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Posts Tagged ‘Principle Gallery’

Funny How Time Slips Away

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , on September 28, 2025| 2 Comments »

Running the Moons— At Principle Gallery

He began to search among the infinite series of impressions which time had laid down, leaf upon leaf, fold upon fold softly, incessantly upon his brain; among scents, sounds; voices, harsh, hollow, sweet; and lights passing, and brooms tapping; and the wash and hush of the sea.

–Virginia Woolf, To the Lighthouse (1927)

I’m a bit tired this morning and have to get right back to work this morning to finish up work for my upcoming West End Gallery show so this is going to be shorter than it should be. It was a long day yesterday, most of it spent on the road, but it was a good day with what I felt was a fun Gallery Talk.

Well, I had fun.

I just want to extend a special Thank You to all that came out to participated. I could not be more appreciative of the warmth and friendliness that I received from you. Your attention, kindness, questions, and comments were the real strong points of the talk yesterday, making me feel as comfortable as possible in my uncomfortable role of standing and speaking before a group.

You folks made it fun for me as well as providing a large boost of energy and a positive affirmation of sorts, something much needed in a year that has been filled with doubts, loss, and uncertainty along with several health concerns.

I received much more than I gave yesterday– and I needed it all. You deserve all the thanks I can muster.

And, of course, a special Thank You to Michele and her wonderful group at the Principle Gallery– Clint, Taylor, Owen, and Brady. I could write a lot of words here (and probably should) about how much your friendship and affection, your caring attitude, and your hard work has meant to me in the 28+ years we have worked together, but my words would never properly capture the depth of feeling I have.

So, I will simply say Thank You with the hopes you know how much I truly mean those two simple words.

Hard to believe I’ve been with the Principle Gallery for over 28 years now. Like the title song chosen for this week’s Sunday Morning Music says, it’s Funny How Time Slips Away. This version is from the great Al Green and Lyle Lovett.

Here’s to many more years…

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Back Yourself into Your Own Corner

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , on September 24, 2025| Leave a Comment »

The Wanderer’s Compass— Coming to the Principle Gallery

I think while appropriation has produced some interesting work … for me, the most interesting thing is to back yourself into your own corner where no one else’s answers will fit. You will somehow have to come up with your own personal solutions to this problem that you have set for yourself because no one else’s answers are applicable.

[…]

See, I think our whole society is much too problem-solving oriented. It is far more interesting to [participate in] ‘problem creation’ … You know, ask yourself an interesting enough question and your attempt to find a tailor-made solution to that question will push you to a place where, pretty soon, you’ll find yourself all by your lonesome — which I think is a more interesting place to be.

— Chuck Close, 2006 interview with Joe Fig for Inside the Painter’s Studio

I have written about late artist Chuck Close (1940-2021) a few times here before. While I was fan of his distinctive work, it was his words that really hit close to home for me. For example, his Inspiration is for amateurs, the rest of us just show up and get to work has been a credo of sorts for me for some time now. In this article which spawned that credo, Close also spoke the words above and they have the same sort of meaning.

Back yourself into your own corner where no one else’s answers will fit.

I love this and can easily identify with it. I have sometimes described it as working to a place where all your influences have faded away completely and your work becomes distinct, almost self-referential.

Painting is about problem solving. Just the process of taking paint and using it to give form and meaning in two dimensions is, at its heart, a major problem. Some artists follow the lead of those who came before them in solving the problems that come with painting. That’s the appropriation that Close mentions.

But as he also says, it is most interesting when the well-worn answers no longer solve the problem as you see it. You must depend on your own unique set of skills and intuition. That is when the work of any artist takes on a new dimension and singularity for a solution. It also creates a great sense of autonomy in the artist, one that feels freed from the constraints of the influence of the past.

I also like Close’s thoughts on problem creation versus problem solving in the creative process. Problem creation forces us into those corners where new answers emerge as solutions.

I think the painting at the top is microcosm or shorthand version of that principle. It was started at the Painting Demo I gave at the Principle Gallery in June. I had a young lady from the assembled group make the first mark on the canvas.

It was a slash in a difficult spot on the surface. Definitely a problem that somewhat backed me into a corner. But it was actually a good thing because it allowed me to demonstrate how I react to such problems and the problems that arose from my initial reactions. And in my own way.

