Baseballs and Ink Blots

My mind meanders, like a creek that wears down the earth and exposes limestone layers. I suppose painting and writing are a way of structuring thoughts. Sometimes in life, I would find a fossil in the limestone layers.

Reflections

An old basebase ball, left ourside too long. Weathered and falling apart, a visual effect more interesting to my eye than the shiny, new baseballs out there.

The interior exposed somewhat, creating patterns against a different pattern in the background. The dirt adding a touch of chaos.

Did you play, or do you still play? Are your memories pleasant or not so great?

Simplicity

One of my professors would tell me that the key to good design was simplicity, simplicity, simplicity. This was an architectural design course and it one of the few ideas that stick with me.

My intent is not to suggest that is the path I am following. It is what I keep returning to; however, one must grow as a person, unless you have given up hope.

It would be a mistake for me to divorce being an artist from being a person. They are one and the same, whether one makes a living at Art or has some other source of support.

P.S.

I like black and white photography. Things can exist without color. Although we would miss color terribly, it is not needed for existence. Shape, volume, color: I wonder if those would work for me as a guide to painting? I am sure someone has written along these lines. Good thing that I like to read.