Within this framework there is a consequence of time;I will apply additional layers to keep track until I am satisfied, then I will let it go underwhelmed.

ART G

Journey’s End

When the clock struck five o’clock the curtain went up and morning appeared as a stage backdrop as far as the water’s edge; a journey’s end, perhaps beginning. This image is oil on canvas, 88 inches by 77 inches and depicts a live setting on the coast of Australia, just north of Sydney in 2002. Standing nearby I attempted to get used to the existence of camels down under.

ART H

Tribute to Rodin

In consideration of how such a vast collection of art from France arrived on Stanford’s campus, Rodin certainly dominates. For all that I know of how they arrived, here I can spare the time to take them in; they are nourishing. Pausing to take them in is not fatal. This painting is only a depiction of one which grabbed my attention in particular and is represented as oil on canvas, 64 inches by 51 inches. The image is as interesting now as it was then, and it is visited frequently—again fifteen minutes from now.

ART I

Sitting Blue

In the days of growing up in the San Francisco, when variety was huge and strange, jazz poets roamed throughout the waterfronts. This was an era when jazz music was necessary, as protection of a world gone large. You see the dinosaurs roaming the world were reported to be sixty to seventy feet long. Imagining jazz poets who were just as tall is not a hard task. This acrylic on board painting represents one jazz poet named Robert Cherry captured in Oakland, and is 72 inches by 36 inches. It must have been hard for him to reach far down in his throat to supply this vast body of music that filled the air all around us for the longest time.

ART J

Baja Beach

I love sunsets on the Pacific coast of the Baja peninsula. Having settled that, I must now admit that a sunset with pelicans soaring just inches from the water is mood changing because it is silent and strange and I forget everything else around me until they have disappeared. Even now, in what remains of the diming natural light I have the courage of going on because of the ventured gain. This painting is acrylic and calcium carbonate on canvas, and is 86 inches by 80 inches. When we reopen our histories we open only such a small part of it. Did we forget the rest or is it now a secret.

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