Saturday, December 8, 2012


A watercolor landscape by John D. McClanahan.

Single images have a funny way of sticking in my mind.  In order to cultivate a sense of composure, my brain tends to condense long periods of time, normally filled with endless chaotic details, into just one idealized moment, one blurry freeze-frame to file away into my memory.  

I am then free to pull certain details from any one of these flashcard moments: a texture, a feeling, a color, a mood, a shape.

The few times that I have journeyed across the country by car, I have been struck by the long stretches of landscape zooming past outside my window.  And how much untouched land still lies between the coasts.  As I am about to embark on such a trip next week, I am mentally preparing myself for what could be a tedious drive.  Instead, I am going to try to focus on the landscapes reaching around me, pulling me forward, slowly evolving from farmland to desert and back again to green hillsides.  

Maybe by the time I reach my destination, I will have one of these ideal images in my mind, condensed and perfected and ripe for the picking.

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