First snow of 2025...

 ...and I can't believe I'm still alive.

Well, it's true, it is. It's the 10th of January, 2025, and I awoke and arose at 5:50 am, peeked out the window through a raised slat in the blinds, pulled on my XXL flannel nightshirt (I know, I know) and came into my study. Been searching ideas for an indoor herb garden right off past my computer monitor, to become a reality on the new plant stands off to my left and right underneath the south-facing windows whose sills are just a couple feet off the floor. This'll be fun.

I'm going to dabble with succulents. Tell me not to do it. I challenge you. Tell me.

When I stole that look out the window earlier, there was no snow. Now, at 7:15, the white stuff is falling and there's a perceivable dusting on cars beneath my window, and driveways and sidewalks out there are also nicely dusted. The streets are not, though a spread of snowfall is beginning to inch out onto the road. It's been pretty much bitterly cold this past couple weeks, cold enough to host a solid snowfall, and it's predicted that it will be falling all day. 

Fun.

Funny how every snow reminds one of every snow before. That effect is stronger in temperate climes, especially one such as mine, which shares up every one of the four seasons and their annual sublties each year. When I lived in Alaska, of course, this would be a really mild winter day since, in the Anchorage winter I recall snow cover almost all winter long. No, the snows before that I recall every new snow are those in Nashville, the Nashville of my black and white then color youth.

Luckily, there's nothing on my calendar but "water the plants" today. I'll do that, and I'll lightly fertilize. Look at me, growing into my middle name, "Gardner" in my late blooming years. I'm going to fill those plant stands with 

To address the elephant, it's just that I'm daily awed by the fact that I still arise each morning with a curiosity, filled with wonder about how the day's going to go. What will I make today? I am pushing 75 this year and if this old body didn't betray it constantly, I don't feel much older than my 20s. Go Figger. 

Here. I'll take a picture of what I'm "working" on in the studio. Then later, I'll come back and post its sister image, its time-enhanced completion, its worthy product. Here:

my two current paintings and their digital photo sources onscreen for reference

underpainting for "lemongirl's lost tongue"

Okay, enough of that. If I forget to follow up on my earlier promise, you will be able to view the completed painting at my site, scottmerrick.me. I'm pretty good about upkeep there.

So yeah, though I've been telling people for years that I don't feel a day over 90, that's less and less true week by week. I'm listening to Cormac McCarthy's All the Pretty Horses on Audible, and I recently heard a segment where John Grady and Rawlings, in prison, marveled at the fact that an elderly prisoner had stopped being tortured in their current home, a Mexican prison. They mused that perhaps there was just no satisfaction in torturing the old, since they already live in pain. It struck a chord, pal, it struck a chord. 

I refuse to elaborate on mine, the only exception being when talking to my doctor. If my honey asks why I'm wincing, I tend to answer briefly and stop wincing, as much as I can. It's not that I'm too proud to admit to having pain, I just think that adding words to the world which create negative vibes is a counter-spiritual thing to do. Anyway.

After several diversions away from my desk, I return to close this out. It's 10:16am in Nashville and the snow is falling just the same as it was at 7:15. I'd guestimate a couple inches as of now, and the forecast is for heavy snow another 10 hours. We'll see. Here's a little vid taken earlier...

:

 

out my studio window, around and back

Peace out. Stay housed, fed, and loved.

Summer, here, and we prep for travel

 Well, well, well (again), here we are once more. Me and my imaginary readers. 

Wait. I know you're real and I know how grateful I am for you. Let me pop over to my online Gratefulness Journal to say that.

Back.

