Jim Morrison and the Future of Music

Over two decades passed before I found myself playing music again. I recall meditating and drifting into composing without noticing the shift. Afterwards, I sat under the big cottonwood tree in my yard and contemplated the thought of music. Within a week, Tonya's piano is rolling through the studio doors. There is a long history with this piano. I am very aware of Tonia's mother as I relearn my way up and down the black and white avenue of keys. I am on a road of discovery and healing with music. As I dig in and try and seek my place in the art of sound, I find sadness in the evolution of music. Beat by beat our creative souls are being synthesized into digital electronics. The life support system of the heart has knobs, dials, loops, and sliders. Androids making music for androids. - Rhett Lynch

The Day We Killed Geoffrey

Today I had a moment to visit the house where I grew up. There were many more trees when I lived there and less prairie dogs. Memories and emotions competed for space in my consciousness while I scanned for visual details. Just before I drove off, I started laughing. I remembered the day we killed Geoffrey.

I don't know always know where my inspiration comes from. On this day, it was inspired by my new red Schwinn bicycle. I convinced my friends we should have a bicycle race on the roof of my house while my parents were gone. It took a little persuading, but finally we were hoisting our two wheelers to the roof. The track was marked with small rocks.

Quickly we became daring, thinking less and less about falling off the house and more and more of feeling free, alive and unstoppable. In between racing sessions I got off the roof to get a drink from the water hose. A pitiful outcry moved from above me to just next to me. It was Geoffrey; he wasn't moving. From the edge of the roof stood a line of boys looking down at his still body. Someone softly said, "We killed Geoffrey."

In old western movies you throw water on someone who isn't moving. This was Texas and that is what I did. I turned the hose on Geoffrey and he began to cry. He was the youngest of the group. We straightened the handlebars on his bicycle and walked him home. We told his mom we were all racing and he had a bad fall. We didn't say he fell off the house.   

Artist Journal • Easter

I remember when I was a little boy and the Easter Clown would come and visit my aunts. He taught me how to paint my Easter eggs in camouflage so they would be harder to find. Once I found the twelve dozen eggs he hid for me, I would then have to find the Easter Clown and my aunts. Finally they would show up right before dark. They were always laughing and acting silly when they returned. The Easter Clown was funny. This always made sense to me because he was a clown. To be the Easter Clown you probably had to be a lot funnier than a birthday clown. After dinner Easter Clown would teach me a magic trick. One year he taught me how to pull a rabbit out of my hat. This skill became useful in my career as an artist. I ask if could he make the rabbit disappear. He taught me one of the most wondrous mysteries and indeed, shared with me the secret of making something disappear. The following Easter my aunts worn the new Easter dresses they sewn by hand with matching bonnets. In turn they would look out the window, check the phone, and walk onto the front porch. Easter Clown never arrived. On days like today I think about Easter Clown and what it would be like to be a magician. I never attended clown collage like I promised. At twenty-four I was ready to make the commitment of life as a clown until I discovered the school was in Florida.

Artist Journal • 4.4.15

I look at this image often. I don't know who created it. I wish I did. If you take the time to study this closely, you might find many stories that are not apparent at first glance. To me, it says so much about the infinite possibilities of beauty when humans co-create. Sadly, these stories of hope do not make the mainline news. Fear is what you will find in the mass media. Fear is what keeps your mind a slave.