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http://dawntreestudio.com
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Copyright © 2005-2010 henry mitchell
Copyright for all artwork shown on this site resides with the artist.
http://dawntreestudio.com
http://henrymitchellsculptor.com
Copyright © 2005-2010 henry mitchell
Copyright for all artwork shown on this site resides with the artist.
Wednesday 16 September 2009- Rain, which we sorely need; but the humidity is retarding curing for the finishes on the "Rocker" piece. "Red Chair" may be off to Flat Rock solo. We shall see.
Although I caged all my outdoor planting beds with poultry wire, the chipmonks are still finding their way in to the peas. Simon is doing his best to keep them at bay, but even a dog has to sleep. In the yurts, the mice are feasting on my mizuna.
Around mid-morning a male merlin falcon literally fell out of the sky and landed at my feet. When he had gathered himself, he flew up into the myrtle tree where he stayed most of the day (right). I'm convinced he came to deliver my blessing for the surgery Monday. I pray the same Hand that brought my brother Merlin to me today will carry him safely home.
Merlins don't reside here, but pass through each spring and fall on their way between the Cumberlands and the coast. This is the first one I've seen east of Kentucky/Tennessee.
Although I caged all my outdoor planting beds with poultry wire, the chipmonks are still finding their way in to the peas. Simon is doing his best to keep them at bay, but even a dog has to sleep. In the yurts, the mice are feasting on my mizuna.
Around mid-morning a male merlin falcon literally fell out of the sky and landed at my feet. When he had gathered himself, he flew up into the myrtle tree where he stayed most of the day (right). I'm convinced he came to deliver my blessing for the surgery Monday. I pray the same Hand that brought my brother Merlin to me today will carry him safely home.
Merlins don't reside here, but pass through each spring and fall on their way between the Cumberlands and the coast. This is the first one I've seen east of Kentucky/Tennessee.
Thursday 17 September 2009- When I went out to work after supper last night, Merlin was back, perched in Grandmother Oak over by the yurts (left). This morning, he was gone, on his way to Kentuck, I presume. Godspeed, little brother!
How blessed to live in a world where even when misfortune brings you to earth, you can bear comfort and encouragement to strangers.
Sunday 20 September 2009- In between helping cook and serve a meal for eighty homeless neighbors and hosting Friends Meeting at our house, I put the finishing touches on "Rocker," (below) just in time for surgery tomorrow, which will save it from my compulsive tinkering. So David will get two pieces from me for his October show after all. After Meeting, I still had time to build the ramp I will need for my post-op recovery ( I won't be allowed stairs for the first couple of weeks). God has given me a good summer. I have put three pieces of work in sacred spaces. I have eaten the first figs from the trees I planted two years ago. All the work I have promised has been done. I have loved. I have been loved. Friends gather all around and hold me in the Light.
Whatever comes next, I don't know how it can be better than this. But God moves continually in the element of surprise.
How blessed to live in a world where even when misfortune brings you to earth, you can bear comfort and encouragement to strangers.
Sunday 20 September 2009- In between helping cook and serve a meal for eighty homeless neighbors and hosting Friends Meeting at our house, I put the finishing touches on "Rocker," (below) just in time for surgery tomorrow, which will save it from my compulsive tinkering. So David will get two pieces from me for his October show after all. After Meeting, I still had time to build the ramp I will need for my post-op recovery ( I won't be allowed stairs for the first couple of weeks). God has given me a good summer. I have put three pieces of work in sacred spaces. I have eaten the first figs from the trees I planted two years ago. All the work I have promised has been done. I have loved. I have been loved. Friends gather all around and hold me in the Light.
Whatever comes next, I don't know how it can be better than this. But God moves continually in the element of surprise.
BELOW:
"Rocker"
48x26x4 in.
pine, oak, maple, bamboo, found objects, micaceous oxides, acrylic
"Rocker"
48x26x4 in.
pine, oak, maple, bamboo, found objects, micaceous oxides, acrylic
Thursday 24 September 2009- My friend Foley and I are under house arrest for the next 20 days. Meanwhile, shamrocks are blooming by the kitchen door (below) and I am waiting, watching, listening for what comes next.