I often think that my best work comes when I encounter a problem that stretches me out and makes me uncomfortable., forcing me to look beyond the toolbox of skills I have assembled. The creation of new problems allows us to react in different ways, to climb out of our own ruts.

To create new solutions and maybe open new avenues to follow forward– that is where growth begins.

The painting, a 20″ by 20″ canvas, from the Demo is now finished, framed, and titled The Wanderer’s Compass. It will be coming with me to the Gallery Talk this Saturday, September 27, along with a group of new work. The Talk begins at 1 PM.

Gallery Talks also fall into the province of problem creation and problem solving. A big part of my talks is Question & Answer, which by its very nature is problem creation which often makes me scramble to come up with an answer that makes sense. It’s much like painting in that way.

Of course, I can cover up all my mistakes at the Talks by giving away a painting at its end. The painting this year is A Place of Sanctuary, shown below. Hope you can make the Gallery Talk on Saturday. You might well walk away with this painting!

A Place of Sanctuary— You Could Win This Painting!

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Gallery Talk One Week From Today!

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , on September 20, 2025| 2 Comments »

A Place of Sanctuary— You Could Win This Painting!

The whole value of solitude depends upon oneself; it may be a sanctuary or a prison, a haven of repose or a place of punishment, a heaven or a hell, as we ourselves make it.

― John Lubbock, Peace and Happiness

I promised the other day to reveal the painting that I would be the main prize awarded to someone at the Gallery Talk that I will be giving at the Principle Gallery next Saturday, September 27.

Well, here it is.

It’s titled A Place of Sanctuary and is a substantial piece at 18″ by 24″ on canvas. I believe this painting is, as I wrote earlier, a pip. I can’t fully describe what it is that makes it so, but it never fails to capture my attention when I am in its presence. Presence might be the right word, with its deep and rich colors and a large sun that feels that it might be a hypnotist’s watch mesmerizing me as I gaze at it.

Whatever it is, it transports me to a place that feels like sanctuary.

I have always maintained that the paintings given away at Gallery Talks over the years have great meaning for me, that giving it away has to involve a sense of sacrifice on my part. It has to hurt a little bit, has to make me question if I am making a mistake. This painting definitely falls into that category.

There will be a drawing for A Place of Sanctuary at the end of the Gallery Talk at the Principle Gallery which takes place next Saturday, Saturday 27, beginning at 1 PM. The Gallery Talk and the drawing for the painting is free and open to everyone. You must be present when the painting is awarded.

Hope you can make it to the Principle Gallery next Saturday. In the meantime, here’s post about this painting from a few years back:

I had never heard of John Lubbock before coming across the short quote above. He was one of those interesting 19th century British characters, a titled member (1st Baron Avebury) of a wealthy banking family who made great contributions to the advancement of the sciences and math as well as to many liberal causes. For example, it was John Lubbock who coined the terms Paleolithic and Neolithic in describing the Old and New Stone Ages, as well as helping to make archaeology a recognized scientific discipline. As a youth he was a neighbor to Charles Darwin and was heavily influenced by the older scientist, who he befriended. He also worked with Darwin as a young man and championed his evolutionary theories in his later adulthood. He was obviously a man who used his position and access to higher knowledge to add to both his own intellect and that of our collective body.

That being said, his words this morning gave me pause. I have generally viewed solitude as a sanctuary, even in the troubled times of my life. It was a place to calm myself, to gather my thoughts and clearly examine what was before me. I crave solitude so the idea that for some this same solitude could feel like a hell or a prison seemed foreign to me.

What differentiates one’s perception of such a basic thing as the solitude in being alone? How could my place of sanctuary be someone else’s chamber of horrors?

If you’re expecting me to answer, you’re going to be disappointed because I can’t really say. I might say it might have to do with our insecurity but I have as much, if not more, uncertainty and insecurity than most people. We all have unique psychological makeups and every situation, including that of solitude, is seen from a unique perspective.

This subjectiveness is also the basis for all art. What else could explain how one person can look at a painting and see an idyllic scene while another can feel uneasy or even offended by the same scene?

