In the Book of Five Rings the great Samurai  Musashi wrote, “You should not have a favorite weapon. To become over-familiar with one weapon is as much a fault as not knowing it sufficiently well…” Knowing that,  I purposely brought  a different medium with me. I brought Prismacolor pencils with the hopes expanding my own art cultivation and perhaps taking my art in a different direction.  I tend to favor ink. I am more of a draftsmen than a painter and I am familiar with it. It is a favorite weapon. I also hoped to lighten may palette in this new environment. But if I wait till dark to create it will no doubt be a darker palette no matter the medium. Perhaps I should make the effort to work earlier in the day. A novel idea. We will see. I took the color pencils with me on a walkabout. It was late in the day but not dark when I started. Although I saw many scenes suitable for an interesting composition I also needed a place suitable to sit down and draw. I rather fancy the odd array of chimneys here in Wales and think them interesting subjects. After much walking and exploring the neighborhoods of Gresford I finally found both a good scene and a place sit and started drawing in color pencils. I was ill prepared and Musashi would not have been pleased. My weapons were not ready. Most of the pencils needed sharpening and I intentionally did not bring a blades with me on the plane over. I did the best I could from life as the daylight seeped away. I sharpened the pencils when I got back inside and worked on the picture till it was complete. I spent considerably more time working on this than I would have if I had used my familiar approach of using ink and watercolor. The product would have been better too I think, but the lesson learned would have been diminished.

The dinner party was lovely and still going on. Wine and conversation flowed freely. But it was almost midnight and I hadn’t done any art yet. I am trying to get back to doing some art daily. I don’t think I will ever achieve the status of my great streak of doing some art daily for 5 and a half years. (I forget the exact number). But doing some art everyday is a good code to live by for me….and it pleases my muse.  Not wanting to be rude and feeling the effects of the wine I didn’t spend much time looking for a subject. I sat on some steps and did a quick sketch of the moon and clouds in the sky. I took the drawing back into the house and  sat back at the dinner table with my paints. I painted it quickly while I listened to the conversations and drank more wine. To quote Arlo Guthrie, “I knew it wasn’t the best song I ever wrote.”

Chester is a walled city located in Cheshire England, very close to Wales. It was founded in 79 AD by the Romans and was originally built as a fort. Chester is one of the best preserved walled cities in Britain. It also has a beautiful Cathedral that I remember visiting with my parents decades ago. A few days ago I was there with my cousin Joanne. I had a little over an hour to kill and after walking around a bit I decided to wait to see the cathedral another day and chose to just sit on a bench and do a sketch. There was so much to see…so many details it was hard to choose a simple subject. Without much thought I just looked up across the street and started drawing the top of building on the corner and did this little sketch while a young man played the violin next to me…To Dream the Impossible the Dream played while I sketched.

I did attempt to draw the elusive All Saints Church in Gresford again this morning. I finally found a spot to sit with a suitable composition in front of me. I sat on the ground nestled in the corner of the stone foundation of the iron fence that surrounds the church. After getting a good start it began to sprinkle. The rain drops mixed with the fresh ink making it blurry. I kept drawing till the water made the pen ineffective and the rain came down harder. I gave up and visited the pub instead where I used my fading pen to do a quick sketch of men at the bar. Not a bad defeat. I’m tough. I can take it. I will try again.

“Good morning!”  I said to the couple taking their baby for a stroll. They waved back slightly and gave me a curious look. Perhaps it was my accent…perhaps it was because it wasn’t morning. Hell, I wasn’t sure what day it was. I went for a walkabout with good intentions. Along with the small sketchpad I always keep on me I carried a larger one for I intended on drawing the All Saints Church down the road. Upon my arrival to the church I sat on a bench and looked up at the massive thing. I was too close. So I circled the church looking for a composition that pleased me. Although I found several suitable views they allowed me no place to sit and draw. With the damp ground taking away any option of sitting on the ground I kept walking. The circle around the church got wider and wider until it was out of view. I wanted to explore. I followed a path to cemetery away from the church…then back down to the pub and a lane that led passed it. I followed the lane that led me out of town and out into the country. I walked for hours hoping the theory of taking only lefts would bring me back to my cousin’s house. The theory proved true. I arrived back at the house with no drawings and the revelation that I needed new sneakers.

