Writing With Light

The blue sky? The yellow bird? The green pine?

P1200192Female American Goldfinch in a Lodgepole Pine the Beetles Missed

Big Bar Lake

Hardly. Those are properties of human sight, and of American Goldfinch sight as well. We are creatures of the earth, on Earth. Should we ever leave Earth, we will still see with the earth’s eyes. What does that mean, to see with the Earth’s eyes? Ah, this, I think:

P1190850Pond and Aspen, Big Bar Lake

Because of the earth-based properties of human sight, the nature of the universe can be worked out in terms of colour just as powerfully as it can in terms of logical processes. Both are science, which is nothing more nor less than the creation of knowledge out of experience. There’s nothing in that that says that the knowledge created has to take the form of a set of universal laws, or that the creation of a vast intellectual pattern superseding physical perception is the only way of thinking. That’s only a cultural bias.


The World Turning Blue Late in the Day, Big Bar Lake

Photographers and painters have known this for a long time. Now that culture has gone visual, writers are freed from texts and can start sculpting the world again.

P1190822Walking on the Big Bar Eskers

This is our book now. What an exciting time to be alive. That’s the observation. Now, to publish in that space.



6 replies »

  1. I used to write in silver, white and caput mortuum. Nice contrast but the audience found it too bloody. Caput mortuum is an earth colour though. White as in moonstone and silver a moon colour as well. If you move inside the colours change maybe.


    • Move inside one’s own silver stage? Dress in white, with Lech Walesa on the back of the steed of the self? Dress in blood and put silver ink in one’s veins? Dress in the audience and saddle up the earth? Move outside the colours and change maybe to and? Write with Lux and dress the moon in Goethe’s old pink frock coat? Drink as much wine as Goethe did and even try to stand up straight? Hmmm?


      • Nono, really no blood anymore. No wine either. Didn’t know Goethe was drinking. Dressing in the audience sounds tempting but bloody and that would contradict, the “no blood-rule”. Ink is always Eisengallus, also a nice colour, nightsky. There is no audience. Audience scares me. Always did. I considered to stop even the harmless non-writing this evening when I was on the fields with the dogs. Unsure. Before the return of the.. somebody.. I created a hidden blog and was even writing in (broken) English and blood. The question to write or not to write seems to be rather a complicated one. I do not want anybody to know what I write if I write, but I do seem to want somebody to read it. I could write on paper and hide it. But that’s not what I’m doing. That’s all your fault I think. I mean the writing. The not-writing isn’t. There was more to the religious thingy as well, but that’s another article. ^^


      • Yes, there’s lots to say about writing and not-writing. I would love to continue that discussion and learn your point of view on that, as I’m working on a piece about all these vague states. That needs a different blog! The religious thing lots more to say there, too. You appeared to want to discuss the negative sides of the Christian cult. I’m intrigued by what it managed to absorb, and what managed to survive and sometimes prosper within it. Skills that stood the Reds in good stead in Buchenwald and democrats in the DDR. We should talk more on this topic, too. Another blog! Oh no! It’s getting out of hand! Blogs on all fingers! A quick sip of soup, and more blogs. Fingers NOT bloody, of course, just ground down to pencil stubs. Goethe: 2 bottles of wine a day, sometimes 2.5, on a regular schedule. Absolutely sloshed. And the pink frock coat was real, too! What a guy! The first 2 years of his job as Secretary of the Interior for the Duke in Weimar he had to finance his wardrobe and the high life himself, in order to meet the standards of the nobility and secure his position. Mozart failed at that, but then he was a gambler, not a drinker. Always more dangerous, when one gambles with the nobility at the end of their tether.


      • It didn’t seem to influence Goethe’s writing badly though. That’s rather surprising. 2 bottles would knock me unconscious. Maybe that’s how he managed to write something boring like Die Wahlverwandtschaften. “Must continue writing, but it’s so damn boring. Give me one more glass of wine.” Used to know a guy who always started to sing when he saw me (because of “Constanze”). Could write a story in which someone kills him (for that). Blood on ivory and grey 18th century letters with iron gall ink.


      • That’s the spirit! One bottle was for lunch, and then he had a nap! Go figure! I look forward to your story.


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