None are so old as those who have outlived enthusiasm.
–Henry David Thoreau
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This is a new painting that measures 12″ by 6″ on panel and is part of my show at the West End Gallery that opens in about two weeks, on July 22.
I call it The Old Man.
For me it symbolizes someone in their final years and days of life who has lost enthusiasm for this world, who sees it as a place that has changed beyond all recognition or comprehension. It is no longer their world, which feels like an alien landscape in which they are stranded.
They feel detached from the lifeblood of the now and of the future, clinging to what remains of the past in their memories and connections, both which grow smaller and smaller with the passing of time. After a time, even pulling from that field of memory brings no joy.
It becomes a painful waiting game beneath an unblinking sun.
That sounds sad, I know. But there is something positive in it as well. I see this as a cautionary piece, one that warns against disengaging from the world even as it changes from that which we have known and accepted. The world keeps on moving and we must remain enthusiastic and find new joy in this ever changing world.
That’s my take on this painting, most likely formed from some personal observations. Perhaps you will see something other than this when you look at this image, something that jibes with your view of the world.
The right word may be effective, but no word was ever as effective as a rightly timed pause.
She had studied the universe all her life, but had overlooked its clearest message: For small creatures such as we the vastness is bearable only through love. 
I’m a little tired, mainly of talking about my work and myself, and want to keep this short today. I thought I’d show another painting from the show at the Principle Gallery and couple it with the song that spawned it. The painting above is titled To the Watchtower which I derived from the old Bob Dylan song All Along the Watchtower.
The past slips from our grasp. It leaves us only scattered things. The bond that united them eludes us. Our imagination usually fills in the void by making use of preconceived theories…Archaeology, then, does not supply us with certitudes, but rather with vague hypotheses. And in the shade of these hypotheses some artists are content to dream, considering them less as scientific facts than as sources of inspiration.
Shakespeare said that art is a mirror held up to nature. And that’s what it is. The nature is your nature, and all of these wonderful poetic images of mythology are referring to something in you. When your mind is simply trapped by the image out there so that you never make the reference to yourself, you have misread the image.
The soul becomes dyed with the colour of its thoughts.
The morning wind forever blows, the poem of creation is uninterrupted; but few are the ears to hear it.
Redtree Times 