My first night in England turned out to be in across the border into Wales. A village known as Gresford. I went for a walk to explore this new place as the sun was going down.  I walked past a pub and took a right toward the steeple I saw on the horizon. I was attracted by the bells of the  impressive old church that chimed and beckoned me to walk through the ancient cemetery that led to the church. Birds of all kinds were settling in for the night by singing out to their mates. One song very was close to me but I couldn’t see the bird. It was  loud, incredibly beautiful and unknown to me. My thoughts went to the recent short story by Oscar Wilde, The Nightingale and the Rose which I read on the plane over here. I kept walking and walking anxious to see what was around each corner….what was around the bend. I had hoped to get some sketching in but the night turned dark eliminating details. Plus, I was walking. Hard to draw when you are walking. So I sat on a stone bench across the street from the pub and looked around for something appealing. I liked the way the light lit up a row of houses. I got my small watercolor pad and a fine permanent marker out and began to draw the scene. I worked on it diligently for a spell before realizing the temperature had gone down and I was cold. I went back to my cousin’s house and worked on the drawing some more. I was inspired to paint it so I stayed up late working with my watercolors until I was happy with it.

As I prepare to embark on my journey to England I am reminded of a previous trip there some 20 odd years ago. I took watercolors which was a new medium for me at the time. After several stabs at it came up with this painting of a Welsh Valley. I spent many hours sitting there looking out over this scene. I am curious which direction my art will take me this time. We will see…

For my last night in Tennessee I stopped by my old friends Gael and Susan. Not only are they old friends but they were early supporters of my work. Their house is lined with prints and originals of my work going back decades. I’ve counted 15 so far. Their back yard is lined with trees along the shore of a river. I went out in the dark with a gray sketch pad, an ink pen and a few colored pencils. I sketched in the dark long enough for the picture to emerge and just before the rain came down. I went inside and worked on it in silence listening to the thunder rumbling and the falling rain.

I went out to Bobby’s Idle Hour on 16th Ave in Nashville last night to hear some friends play. I got in a couple of sketches. Not much of a resemblance but good training. I also spent a big chunk of the day working on an acrylic painting. Good art day!

After my best friend Bubba died his wife Selina and I planted a tree in his back yard as a memorial.   She was not sure what kind of tree it was at the time. It turned out to be a thorn tree which Bubba would have loved. After we planted the tree we were having a prayerful moment of silence when a beautiful butterfly with crazy  colors fluttered around us and landed on the tree.  It hung around a spell on the tree before fluttering off.

We had a celebration of his life on Saturday, ten years after his passing. A fun gathering of old friends with music and good Bubba stories. I spent the next morning scanning all the pics of Bubba that had been gathered. I was alone in the house he lived in…died in. His memory was vivid and I missed my Bubba and tears flooded my eyes. It was Easter morning. I went up to my home church…the Narrows of the Harpeth.  A special, sacred place for me and others going back thousands of years.  The first day I met Bubba he brought me up there back in 1977.  I climbed the trail to the top of the ridge where there is a natural stone altar.  There was a nice couple with their grand daughter up there. As I was sitting up there in silence a large yellow and black butterfly showed up. It fluttered around me  and almost landed on me. The kind lady saw it and said, “My grandmother used to say if you see a lone butterfly it means a deceased loved one is visiting to give you a blessing…he sure does seem to like you.”

Today our brother Chris has been released from his earthly body. We got to say “I love you” to each other before he went. I remember the day when I fell in love with him. After playing a gospel song at Windows on the Cumberland in Nashville my friend Charlotte asked him if he would sing it again so she could record it for our friend Bubba who lay dying. He didn’t hesitate. He said , “No.” After a short pause he asked, “Where does he live?” He drove out to Kingston Springs and sang his heart out for Bubba…a man he didn’t know. I was blessed to have him play out my cobblestone. I was honored to know him and be loved by him. I will surely miss you my brother.