We got some snow yesterday. White on the trees and then… not. The relatively warm lake water causes melting along its borders, underlining the bright dusting above. Warm and cool: delineation.

What a literal example of it! But really, isn’t that how we move through life: warm – I love it. Cool – not so much (except, if, in fact it is “cool”, right?) My grandfather, a doctor, used to say all medicine was really about warm and cool.

And life. And art. Dear Mr. Monet, now in his eighties in the part of the book I’m enjoying, has hit a rough/cool spell. He’s stopped. Can’t do his art and is moaning and groaning.

His good friend, though, recognizes this state: that Monet’s art was bound up with these sorts of complaints, and with a tortured state of perpetual self-doubt. He goes on to say: “If you are happy you would not be a true artist since it’s necessary for your reach to exceed your grasp…”

I do love that reason for the self-doubt. His definition of the “true artist” is such that it includes facing difficulty. The cool.

But what this wise friend recommends to Monet is… finding : “rage … because it stirs up the blood”.

Action. Warm.

As I’ve mentioned, I just had a rather bad “cold”. Now that I’m improving, I’m warming up again. Regaining energy, the “fire” inside to do my art.

It’s seems so simple, right? Cool and warm. Still or movement. No art.

Then art.

Dark trees next to light.