Now, the painting at the top, titled A Place of Sanctuary, is a piece that very much reflects this sense of finding haven in solitude. For me, it is calming and centering, a place and time that appeals to my need for sanctuary.

Someone else might see it otherwise. They might see something remote, alien and unsettling in it.

I may not understand it but that’s okay, too. So long as they feel something…

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Inner Perception, Redux

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , on September 19, 2025| 2 Comments »

Inner Perception (2011)– Coming to Principle Gallery

I have sat here for quite some time this morning trying to write about some of the new work I have been producing for my October West End Gallery show or some that is headed with me to the Principle Gallery for my Gallery Talk there next Saturday.

I know that I am more than little distracted and anxious by what is happening in this country as we descend into outright authoritarianism. It sometimes seems trivial and foolhardy to talk about art and thought when the house is burning down around you.

But I also know that part of what I do is to create work and write about things that deal with coping with life and all its travails. There is a need and a place for what this is in times like this.

I am time strapped now after sitting and ruminating here for so long. So, I am running an older post that deals a bit with an older piece, Inner Perception, shown above, that I am bringing next week to the Gallery Talk at the Principle Gallery. Every so often I like to break out and make available a vintage piece or two. This has been a personal favorite for a long time now and I felt it was time to let it find a place where it could be viewed with fresher eyes than mine.

Here the post from 2014:

This is a painting from a few years back that has toured around a bit and found its way back to me. Called Inner Perception, it has been one of my favorites right from the moment it came off my painting table. Maybe the inclusion of the the paint brush (even though it is a house painter’s brush) with red paint in the bristles makes it feel more biographical, more directly connected to my own self. Or maybe it was the self-referential Red Tree painting on the wall behind the Red Chair.

I don’t know for sure. But whatever the case, it is a piece that immediately makes me reflective, as though it is a shortcut to some sort of inner sanctum of contemplation.

Looking at it this morning, a question I was asked at a Gallery Talk I gave at the Principle Gallery a week or so ago re-emerged.

I was asked what advice I might give my fifth-grade self if I had the opportunity.

I had answered that I would tell myself to believe in my own unique voice, to believe in the validity of what I had to say to the world.

I do believe that, but I think I might add a bit to that answer, saying that I would tell my younger self to be patient and not worry about how the world perceives you. That if you believed that your work was reflecting something genuine from within, others would come to see it eventually.

I would also add to never put your work above the work of anyone else and, conversely, never put your work beneath that of anyone else. I would tell myself to always ask “Why not me?” instead of “Why me?”

This realization came to me a couple of years ago at my exhibit at the Fenimore Art Museum. When it first went up it was in a gallery next to one that held the work of the great American Impressionists along with a painting from Monet. I was greatly intimidated, worrying that my work would not stand the muster of being in such close proximity to those painters who I had so revered over the years. Surely the greatness of their work would show me to be a pretender.

But over the course of the exhibit, that feeling faded and the intimidation I had initially felt turned to a type of defiant determination. I began to ask myself that question: Why not me?

If my work was genuine, if it was true expression of my inner self and inner perceptions, was it any less valid than the work of these other painters? Did they have some greater insight of which I was not aware, something that made their work deeper and more connected to some common human theme? If, as I believe, everyone has something unique to share with the world, why would my expression of self not be able to stand along their own?

The answer to my question was in my own belief in the work and by the exhibit’s end I was no longer doubting my right to be there. So, to my fifth-grade self and to anyone who faces self-doubt about the path they have chosen, I say that if you know you have given it your all, shown your own unique self, then you must ask that question: Why not me?

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Three Rules/ Oh What a Beautiful World

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , on August 29, 2025| 2 Comments »

The Call of Wonder– At Principle Gallery

Three Rules of Work:

Out of clutter find simplicity; From discord find harmony; In the middle of difficulty lies opportunity.

–Albert Einstein

This Einstein fellow is a pretty smart guy.

Simplification, harmony and opportunity could be ingredients for any recipe to success in any field, but I think they apply particularly well to the creative arts. I know that I can easily apply these three rules to my own work.

For me, its strength lies in its ability to transmit through simplification and harmony. The forms are often simplified versions of reality, shedding details that don’t factor into what it is trying to express.

