It's so satisfying to be back in the soulful city of Seattle, sitting in a cafe, enjoying a great cup of coffee, listening to the rain.
On the wall across from me is a Michael Dailey original, one of his spectacular landscape-inspired abstractions. I've always loved his work. These color field paintings are particularly arresting, like desert sunsets, yet somehow evocative of the Pacific Northwest. Similar to Mark Rothko, Georg Gudni and Hiroshi Sugimoto, Dailey was able to conjure atmospheric windows to a misty horizon, conveying a sense of longing for something just out of reach.
Even as we enjoy these winter rains, we're already looking forward to this summer's tours and residencies in the San Francisco Bay Area (June 1-30), Pacific Northwest (July 10-20), and California Coast (July 21-26)! Plenty of workshops, concerts, festivals, club appearances and more.
"There is something to be learned from a rainstorm. When meeting with a sudden shower, you try not to get wet and run quickly along the road. But doing such things as passing under the eaves of houses, you still get wet. When you are resolved from the beginning, you will not be perplexed, though you still get the same soaking. This understanding extends to everything." —Ghost Dog
AND who art thou? said I to the soft-falling shower,
Which, strange to tell, gave me an answer, as here translated:
I am the Poem of Earth, said the voice of the rain,
Eternal I rise impalpable out of the land and the bottomless sea,
Upward to heaven, whence, vaguely form'd, altogether changed,
and yet the same,
I descend to lave the drouths, atomies, dust-layers of the globe,
And all that in them without me were seeds only, latent, unborn;
And forever, by day and night, I give back life to my own origin,
and make pure and beautify it
(For song, issuing from its birth-place, after fulfilment, wandering,
Reck'd or unreck'd, duly with love returns.)