Camping Without Comfort

This is no landscape you could ever stand in. No observational drawing, no safe horizon line. This chalk experiment is a dream unfolding in color: a golden field lit from within, a scarlet seam of fire at its edge, and a storm-heavy sky pressing down with ancient weight. It feels like a place between worlds—where the conscious and unconscious meet, where memory and imagination blur. Some might see a battlefield, others a meadow after rain, and still others a veil between life and death. That is the beauty: the painting does not tell you what it is; it invites you to confess what you see. Psychologists say we project ourselves onto images like these. So—what do you notice first? The light? The darkness? The burning red? Perhaps that is not about the drawing at all, but about you.

The lake was busy with light, the grasses busy with wind, but the boat sat quiet against the shore. There is a gift in this tension: to be held still while everything moves, to be carried without effort, to find rest in the very heart of motion.

Being funny with students requires a certain amount of facial expression. I have been debilitated in my attempt to be funny with students.