Yesterday my art failed. Today I haven’t painted. Later maybe. The key is getting in the right frame of mind – peaceful, relaxed, reflective. But if I can’t do that, I need to paint regardless. Professionals show up regardless.

I’ve been impressed, inspired lately by the art of Maria Iciak. Delicate watercolors quickly executed. Thin washes. No attempt to be realistic. You can figure out what she’s painting most of the time, but it’s impressionistic. Beautiful.

“An intellectual says a simple thing in a hard way. An artist says a hard thing in a simple way.”
-       Charles Bukowski

Spent a couple of hours yesterday, or more, watching Charles Bukowski poetry recitals on YouTube. Much of his poetry is vile, the product of pain and hurt. A drunk. A sad man, generally speaking. He submitted thousands of poems, almost all rejected, for decades before his work caught on. Now he’s a cult hero. I salute his persistence and belief in his vision, even if much of his work is scornful of life. Here’s one of his rare poems that captures a kind of beauty.

there’s a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I pour whiskey on him and inhale
cigarette smoke
and the whores and the bartenders
and the grocery clerks
never know that
he’s
in there.

there’s a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I’m too tough for him,
I say,
stay down, do you want to mess
me up?
you want to screw up the
works?
you want to blow my book sales in
Europe?

- From “Bluebird” by Charles Bukowski, from the anthology The Last Night Of The Earth Poems