I remember staying up late at night writing
maybe dreaming, a place,
a time, a fragment...... a real thing.

These seconds of memory pound.

They are what we are.... despite the hundreds of thousands of thoughts that try to say otherwise.

Late at night alone we truly figure out who we are, but many sleep through that... others can't understand it, some think they get it.... but until you stand in the wind flowing up the river in the dark alone, you have no clue---though its not practical.

Newspapers in their heyday covered the gamut of what life gives to us. When I started this website I was planning to take on the age old principles of what the glory days of newspapers held for us as we gleaned  each word getting smarter with every turn of the page. Knowledge is power.

But it also grants us glimpses into the mirror of who we are. 

I am a proponent of the arts and when I see them scoffed at by administrative educators or political dieties, I take offense and oft lift a middle finger to the perpetrator of lies that the arts can be cut for the betterment of mankind.

No. No you cannot cut the arts and the arts should be heralded as just what they are, a gift of divinity that when shared, brings us closer to humanity and God.

I had begun this art page several months ago, but din't quite know what to do with it until tonight when I had a minor epiphany..... I share the arts on the calendar page, but I can share deeper perspectives on art here as well.

I decided to share some of my work and how the mind of an artist works. We are not bound to preconcieved thought. In fact, we challenge constantly that which is known before us as a truth. We break truth down to see if it holds water. Often it does not.

Art is in words, it is in marks, it is in gestures, it is in the serendipity of nature and the minds of children. Art is life.

I hope here to share that which is life through observation in art, whether it is my own or someone else's, but I hope it engages your mind. I will share things like poetry and images I've made as well as showcase the talents of many others I've come to know over the years here in Northwest Pennsylvania.

I leave this post with a poem I wrote a very long time ago that somehow still seems to be a crying out for a simpler existence for me.

"Once I had a drum,
from it spirits come,
I got to boom boom boomin' it."