All the work I am doing now is inside, as this poor abused corpus tries to heal itself. The wound is interior, hidden; no one sees it but the Spirit who comes in the night and whispers, "Trust, and be made whole." I do trust. Even if I should not survive this adventure (and I expect to), there is wholeness in my future. I can claim it now, and carry it along with my brokenness into the secret places of the soul where Christ resides.
All the work I am doing now is inside, as this poor abused corpus tries to heal itself. The wound is interior, hidden; no one sees it but the Spirit who comes in the night and whispers, "Trust, and be made whole." I do trust. Even if I should not survive this adventure (and I expect to), there is wholeness in my future. I can claim it now, and carry it along with my brokenness into the secret places of the soul where Christ resides.
Saturday 26 September 2009- I crept out through the side gate this afternoon after the rain and picked a handful of figs, which I showed to Jane Ella when I got back in, and we ate them all. So sweet, an unexpected grace! By the gate, the redbud leaves (right) were all bejeweled with raindrops.
Oh, the blessed rain! While our neighbors across the mountain were getting washed away, we were granted a generous supply of something we sorely needed. It is a strange world where the difference between a blessing and a curse may be only a matter of proximities and location. But then, it is the same with the spiritual life; whether the soul withers or flourishes depends on where you are, who you are close to.
Oh, the blessed rain! While our neighbors across the mountain were getting washed away, we were granted a generous supply of something we sorely needed. It is a strange world where the difference between a blessing and a curse may be only a matter of proximities and location. But then, it is the same with the spiritual life; whether the soul withers or flourishes depends on where you are, who you are close to.
Tuesday 29 September 2009- Folks come to visit (I am exceedingly glad to see them) and as soon as they see for themselves that I'm not dead yet, they ask, "Are you able to work; are you doing any drawings or painting?" The truth is, I am able to do some work, like drawing, but I'm not doing it. Maybe next week. Right now I'm listening, watching, waiting for Jesus to show Himself, which He does, hour by hour and day by day, in ways small and great, always surprising.
There will be time enough for work. There has been time enough already. Now is my time to sit down with Mary at the feet of my Lord and Brother, and be still.
There will be time enough for work. There has been time enough already. Now is my time to sit down with Mary at the feet of my Lord and Brother, and be still.
Wednesday 30 September 2009- Here comes the sun! All things green are lifting up their heads and rejoicing. It looks more like spring than autumn. Apparently, the chipmunks do not have a taste for arugula (above) and turnip greens, which are thriving unmolested in the garden. The arugula should be ready to eat by next week. I do love that bitter/spice taste.
Figs. Just a handful each day, enough for a dessert, or for a light lunch, with herb bread and yogurt.
I had a couple of teaching engagements for the fall, which I have begged off, offering as an excuse my illness and various other involvements and obligations, but the main reason is that I am sick of hearing myself talk. There is also a growing sense, not so much a leading as a feeling in my gut, that I need to be doing something else in the year ahead besides running my yap.
Figs. Just a handful each day, enough for a dessert, or for a light lunch, with herb bread and yogurt.
I had a couple of teaching engagements for the fall, which I have begged off, offering as an excuse my illness and various other involvements and obligations, but the main reason is that I am sick of hearing myself talk. There is also a growing sense, not so much a leading as a feeling in my gut, that I need to be doing something else in the year ahead besides running my yap.
BELOW:
"LeConte Evening" 2005
acrylic on canvas
16x20 in.
Private collection: Mills River NC
"LeConte Evening" 2005
acrylic on canvas
16x20 in.
Private collection: Mills River NC
Thursday 1 October 2009- Jeff Greene came by this week to visit the sick old coot, and loaned me his copy of "Our Southern Highlanders" by Horace Kephart. I've been reading in it for about an hour after lunch every day, sitting out in the yurt. Watching the play of leaf shadow over the skin of the yurt, listening to the breeze stirring the trees, the squirrels barking as one of our urban hawks cries from high above, It is easy to imagine that I have pitched my tent away up on Mount LeConte, and that Kephart and George Masa might stick their heads in the door at any moment.
