Words and images of a SHākē persona.
Beyond Plum Creek's SHākē Laureate in Residence. Part muse. A dapper Gandhian-like Mad Hatter, who goes about life throwing paint into the air in hopes something just might stick. And, he wears a cool hat.
A one-eyed old crow that thinks he is an Eagle. And tells it like it is, with a somewhat polluted angry bird philosphy.
An ugly star. An adolescent breeze on a tear. The compassionate vagabond. Content to curl up in decay and poverty. Home for her; where no one else dares. First to throw a lifeline. The first to bite back if poked.
Light Lines. They fall. And you know they will. You pick them up. They disappear. Still. They fall again. And I would have told you, had I known you then. Slow it down. Quietly step back. Be still. Listen. Listen with your eyes. Hear what the light has to say. As shadows bend across mindsets. And again, I would say, had I known you then. Oh how I wish I could think without thinking. To see things simply. As they are. Just to have it all fall into place. Making complete and perfect sense.
Ron Sexsmith's WORDS WE NEVER USE