Passed away, made the big transition. He was found keeled over at the base of a big old white pine on the shore of Great Trout Lake by a couple of ice fishermen. He was covered in a thin coat of snow and ice so had evidently been there for a couple of days. Cause of death not immediately known – he’s still thawing out – but probably heart attack. But he did have a half-finished bottle of wine in his hand and a lopsided grin on his face so it could have been anything.

I guess that means it is up to me to carry on these posts. I’m renaming them “Journals of a Working Artist: The inner work underlying creative work.” Fewer words, more art. The words mostly cryptic messages that bubble up from my subconscious, their meaning sometimes obscure, but it is clear they mean something. Art mostly abstract.

I’ll do my best to fill my friend Archibald’s hiking boots from down here in Hilton Head.