Jeff left me with a "get well" present he had made: an exquisitely simple little bottle (left), about 5" tall and 5" in diameter, with a wonderful soda glaze. Sure beats a card (although I am glad to get those, too).
Jeff left me with a "get well" present he had made: an exquisitely simple little bottle (left), about 5" tall and 5" in diameter, with a wonderful soda glaze. Sure beats a card (although I am glad to get those, too).
Saturday 3 October 2009- Ten days until Foley and I are divorced. Meanwhile, there is time to pray for my friends, time to look at things without any pressing compulsion to turn them into work, time to enjoy the hospitality of God, Who opens up each glorious day and says, "Come on in and sit ye down."
Sunday 4 October 2009- In any season of the year every season is present. The redbud leaves (left) say it is autumn, but the buds on the flame azaleas (above) are already primed toward spring. Some plants that bloomed in June (below), are blooming again in October, while all around are myriad seeds scattered among the grass, awaiting their long winter's sleep.
Monday 5 October 2009- For the first time since surgery two weeks ago, something resembling work today, as I proofed the "Winters Garden" edition (below). David Voorhees came by this afternoon and returned the unsold work from his summer show, and picked up the two pieces for the "Chair" show which opens October 9th.
A light rain most of the day. Finally feels like October.
A light rain most of the day. Finally feels like October.
Tuesday 6 October 2009- My surgeon says I may drive now in moderation; so it appears I may be able to get up to Flat Rock for the opening of David's show after all. Must keep my external plumbing for another week, though, and am still not allowed any real work.
Thursday 8 October 2009- Paint. That is what I do when I am impaired to the point I'm not allowed to do real work. It keeps the hand connected to the eye, and allows me to hone my vocabulary of forms. Truthbetold, in this instance, a client who has already bought a couple of my pieces is threatening me with a commission for a painting, and it seemed prudent while I have some time on my hands, since I haven't done any painting to speak of in a couple of years, to do a few warm-up exercises so I can hit the ground running should I get the nod.
I pulled out a sketchbook from about ten years ago full of quick little landscape doodles, which are vague enough and far enough removed from the moment so that I can concentrate on making paintings without being tempted to copy what I remember.
I pulled out a sketchbook from about ten years ago full of quick little landscape doodles, which are vague enough and far enough removed from the moment so that I can concentrate on making paintings without being tempted to copy what I remember.
Friday 9 October 2009- The early Celtic Christians were apparently onto something, then the Catholics decided it was safe to return to Ireland, and ever since, the "Church," whatever the current brand name, has been trying to put God back in the box, building ever fancier and costlier coffins to render the Eternal harmless and tame. Fortunately, Jesus refuses to stay where we've put Him.
Painting is the process whereby you try to "get into the picture", in this case, back to Ellard Garren's farm on a winter's day thirty years ago (right). When the work will allow you no more room to proceed, you stop, and hope the resulting evidence will be coherent and balanced enough so that you dare show it to someone.
RIGHT:
"Ellard's Place (work in progress)
acrylic on canvas
24 x 20 in.
Saturday 10 October 2009- A neighbor popped into the studio this morning, wanting to borrow my garden rake, and looked at one of the paintings I've been working on, "How long will it take you to finish this?" I didn't have the heart to tell him I've never actually "finished" a painting."Ellard's Place (work in progress)
acrylic on canvas
24 x 20 in.
Painting is the process whereby you try to "get into the picture", in this case, back to Ellard Garren's farm on a winter's day thirty years ago (right). When the work will allow you no more room to proceed, you stop, and hope the resulting evidence will be coherent and balanced enough so that you dare show it to someone.
Sunday 11 October 2009- A lot of what passes for worship in the steeple houses is performance. A lot of what passes for evangelism in churches is marketing. A lot of what passes for Silence in Friends' meetings is thinking up what to say next.
