Left Coast Missive:

Greetings from the Boreal Lands on the Left Coast…

I'm just now coming out of 4 months bought with illness. I fell in late November cracking the top of a rib, breaking a bone in my foot and injuring my hip. A week later I developed a chest infection which lasted until recently.

With the coming of spring now seems to be lifting and I am on the main so much better.

I guess it is a territory I'm in now being a bit older than I have to take a bit more care.

Anyway, I'm not here to talk about illness but to talk about art, poetry, and the beauty of the world. I am sitting outside in our back garden in the late afternoon with dappled clouds flying overhead, fresh blossoms on the trees, and the birds flying around trying to find places for nest.

The renewal of springtime makes my heart sing it was a long, long winter. Stir crazy with it all I have to say.

We have new life in our family as well; a grandson named Sorrel who as you can imagine is the delight of our lives. He just turned 4 months old a couple of days ago and he is full of laughter and wonder about everything around him.

Rowan and Sorrel. Does it get any better than this?

I am trying to get back into the storytelling mode and I have several lined up at this point to complete. Even was being down ill for as long as I was, I've been working on two books, a new art piece which I will share today with you and plans for the future.

Thank you for your patience and support with my sub stack. I will try not to have such a long delay between entries.

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Here is the piece I have been working on for the last 3 weeks. Rather a mundane title, “Creation”. This piece was executed in pencil, a medium I usually don't use. It is loosely based on the mandala art that I've done before and the pointillist works as well. The big difference is the use of color I usually have more of a muted approach Black India ink a bit of airbrush, and one or two colors added as well.

Creation isn't that large only 12x18 inches… now that I am heading to this direction, I have a couple of large boards that I will be doing similar works using acrylic ink markers and probably much more intricate design.

Time will tell but I have a bunch of canvases and boards that need filling in soon.

I have found working on pieces like this to be very meditative and it takes a lot of patience which is good because I have so little of it naturally.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this piece, any feedback is appreciated of course. If interested in a print, or the original, just let me know! ;p

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The Alcove of Dreams is about to be published: Awaiting some reviews to put in the front of the book. 190 some pages of art, and stories. If you want to support the project, you can Pre-Order: Pre Order Here!

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Several Sundays Ago: Had a dream that told me to stop pushing so hard to get things going/done. In fact, the character in the dream walked up to me and asked me if I were okay, they were unsatisfied with the answer and told me to cool it down. Wild, came back a second time with his pregnant wife and reiterated the same message. Okay, Dream people, I can take the message.

She goes where she pleases. She appears unhoped for, uncalled for. She moves through doors and walls and windows. Her thoughts move through minds. She enters dreams. She vanishes and is still there. She knows the future and sees through flesh. She is not afraid of anything.

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A recent discovery: Frequently on Radio EarthRites!

Recently I exchanged emails with David Wengrow, Co-Author with David Graeber of “The Dawn of Everything” In the introduction they mentioned that “Dawn” was the first of 3 books. David Graeber passed sadly in 2020 just before publication. Professor Wengrow said a second book was in progress. I cannot tell you how happy that makes me!

And to top and finalize this post…

The Song of Wandering Aengus

By William Butler Yeats

I went out to the hazel wood,

Because a fire was in my head,

And cut and peeled a hazel wand,

And hooked a berry to a thread;

And when white moths were on the wing,

And moth-like stars were flickering out,

I dropped the berry in a stream

And caught a little silver trout.

When I had laid it on the floor

I went to blow the fire a-flame,

But something rustled on the floor,

And someone called me by my name:

It had become a glimmering girl

With apple blossom in her hair

Who called me by my name and ran

And faded through the brightening air.

Though I am old with wandering

Through hollow lands and hilly lands,

I will find out where she has gone,

And kiss her lips and take her hands;

And walk among long dappled grass,

And pluck till time and times are done,

The silver apples of the moon,

The golden apples of the sun.

Source: The Wind Among the Reeds (1899)

Thank You For Visiting.

Bright Blessings,

Gwyllm