This song is a conversation across time between a present-day, reasonably happy and well-adjusted protagonist and his pseudo-suicidally-depressed earlier self.
The mature version reaches back over the decades to hopefully assure the younger version that circumstances can and will get better. But there’s a subtext that darkness—and the neurochemical reality of depression—lurks in the shadows, and can return unexpectedly if not managed.
If you want to hear just the song without the video, you may find it on Apple Music, Spotify, or CD Baby. (It may also be available on other streaming music services.)
Below are the lyrics. You may also see these in the context of the song if you enable closed-captions in the video above.
Pictures from Bridges
A million years ago you grappled with your plight
The existential pain of a life
The Great Unknown was nigh
And complications were running high
You contemplated darkening night with your flight
But something turned you back to the light
A premonition of the hope and joy that were to come
Your people and your purpose here
Now, like a tree, you know
Seasons are the way it goes
Riding out your storm while you sing to the breeze
A lovesong that you learned from the night
Pictures from bridges overgrown
Memory of a future unknown
Song of a million years ago
Painted in a cave in Lascaux
Pictures from bridges made of stone
Pictures from bridges haunt me
Pictures from bridges haunt me
Ode to a sleepy little village in Western Massachusetts.
Three Rivers is a sleepy little village in Western Massachusetts, a few miles down the road from where I live. Right in the middle of the village, the Ware River and the Quaboag River (pictured above) flow together and form the Chicopee River, thus giving the place its name. I’m not sure why it wasn’t called “Four Rivers”—less than a mile away the Swift River flows into the Ware River.
Many years ago in an earlier chapter of my life, I had considered moving here. At the time I was in need of a home base that would allow reasonable access to both Boston to the east, and the heart of the Pioneer Valley to the west. The plan never materialized—I ended up living in Easthampton for the ensuing dozen years. But over the years Three Rivers stayed lodged in the back of my mind as a little bookmark or touchstone of a “road not taken.”
Recently I had some business to do at a nearby hospital. As a result, I had occasion to pass through Three Rivers a few times over the course of a month. I took advantage of the opportunity to get out on foot, and I explored and reminisced a bit. I wondered again what I ever saw in the place.
One could say that Three Rivers is a bit depressed, economically and culturally. There’s not much going on here. There are many seemingly empty storefronts. But the local liquor store seems to stay afloat. Like many towns in the area, it sports a couple of dilapidated 19th century mills that mingle with modest homes and tenement houses in varying stages of disrepair.
But as unassuming and downtrodden as Three Rivers is, there is still something magical about it. I mean, come on—the place has three rivers in it! (Four, if you count the Swift.) And it’s somebody’s hometown, so it must be special. I’ll bet there are many people living here who actively appreciate the lack of culture and hubbub.
A few miles downstream the Chicopee River flows into the Connecticut River, which eventually flows on into the Atlantic Ocean. The Atlantic Ocean evaporates, and it rains in Three Rivers. The cycle repeats. It’s all one water, really.
In May we had an opportunity to visit family in Independence, Missouri (a lovely place, and the hometown of President Harry S. Truman). There were plenty of sights to see and things to do around town (“the Square”—#lovethesquare), but on one of our days we drove west for two hours to Strong City, Kansas.
There, we took a tour of the Tallgrass Prairie National Preserve. Our guide told us that we might see some American bison (a.k.a., buffalo) roaming around. As our schoolbus-style tour bus crested a hill, we were treated to this surprise. A twenty-five-mile view and a herd of more than two dozen bison lolling around in the Kansas sun.
The prairie is awe-inspiring—thank goodness for the National Park Service for protecting this swath of it. If you have an inclination or an opportunity to check it out, I recommend it.
We took a nice day trip up to Brattleboro, Vermont for lunch and some sightseeing.
We walked down to the bridge that crosses over the Connecticut River into New Hampshire. In fact, technically we were in New Hampshire when I took this photo. I had set up to take a nice landscape shot with my iCamera. I heard a boat motoring upstream under the bridge, and my initial instinct was to take a photo before the boat came into my field of view and disrupted the natural scene.