There is often an underlying texture in the work that is chaotic and discordant. The harmonies in color and form painted over these create a tension, a feeling of wholeness in the work. A feeling of finding a pattern in the chaos that makes it all seem sensible.

And the final rule–opportunity lying in the midst of difficulty– is perhaps the easiest to apply. The best work always seems to rise from the greatest depths, those times when the mind has to move from its normal trench of thought. Times when one has to expand beyond the known ways of doing things and find new solutions and methods to move the message ahead.

The difficulties of life are often great but there is almost always an opportunity or lesson to be found within them if only we are able to take a deep breath and see them. These lessons always find their way into the work in some way.

Thanks for the thought, Mr. Einstein. I hear good things about the work you’re doing.

I run theses Three Rules from Einstein every couple of years and it felt like the right time since I think we are all looking for simplicity, harmony, and opportunity in our own lives. Plus, I am short on time this morning. I am going to embellish a bit with two other favorite quotes from Mr. Einstein and a newer version of the wizened wisdom of Oh What a Beautiful World from the ageless Willie Nelson and Rodney Crowell, who wrote and first recorded the song in 2014.

Here are those words from Einstein:

The world as we have created it is a process of our thinking. It cannot be changed without changing our thinking.

———–

“People like you and I, though mortal of course like everyone else, do not grow old no matter how long we live. What I mean is we never cease to stand like curious children before the great Mystery into which we were born.”

–Albert Einstein, Letter to Otto Juliusburger, September 29, 1942

And what a mystery it is…

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First Happiness

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , on August 27, 2025| 2 Comments »

Bound in Time— At Principle Gallery

Chaos is the first condition.

Order is the first law.

Continuity is the first reflection.

Quietude is the first happiness.

— James Stephens / The Crock of Gold (1912)

The lines above are from a novel, The Crock of Gold, from Irish author James Stephens. The form above is not how they were presented in the book originally. They were actually dialogue spoken by the main character, the Philosopher, in the comic/fantasy novel that deals with philosophy, murder, love and marriage, and Irish folklore, including Leprechauns and a stolen crock of gold.

From the bits of it I have read on Internet Archive where it is available, it seems like a wild ride. It has had continuing influence, too. The late Shane McGowan, leader of the Irish band The Pogues, used the title for his last studio album before his death.

But it is the bit of dialogue that caught my eye. It seemed to capture much of what I have been seeing in my work in recent times. Or. at least, hoping to see. You’re never quite sure what will emerge when you’re pulling things out of the ether.

This procedural list seems to match with what I am trying to depict. We try to identify order within the chaos in which we find ourselves. Having revealed whatever bit of order there is to be found, we try to maintain it through repetition of conditions and behaviors. Having done so, we find a bit of tranquility in whatever small patch of order we are able to maintain. Therein lies happiness.

That might be all you need to know about life.

I don’t know, that’s for damn sure. But it sounds like a decent recipe.

Maybe that is the gold in the Leprechaun’s crock?

Here’s a song that probably has nothing to do with post. Maybe that’s the chaos part of it?

Anyway, it came on the station I often listen to just a few minutes ago. I hear it every couple of days, and it always catches my attention, even if I am really focused on painting at that time. It’s One of Those Days from singer/songwriter Eilen Jewell.

Maybe the appeal for me is that I’ve had a lot of those days. Bet a lot of you have, as well.

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Beyond the Blue Horizon

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , on August 19, 2025| 3 Comments »

Wherever the Wind Takes Me – At Principle Gallery

The worst sin that can be committed against the artist is to take him at his word, to see in his work a fulfillment instead of a horizon.

–Henry Miller, The Cosmological Eye (1939)

Love these words from Henry Miller. I think most people, artists included, look at a piece of art and see it as an endpoint rather than a jumping off point. I would like to think that my work serves both as an invitation and starting point for the viewer. My hope is that my little world as I present it is welcoming enough that they easily enter and feel comfortable. Once there, my wish is that they begin to explore both the space in which they are and the self they see in it. To start an inner journey of some sort, one that might last only for a few moments or for a lifetime.

That’s asking a lot, I know. And it’s not fully in my mind when I am at work because at that point I am fully engaged in my own inner journey. It’s only after I step back and try to view a piece with a more dispassionate eye that I begin to recognize if a piece has that potential in it.