My boy Colin is in town from his hometown of choice, Missoula Montana. I am so happy to be in the same room, car, or Nashville venue with this centered, talented, and kind human being. I miss him every day when I am not, but I am happy with his decision to live in that beautiful place. I remember when I lived in Anchorage lo those many years ago I hardly spoke and never saw either of my parents for over 5 years. Thank god that's not the case with either of my magic children. Here's me and Colin at table in our Nations Nashville home:

scott and colin at Chez Merrique, courtesy of Tim Buell

And a pic of both our children, smooching on their beautiful mom, on our paradisial back porch:

Colin, and Miranda Lee smooching mom on Mothers Day

Why do I blog, still, after so long? It should be obvious: blogging provides a consistent wandering ripple throughout my years and helps me clear my head and honor my thoughts and those of others. Look back on some posts, from 2005 on, and see for yourself. Take a look at a short story, my novel (available on Amazon in both Kindle and paperback), my novella, or a post about the future of education, my bailiwick for nearly 30 years, an original song, or jump around for a poem or two. It's all there. As my dear sis-in-law Amy explains to my cherished wife, "It's his book."

That's a simplification, of course, as the blog contains most of my books, but I like it. Many of my links have gone dead, as platforms used for photo sharing, news sites, and other blogs have crapped out and been nullified; but I likely won't take up the goal of revising anything from 18 years ago to present. I prefer to be here now. It's my thing. But a perusal of past posts will reveal some trends and share some good past, and may be of historical use to the alien researchers who follow us. 

These past couple weeks I've been working on an abstract that I am as of yesterday calling finished. Why do so many of these efforts result in color studies and shapes that are full of motion and energy? I don't know, really, but I'm calling this one "terminal ascension," and it may be whatever it may be to you. I see things and suggestions of events and natural phenomena in this piece. My mentor, Charles Brindley, hasn't seen this, as I completed it at home. There is a lot underneath it, and a concentration on tensions of both texture and color, and I had fun with the palette knives and the brushes. I have promised myself to seek some softness and peace in my next abstract, but here is 

"terminal ascension", photo of 16x20 acrylic painting by scott merrick

On the more realistic side, a study of dusk at Cheatham Lake, my preferred local camping waterside, is underway. Charles has helped with this one with cutting insights on contrast and underpainting, along with color mixing suggestions. It's not finished but it is sneaking up on it, a process that is undercut every time I see something new in the iPhoto I took that delicious evening. I want to express calm here. Maybe that's the thing aforementioned: I work for expressing peace in my landscapes and my left-behind work, like "on the inside" and "rocky's ridge from rocky's ridge." Anyway, definitely a WIP, here is 

"dusk @ cheatham lake", photo of a work in progress, acrylics on 16x20 canvas by scott merrick

I'll end with a little humorousity (sic). My dear love-of-my-life was messing around in my studio closet, rearranging things as she will, and this painting on up-cycled scrap treated lumber (a medium I may well revisit) was maybe precariously propped up on the door trip above the closet door. I'm not sure how, but it decided to drop from its perch right on her noggin, falling to the floor. I'm not sure if it broke on her head or on the floor, but break it did. This one doesn't have a name, as is sometimes my wont, but, anyway, I propped it up on the floor and in between the two halves I placed a curio I purchased in a thrift store years ago, an incense burner just tacky enough to have caught my eye. I sort of like the staging and may do some media work to make it a permanent piece. What should I call it?

"untitled", acrylics on treated scrap lumber, by scott merrick

We are journeying overseas in a couple of weeks, for a couple of weeks. We'll be in Spain excepting for one brief outing into France near San Sebastian, staying in only 4 overnight hotels over a period of 17 days, and hopping from one to the other via train and plain. The trip was planned through consultations with the (highly recommended) RH Travel Design here in Nashville, and we are soooooo looking forward to it. It's all upscale accommodations and travel, and we both are expecting, literally, the trip of a lifetime. There are LOTS of food, wine, cultural, and art experiences built in along the way, along with ample down time to explore or just relax together. I'll be documenting, most likely, but don't hold me to that, and don't expect anything while it's underway. I plan to be here now, there, in my most present ways. Think good thoughts about safe travel for us--we are all in. 

For all the slum bag lurker thieves out there, our good friends Matt and Anitra will be staying here with our killer dog Watson, and the NCA alarm system will be in use. Don't even think about it.

To everyone else, regardless of your politics or any other enlightened or misguided beliefs, I hope your days will be good and that you will remain safe and well and alive as we roll around the center of the planet and circle around the good ol' sun.

