COLOR, PATTERNING, DISSOLUTION
Photo by Tim Girvin Dissolution, beautiful degradation; the dissolving -- the shifting of solution from one stage to another, spattered with color. Looking at this wall, once cleaned masonry, now speckled with moss, the tinting of coursing water, the colors shift in the aging patination; and more beauty emerges. In that beauty, passage. The semblance of that beauty, I savor, here: https://tim.girvin.com/entries/?p=254 T | Pittock The scent of trees as perfume
SNOWDAY
Photo by Tim Girvin Seattle's in a kind of shut down. Only the brave ventured downtown. Living on Queen Anne Hill, one of the hills overlooking the city, the streets are slick with ice. Being an eastern Washington person, snow's never an impediment. It's a gauntlet. Seattle, downtown, is quiet. There are three people in the office. Lisa, Kevin, me. And just now, the intern -- Joe. Still time for something calligraphic, however. Heading north to Vancouver, next. t | pike place...
SMOKE, FIRE, WARMTH
Photo by Tim Girvin As the storm comes in, winter borne, the island house gets colder and colder, sifting the iced winds from the north, roaring over the hills, the forest, back to the southern sea. Fire might be the only way to get warm. While I'm drawing, I put my hands into the fire to get the heat back into them. This morning, it was bitterly cold again, yet there's no snow. Winds still rip. But being in the city, I'm warmer. t | old queen anne hill Tim
THE PAUSE OF THE ROOM, THE SHADOW, THE UNKNOWN
"The reality of a room, for instance, was to be found in the vacant space enclosed by the roof and the walls, not in the roof and walls themselves. The usefulness of a water pitcher dwelt in the emptiness where water might be put, not in the form of the pitcher or the material of which it was made." ~ Okakura Kakuzo "The Book of Tea" 1906" Walking out in the rain last night, I came across a darkened room. At the end of the dark room, was a door. That door was open. A long stream of light...
THE MEANDER
THE MEANDER Photos by Tim Girvin I'm working on a complicated paper. It's long. It's winding. It's filling out in the mist of uncertainty. But I'm getting there. I do wonder at how -- even in the gravity of Fall -- the notion of the natural meander fills space in the most elegant manner. I'm trying to do that. Thinking and writing about it. t | NYC T I M
Surveilling
Surveilling I know, in any journey, you'll get to some place where the view might be different. In this vista, balanced, that is you, surveilling what lies on the grayed horizon. Going up, higher, the presumption is that you will see further. Or it might be misted, mysteriously -- but even here, the perspective will change your sense of place, in the gauze of the veil of what can be scene, and that -- unseen. Ideas, beckon. Inspiration, calls. Tim
THE LEAVED ROAD
THE LEAVED ROAD Photo by Tim Girvin I've been walking out in the old woods, yesterday in the winds and rain -- the paths. And that's been a good voyage, thinking about the move to the city this morning. And all the time -- yesterday -- prepping to be on another road today. Back to New York state, NYC. Being in New York City, still there are places to be, parks that are quieter, places the recall a return to that wooded place, where the rains, the mists and the leaves fall. I savor being in...
WHAT IS THE WAY, ANY WAY?
Photo by Tim Girvin WHAT IS THE WAY, ANY WAY? I was working in the dark, in the office alone -- early work, night was still fallen. I was thinking about this, for myself. "Who are you, any way?" Of course, I'm thinking about this for others -- those that I work for, the clients, others that are exploring this question. Really, what's the story -- the right way of telling it? What does it look like? And others that I'm exploring for -- those that are thinking, examining: who am I. When I think:...
LIGHT
Photo by Dawn Clark LIGHT STREAM IN....TOUCHING LIGHT, WHERE YOU FIND IT. STRETCHES OF LIGHT, THAT CAN BE TEXTURES IN PLACE. When I travel, the idea of looking into the light, when I find it streaming, a streak across the floor -- marbled, slatted, smooth, roughened or otherwise -- it's something to scout for. I'm searching for that, the traces of where it might be found. That light might be the remnant, something that comes from the long stretch of the luminous, in the shadow, from one place...
The Y
Y? I ponder the way, the crossroads turning -- I'm going one way, then another; as I walk that road, I come to the letter, the way -- and it's telling me there's a juncture there; it might be hat I go this one way, then another > and finally return, and take another. All wonder, that wander. Tim