A horizon to pursue.

A starting point of a journey.

Some do. Some don’t. And maybe some that I think do, don’t. And vice versa.

One never knows for sure. And that is the beauty of art. Some see totality and some see endless potentiality.

That’s all the time I have this morning. I see a horizon forming and need to get moving towards it.

Here’s a song from Michael Nesmith, best known as one of the Monkees. This is his take on Beyond the Blue Horizon, a song that was first performed by Jeanette MacDonald in 1930. It’s quirky but still works for me this morning.

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I Got a Feeling

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , on August 17, 2025| 2 Comments »

NightFlare– At Principle Gallery

I say in speeches that a plausible mission of artists is to make people appreciate being alive at least a little bit. I am then asked if I know of any artists who pulled that off. I reply, ‘The Beatles did’.

— Kurt Vonnegut, Timequake (1997)

To make someone else appreciate the fact that they are alive is an admirable goal for any artist– or any person, for that matter.

I can’t say that it was my mission when I first began painting. I don’t know that I actually had a mission other than trying to find something that would release the pent-up feelings within me. It began as a selfish act, for me alone.

There was never a consideration of its effect on other people. Actually, I doubted that it would have any effect on others. At the time, I didn’t have a lot of faith in my ability to do much of anything, let alone make others appreciate the fact they were alive. I wasn’t sure that I was that thrilled about being alive so who was I to make others feel that way?

But as time passed, the work I was doing, after first being an expression of self for myself alone, became a way of reaching out to people, many who recognized their own feelings in that work. I have been blessed to have heard from so many people over the years that tell me how the work has affected them. 

The effect this has had on me is immeasurable. I can’t say that it measures up to Vonnegut’s mission aim of making people appreciate being alive.  But I can unequivocally say that the reactions these folks pass on to me make me glad I am alive.

Maybe that should be a corollary to Vonnegut’s words, that the mission for the artist should also be to find a gladness for their own life in making others realize their appreciation for being alive.

If so, mission accomplished.

Here’s a favorite song and performance by those very same Beatles. This is from their legendary concert that took place in January of 1969 from the rooftop of their Apple Corps headquarters in London. It was their last public performance. I am not going to try to explain the effect that the Beatles had on everything in their short lifespan, not just on music. There are no contemporary comparisons, nor have there been any since, to make someone who came of age after they were around understand their influence and reach since the world had already changed by then. The shortest way I can describe it as the world was in black-and-white before the Beatles and in full, vivid color afterwards.

I love this performance of I Got a Feeling, particularly that of Paul McCartney, though everyone shines, including Billy Preston on keyboards, though you only get brief glimpses of him.

Makes me glad to be alive. 

Mission accomplished.

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Bulb or Light?

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , on August 10, 2025| 5 Comments »

Quiet Revelation-Now at Principle Gallery

The problem in middle life, when the body has reached its climax of power and begins to lose it, is to identify yourself, not with the body, which is falling away, but with the consciousness of which it is a vehicle. And when you can do that, and this is something learned from my myths, What am I?  of which the bulb is a vehicle?

One of the psychological problems in growing old is the fear of death. People resist the door of death. But this body is a vehicle of consciousness, and if you can identify with the consciousness, you can watch this body go like an old car. There goes the fender, there goes the tire, one thing after another— but it’s predictable. And then, gradually, the whole thing drops off, and consciousness rejoins consciousness. It is no longer in this particular environment.

~Joseph Campbell, The Power of Myth

That is a great question: Are we the bulb that carries the light, or are we the light?

While I believe there may be an absolute answer that is deeply etched in whatever makes up and energizes the universe, the answer for our time here in this small world is determined by each of us.

We can see ourselves as being only a physical being. A body with a brain that is simply another part of it. And maybe that is all the brain is, a control module that exists to help the body maneuver and survive this world, with very little to do with our actual consciousness– that light, that lifeforce, that we carry and emit.

Or we can see ourselves as that light that is something apart from and only temporarily contained by our physical vessels. That we are that lifeforce that exists beyond our time here in this plane.