Okay, well, I can make it monthly :)

 Well, well, well, here it is--nearly a month after the previous post. Who would have thought I would be so busy in retirement from the education game that I would be reduced to posting so infrequently. It is a good thing, though! 

Been painting. 

I have re-upped for Charles Brindley's open studio class at Scarritt Bennett Conference Center right across the street from my workplace of 14 years, USN. This semester, instead of attending twice a week for three hours a pop, I am clearing the calendar for fishing and camping so I go once a week for 3-6 hours. Here is an abstract I call "exsanguination," which dictionary.com defines as: 

[ eks-sang-gwuh-ney-shuhn ]

noun

the act or process of draining or losing blood:

With an extreme mite infestation, up to 6% of a bird’s blood can be drained daily, causing it to become anemic or even die by exsanguination.

the act or process of bleeding to death:

The consequences can range from minor blood loss to exsanguination.

"exsanguination", acrylic on 16x20 stretched canvas, by Scott Merrick, 2023

I do enjoy me some abstract acrylic painting, because I like to play with textures and shapes. My abstracts often have layers and layers as I struggle to draw out intimated meaning potential. The name came after the painting had been completed, beginning with a coined one, "sinmagination." Funny how trains of thought can derail into meaningful connections.
I was working on a portrait of my best buddy Watson alongside the work on exsanguination. This one hopes to convey his lovely smile. I have had two sets of people tell me emphatically that he resembles Matt Damon. I see it, I see it.

"Watson", acrylics on 16x20 stretched canvas, by Scott Merrick, 2023

I will say here that I have been getting the odd notice that Google has put a warning notice in front of several posts in my "Oh! Virtual Learning!" educational blog, which is no longer being updated but did run from 2007 to 2014, with a random update after that in 2019. I leave it up as an archive to everything I and my small but driven band of merry pranksters did in our efforts to bring the Metaverse to educational use, yes we did, during that period. Those were some days, and we tried intensely and we tried with all we had. The fact that the Metaverse has experienced a flop of epic proportions in the last several years is simply testament to the steadfastness with which human beings cling to the past. Here we are, still educating the masses to be factory workers, grouping them by manufacture date, giving worksheets and tests and grades, in rooms which, even though they may be furnished with chairs arranged in ways other than rows (but often are not), are still rooms.
I have mildly revised those few posts and hit the "request review" button for Google but, really? Google, check your Community Standards and if you are going to put a post behind a firewall try specifying what the alleged offense may be, not just telling the blogger to review the guidelines and make changes. Seriously.
That's it for today. I'm off to continue working on the perfection of my "retirement." Cheerio!

March, Coming Up on an Anniversary

I don't mean we are marching towards it, but maybe in a metaphorical sense. It's just 36 years of being legally married. She is my best friend and my life's love. More, please.

I'm doing my things, painting, fishing (not much on accounta the weather), playing some music, taking care of the hacienda, walking my doggy. Lee Ann's working on work, continuing to make Tinwings better in all ways, and maybe keeping a big announcement to herself for a while. No, she's not preggie. 

I completed another painting in what I foresee will be a little series of "vivid rorschach" paintings. I cleverly call it "vivid rorschach 2".

vivid rorschach 2, acrylics on stretched canvas, 16x20 inches, by Scott Merrick 2023

These are fun, especially when planned to mirror color relationships of one another. And I am really enjoying playing with the palate knives. Feel free to click on over to the original to think about what the hell this guy is doing with them. 

I'm going to head down to downtown Nashville this morning to see if I can find some painting-worthy images for my collection of iphotography. Then I'll do lunch at 3rd and Lindsley, timed to enjoy WMOT Roots Radio's "Finally Friday" trifecta of great emerging (and experienced) musical talents. If you are anywhere nearby, or you plan to visit Nashville, this is a must do. The chili and beer is good alll by itself. If you are not in our fair city (Tennessee's liberal bastion now under state administrative attack in an unprecedented way), tune into 89.5 FM from noon to two pm every Friday to listen. A gem always.

See ya.