Just A Brooklyn Boy - Henry Miller

Portrait of Henry Miller In Big Sur by Henri Cartier-Bresson

 
I've never read The Tropic of Cancer. Truth is, I'm a embarrassed to say I've never read a single solitary book by Henry Miller. What I did know about him wasn't much, until now. A person might get the impression he was rather chauvinistic, philandering man.  But I see him rather as a hopeless romantic, perhaps chasing after the illusive ideal love.

I believe he possessed a deeply creative soul. A philosopher of sorts, and definitely had 'street cred', and in his own words "I'm just a Brooklyn boy."  "I lived in the street and acquired the typical American gangster spirit."


His love affair with Anaïs Nin, gained a lot of notoriety, mostly because of her dairies I think. He was married five times. I get the impression both men and women found him charismatic.
Oh to have a time machine as I envy his life and time in Paris, being surrounded by artists, and writers.

I admire Henry Miller because he had the courage and the audacity to be himself. He had the fortitude to follow his passions and convictions regardless of what others thought. Money and fame were never his priority. 

The fact that he was a painter before he was a writer, I find really compelling, and what he had to say about painting even more so.

I found a great site, which is a tribute to him, by Dr. Hugo Heyrman. It's full of photos and facts with loads of information.

I intend to try and track down Henry Miller's book, To Paint Is To Love Again.

Jack Kerouac - King of The Beats

 “Practice kindness all day to everybody and you will realize you’re already in heaven now.”
  - Jack Kerouac


I subscribe to Brain Pickings, an awesome site with loads of great information about art and culture, to name a few topics. This article about Jack Kerouac is really fascinating.

I've always had a great fascination with Jack Kerouac, as many of us did, that missed the 50s but grew up in the 60s. Traveling on the road like he did, is a life experience no one should miss. It changes you, makes you become introspective, your perception toward the human condition becomes acute, seeing the good, bad and the ugly.

There is something about being exposed to the elements, in the great out of doors, that gives you the kind of connection to the world that you can not get by way of any other means, only by being out there, on the road.


Traveling in my youth, and spending a lot of time as an adult, depending of the kindness of others when hitch hiking, while I was struggling to get back and forth from University, gave me this perspective and connection. I had a greater appreciation, a gratitude for life, and for human beings. I also learned what I was made of, and the inner resources and strengths I had to draw upon.

I also realize now, one of the reasons I relate to Jack Kerouac is because of his disease of alcoholism, and having a father who was also alcoholic. It's tragic that there was such a stigma about being alcoholic then, and many, Jack Kerouac included, lost their life to this disease, that does a complete and thorough job of destroying families and human beings.


What I found today, I think is the jewel in the crown of the King of The Beats . An excellent documentary I suggest you take the time to watch.You won't be sorry.

Jack Kerouac - Robert Frank

School's Out On The Road

The last day of classes at Mount Allison were officially over on December 5th 2011. I still have a few loose ends to tie up and that's it for me. I am so looking forward to next term, my last before graduation.
Wow, the reality of my pending graduation and last term is beginning to seriously sink in. It's a wonderful, somewhat daunting reality and I'm certain when the end finally comes the experience will be very surreal to me.

There are several surreal moments in time that stand out for me, while attending the Fine Art program at Mount Allison. These moments in time covered the gambit from fantastic to freaky, frustrating, funny to plain silly. Suffice to say, certainly far from the bottom of the list, was stress. I admit I had a melt down or two out on my "highway of dreams".

There have been challenges that would perhaps boggle some folks minds. Frankly it boggles my mind, when I contemplate hitchhiking back and forth, from home to school and back home again, an hour and fifteen minutes away, for seven months. I did that. Some of these "rides" were like out of a page from a Stephen King novel. The very peculiar , 50 something woman, who picked me up at 9 o'clock in the morning. Considering I  grew up in the sixties, nothing quite prepared me for seeing her holding a joint in a long extended roach clip, asking if it would bother me if she lite this up. I thought, she must be smoking that rolled smoke in order to keep her fingers from getting brown with tobacco. I told her I was allergic, maybe she could put the window down, it was her car, so go ahead. At this point, I still hadn't clued in it was a doobie, until she stated she wouldn't light it up at the bridge where the road crew was working, because she was afraid someone would call the cops on her.

As we motored along, she eventually lite up and the familiar aroma reminiscent  of my fringe-hippie days gone by, wafted up my nostrils. I had a meeting that morning with my Professor. Then I thought, oh God, I am going to reek of dope and he is going to think I've been indulging. Fortunately she didn't smoke the whole thing and soon put it out, and I wasn't able to get to my appointment on time. On the way, she began to explain the details about how she was actually a twin, but her twin didn't survive and was some how, now growing out of her neck and her ribs. She then described how her ex-husband had abused her and caused her to loose the use of her eye. It was three weeks  she said, until she could get to a doctor, she would pop her eye in and out of it's socket and would wash her eyeball and pop in back in. Needless to say I was glad to get out of that car.

There are many lessons learned here and many weren't at University, they were, on the road.

"The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn, like fabulous yellow Roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars, and in the middle, you see the blue center-light pop, and everybody goes ahh..."

Jack Kerouac, On The Road