LEFT:
"Mask"
terra Cotta
6" x 3" x 2"
copyright ©2009 Jane Ella Matthews
Monday 12 October 2009- Whenever I'm tempted to take my own small abilities as an artist too seriously, I look at one of my wife's little pieces, and I'm brought promptly to earth. Jane Ella could have made sculpture her life's work had she not found better things to do. Although legally blind, she can shape in clay any form she can touch and feel- not just copying but altering scale and imbuing her work with lively emotion. Her little mask in terra cotta (left) is an example. So when I say she is my best critic, I am sincere. She brings an artist's skill and vision to everything she does. It is a great privilege and an abiding joy to be sharing her life.
Tuesday 13 October 2009- Freedom! Foley is gone. For three weeks he has stuck with me closer than a brother. I rejoice to be rid of him now.
"Any blessed day youns can go saunterin abrood in the world, ye should praise and be thankful fer." -Bruce Robert Holt.
Bruce Holt was my first father-in-law, and perhaps the only true saint I have ever met. The spelling in the quote is an attempt at approximating his speech, although unless you have heard the old Appalachian tongue spoken by one born to it, this will inform you little as to the sound and music of his language. Bruce was born and grew up in the Smokies, pre- park. He died thirty years ago, but comes to visit often, reminding me where my blessing is.
LEFT:
"Mask"
terra Cotta
6" x 3" x 2"
copyright ©2009 Jane Ella Matthews
Monday 12 October 2009- Whenever I'm tempted to take my own small abilities as an artist too seriously, I look at one of my wife's little pieces, and I'm brought promptly to earth. Jane Ella could have made sculpture her life's work had she not found better things to do. Although legally blind, she can shape in clay any form she can touch and feel- not just copying but altering scale and imbuing her work with lively emotion. Her little mask in terra cotta (left) is an example. So when I say she is my best critic, I am sincere. She brings an artist's skill and vision to everything she does. It is a great privilege and an abiding joy to be sharing her life.
Tuesday 13 October 2009- Freedom! Foley is gone. For three weeks he has stuck with me closer than a brother. I rejoice to be rid of him now.
"Any blessed day youns can go saunterin abrood in the world, ye should praise and be thankful fer." -Bruce Robert Holt.
Bruce Holt was my first father-in-law, and perhaps the only true saint I have ever met. The spelling in the quote is an attempt at approximating his speech, although unless you have heard the old Appalachian tongue spoken by one born to it, this will inform you little as to the sound and music of his language. Bruce was born and grew up in the Smokies, pre- park. He died thirty years ago, but comes to visit often, reminding me where my blessing is.
Wednesday 14 October 2009- A few days before my surgery, a friend on her way to spend forty days and forty nights at a Carmelite hermitage, left with us a bottle of splendid pinot noir, which Jane Ella and I opened last night to celebrate my "liberation." As we savored the wonderful wine, it filled us and surrounded us with a presence like prayer, and we thought of all the prayers that are doubtless being lifted up for all of us by our friend alone in the desert, with none to talk to, or listen to, but God. Suddenly, it becomes clear then- the real work of the Kingdom is not being done in church, or in our busy little scurryings toward "mission" and "witness," but in those solitary souls whose days and nights have no greater hunger or thirst or desire than to know Jesus. Everything else issues from that.
A gray day, breezy and cool. A fine mist in the air since dawn. In the upper reaches of Jones Gap, along the Bill Kimball trail, the leaves have already gone to color by now (right). Oh, how I would love to be there right now!
Out in the garden, turnip greens are ready to pick. I'll get some of them tomorrow, and cook up a mess for Jane Ella, with apples, onions and hot peppers. This is, all in all, my favorite time of year. A time to lay aside things that are not important. A time to gather in those that are. A time to be close about the fire at night with those you love. A time to walk out alone through the shortening days. A time to begin a journey.
A gray day, breezy and cool. A fine mist in the air since dawn. In the upper reaches of Jones Gap, along the Bill Kimball trail, the leaves have already gone to color by now (right). Oh, how I would love to be there right now!
Out in the garden, turnip greens are ready to pick. I'll get some of them tomorrow, and cook up a mess for Jane Ella, with apples, onions and hot peppers. This is, all in all, my favorite time of year. A time to lay aside things that are not important. A time to gather in those that are. A time to be close about the fire at night with those you love. A time to walk out alone through the shortening days. A time to begin a journey.