In our youth, we tend to see only the physical nature of our being- strength and beauty and the quickness of the mind. I thought that way for a while. But over the years, witnessing others struggle with disease and death while experiencing my own aging with the dings, dents, and slipping gears that accompany it, to continue the old car metaphor Campbell employed above, I definitely see things more in the latter mode, that we are the light, the consciousness, that is carried by the bulb that is our body. And someday, sooner or later, when our engine is blown and our fenders rotted off as the tow truck comes to haul us to the junkyard, our consciousness will go on. 

Cosciousness shall rejoin the greater consciousness. Our light will rejoin the greater light.

Just a thought, my own viewpoint as an old Subaru, this morning. I could go on, of course, and maybe I am remiss in not doing so. But I think I’ve said enough this morning and I’ll let you fill in the blanks like it’s some sort of philosophical Mad-Libs.

Besides, I want to get to the Sunday Morning Music for this week.

Here’s a great version of This Little Light of Mine from bluegrass legend Ralph Stanley. I had the great pleasure of seeing him perform a number of years back at Radio City Music Hall as part of the Down From the Mountain tour which featured the many singers and musicians– Alison Krauss & Union Station, Emmylou Harris, Gillian Welch, Patty Loveless, and Stanley— whose music played a large role in the film O Brother, Where Art Thou? Stanley’s performance of O Death was perhaps the most powerful moment from a memorable show.

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The Weight of Dreams…

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , on August 6, 2025| Leave a Comment »

Night’s Dream— At Principle Gallery

“As I thought of these things, I drew aside the curtains and looked out into the darkness, and it seemed to my troubled fancy that all those little points of light filling the sky were the furnaces of innumerable divine alchemists, who labour continually, turning lead into gold, weariness into ecstasy, bodies into souls, the darkness into God; and at their perfect labour my mortality grew heavy, and I cried out, as so many dreamers and men of letters in our age have cried, for the birth of that elaborate spiritual beauty which could alone uplift souls weighted with so many dreams.”

—W.B. Yeats, Rosa Alchemica (1896)

It seems like each new day sees us bearing witness to yet another outrage, often greater than that of the day before which was greater than the day before it. This downward and backward spiral goes on and on to a point not so long ago when those with darkest and most amoral souls were vilified and ostracized, not idolized and elevated before the public in the way we are currently experiencing.

Those days, though not so long ago, seem like ancient history now as the behavior of the worst of us grows at an alarming geometric pace. To those of us who wish to lead a simple, quiet, and peaceful life that sees us doing no harm to others and others doing no harm to us, these days feel like we are being beaten down with a bag of oranges, each blow hurting a bit more until we are in a state of numb submission.

The dreams and aspirations of so many that once seemed to be within reach now feel even further removed, distant like the stars in the sky. It is a time when dreams fall by the wayside. It begs the question that the poet Langston Hughes asked in his poem Harlem:

What happens to a dream deferred?

Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore—
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over—
like a syrupy sweet?

Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.

Or does it explode?

What will happen with the dreams of so many being not only deferred, but destroyed?

I don’t know. It certainly feels that is must be sagging like heavy load for many folks at this point. Or like they are furiously treading water just trying to stay afloat.

The question remains: How does one keep their dreams alive in times such as these?

Maybe that is one purpose of the spiritual element of art in all its many forms–to lift our vision and our spirit, to inspire creative thought and action that will transcend the horror that stalks the present moment. To stave off the drying up, the festering, the stinking rot, and crusting over so that dreams may be kept alive. 

Maybe.

And if it explodes? Maybe art then provides guidance and unity through the explosion as well as a reminder of who we are and the values we hold dear.  And in the aftermath of the explosion it may serve as a template to follow in our rebuilding so that the errors that brought us to this point are not repeated. 

Well, until time and a new darkness clouds our memories once more and we begin a similar downward spiral.

My dream is that we don’t forget, that we are lifted up and dreams continue to be both dreamed and realized by many folks, not just those privileged few who dream of hoarding everything for themselves.

Here’s a little-known song from Bruce Springsteen that I am pretty sure has not been shared here before. It’s called Dream Baby Dream. I saw him perform this once during a solo show in 2005 that featured only him and his guitar, his piano, and for this song, a pump organ. It is a spare, simple song and its sound mounted throughout so that it became almost mantra.

Very powerful. A mantra for our times, perhaps.

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