Tao-Chi

Or Shitao – translations are imperfect and names often change with careers. A Chinese painter contemporary with Reubens and Rembrandt who could not be more different. I’ve never really enjoyed Rubens, but I adore Rembrandt as a free spirit. Shitao is much more modern and kin to John Marin .

Whatever visual art may be in its many forms naturally reflects on its culture. Much of the Renaissance work now seems pretty boring in light of cinema, photography, AI, and slick advertising. The “shocking” impressionists are easily imitated by ubiquitous computer programs. What is a painter to do ?

I’ve gone my own way. I accept my various handicaps as part of what makes me unique. I try to correct a few things, work on fluidity and spontaneousness, be creative but not lose touch with the real world as I experience it .

There’s a great satisfaction in that. It’s why I’ve always admired the “literati” tradition. Although often observed in the breach, the ideal was of gentlemen of means who made pictures in their spare time and did not need to sell them. With a bit of philosophy thrown in .

So periodically I pull out my library volumes and admire some nearly life-size color reproductions. It truly helps me relax and create on my own blank sheets of mulberry paper .

A Pound of Prevention

Everyone knows “an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure”. Another one of those wise sayings that seem less useful when applied to your own life .

Oh it’s good to be prepared, and to try to avoid horrible later problems by planning for them and even taking some action to avoid the worst. As a first approximation, it’s hardly bad advice. Filling the gas tank before a long trip across the desert avoids pain and expense .

But these days, there’s a little too much prevention available, and much of that only haphazardly connected to avoiding cures. If you follow every bit of internet advice on diet, for example, no good is likely to result. Much “prevention” rests on flimsy evidence. And genuine “cures” are not all that hard to come by. Pounds of (possible) prevention are hardly worth carrying around to avoid an ounce of cure .

One of the biggest problems, of course, is that advice for the future is based on past experience. In rapidly changing times, the past is hardly the best guide to what will be. Even when we think we are following tradition, the chicken soup we eat today may scarcely resemble that of our ancestors. And honestly, we live in a much different environment from them .

Common sense old proverbs have therefore become suspect. Even though they may sound comforting .

Glad I’m Me

Some mornings I wake up simply thrilled to be me, alive and conscious in this time and place. I once had a colleague who described life as “a vacation from eternity”. Today I would agree with him .

Like most of our evaluations, I suppose this attitude is simply an illusion. Nothing rational about it. Logic can always pick out problems – past present and future. But from my current perspective, the illusion is more real and meaningful than logic. I cherish it .

No doubt many others would mock my happiness as simply the advancing incapacity of old age. Our facilities weaken, so we wallow in imaginary nostalgia, thinking our sorry lives were rich and meaningful. Fortunately, I rarely care what others – especially the pessimists and gloomers – think about me. They are free to frolic in their depressing visions – which I tend to believe are also illusions .

Nah, I’m not that far around the bend. I know the world has problems. I’m aware I have my own. But on some days, as the sunshine streams in the window, I can just forget all that and happily play in the enchanting glory of being alive here at this exact moment.

Snowstorm

In this colder than normal winter, another large snowstorm has covered the area. It gives me a chance to reflect on my luck in living when and where I do .

Aboriginal inhabitants of America are often pictured in summer, and described as inhabiting Eden. Early colonists are shown as snug in log cabins. But in fact there was illness and famine, rarely enough heat, and little to do but wait out the season and hope for spring. Even a hundred years or so back there was often no electricity .

I now inhabit paradise. I expect there to be constant warmth, light, entertainment. Too much food, always fresh fruit and vegetables. Medical aid reliably available. People think it’s a great inconvenience to be “stuck at home” for even a day .

Until ten years or so ago I had to shovel a large driveway, but now I just walk behind my machine .

It’s always good to appreciate the best times, the finest weather. But perhaps it is more appropriate to give thanks for our technology and civilization when the natural world is less kindly. This morning I certainly do so .

Ain’t What You Do

As the old song goes “ain’t what you do, it’s the way what you do it.” We have come to recognize the value of those lyrics in these days of a clumsy, brutalist federal government. Maybe what they are doing is not strictly “illegal” – although that is open to question – but the manner in which they carry out activities is simply awful and completely out of step with the traditions of this culture .

The president is a loose cannon. Taking outrageous positions, annoying or horrifying everyone, then forgetting what he was trying to do. His asymptotic hyperbole – anyone who disagrees with his current thinking is foul evil incarnate for a day or so. He must be stroked and praised or he throws a tantrum. We’re not used to that in the US .

And, of course, we have the focal point of ICE, a law enforcement body whose members have no resemblance in appearance nor deed to any police here in the past. To begin with they assume their target is guilty, violent, and vicious (with no evidence whatsoever) and pretend they are engaged in a dangerous heroic act as they haul away frightened men, women, and children whose only fault is to be around when a quota comes due .

There are, and were, civilized and less provocative ways to do this. We used to call it “rule of law” and “due process.” The appropriate terminology now might be “fear and awe”. Or simply “terror” .

Certification

The aristocratic elites always have a reason for their position at the top of society. Once upon a time it was “divine will” or “blue blood”. Now it is “merit” as if each child has an equal chance to become one of the people the elite are looking for in the next generation. What they are looking for mostly is people just like them …

In any system the extremely competent or extremely lucky have a small but finite chance to rise up a class or two. Until recently much of that ladder was financial worth, another favorite tradition of aristocrats .

Meanwhile, the lesser folks also sought some means of security, however humble. Once it was guilds, or the trade your father did. Recently, much was directed at “certification” .

Certification is simply a disguised guild system. In today’s economy and information age it is largely irrelevant. But legal requirements provide a useful barrier to entry to anyone trying to break into the club. Costs and time keep the riffraff at bay almost as well as “merit” insulates the wealthy. Mostly, it services the shrinking “middle class”. Oh, it all works, it seems. Always has. Society needs to use stuff like this to accommodate individuals. But a Martian ethnologist would surely have fun observing and writing its term paper .