But when I heard the boat sound its old-timey steam whistle, I thought that it might be a quaint addition to the composition. And it was—how fortuitious! I waited until the boat reached a perfect position in the scene (near an intersection of thirds, naturally), and took the photo.
I lightly edited this shot in Luminar (which I’ve been loving lately), to unify and balance the light, bring out some of the color and subtlety, and to impart a bit of a magical, film-like look.
This was an interesting year in terms of weather. Winter wasn’t particularly harsh, and there wasn’t as much snow as there had been in previous years.
But April was brutal and damp. People seemed to be ready for spring, but Mother Nature had a different plan. Just as we were beginning to dust off our bicycles, hiking shoes, and gardening tools, multiple snow squalls and chilly temperatures sent us scrambling back to our cozy indoors.
On the bright side, we were treated to beautiful views—dramatic, darkened skies punctuated by glimpses of much-craved sunshine.
But that was April. Now it’s May, and springtime is here.
There’s a lot that can be said about the year 2017. I prefer to focus on the positive, and it’s easier for me to do so through images than words. So here’s a gallery of photos I took in 2017. Many of these images I’ve already posted on Facebook or Instagram, but it’s nice to have them all together here in a commercial-free environment. I hope you enjoy them.
Recently, for personal enrichment, I completed an online photography course taught by the legendary artist Annie Leibovitz. I am enjoying learning more about photographing people, and I’m looking forward to taking my photography to a new level in 2018.
Interested in purchasing prints or a license to republish any of these photos? Get in touch.
My newest painting portrays Mt. Tom, as seen from the Fort Hill section of Easthampton, Massachusetts. Early summer corn grows in the foreground.
A friend of mine was looking for some art to hang on the wall of his new office, so I obliged. I produced this 44 by 55 inch acrylic-on-canvas painting in one month. I also built a custom frame from select pine, and painted it a deep “espresso” color.
In years past, I might have taken several months to complete a work of this size. This time, I was thankful for the tight deadline, and the opportunity to try a new approach to getting work done more efficiently.
A few years ago I set about to make a series of hand-painted canvas tote bags. I ordered a couple dozen plain canvas bags online. I drew up a simple, happy, graphic image that seemed like it would be easy to reproduce. I cut out a paper stencil so that I could transfer the drawing consistently from bag to bag. I cleared all the flat surfaces in my studio. Then I got busy making the acrylic paintings.
My original intention had been to put these on Etsy, sell a bunch of them, and fund my next art project. But they languished in my Etsy shop, and I never sold a single one. I ended up giving most of the bags away to friends and family members, and of course I’ve kept a couple for my own use. I may have one or two left; if you want one, please get in touch.
The photo gallery below shows the process I devised to make the paintings. Instead of painting each bag’s image from start to finish, I used the mass-production approach: I performed each step on all of the bags before proceeding to the next step. So for example, first I painted a rectangle of white primer (gesso) onto each of the bags and let it dry. Then I stenciled my sketch onto each of the bags. Then I painted the blue sky onto each of the bags. And so on. The later detail steps were a bit more improvisational, so there are minor differences among the paintings that hopefully add some character.
I exhibited some of my photographs at Mt. Tom’s Homemade Ice Cream in Easthampton, Massachusetts, October 8th through November 11th, 2016. There was an opening reception on Saturday, October 8th (as part of Easthampton’s monthly Art Walk). I loved seeing you there!
I like to take photos involving outdoor scenes, trees, water, earth, and sculpted clouds. These days I share a lot of my work online, but it has been a while since I’ve shown the physical artifacts of the process. When my friend and fellow artist Jim Ingram asked me if I’d like to show my work at his ice cream shop, I said yes.
Originally I was going to show paintings. I’ve made a few of those over the past couple of years, but not enough to fill a whole show. Later, I thought that I might show a mix of a few paintings and a few prints. But after reviewing my whole available body of work, I decided to narrow the focus to one medium, and stick to photos. I’m glad I did, because in this case it made for a more cohesive show. The prints for this show were all either 12 by 12-inch squares, or 11 by 14-inch rectangles.
Please enjoy the gallery above, which offers a glimpse of the photos that were in the show. Please get in touch if you’d like to buy one. Soon I will be listing them in my Etsy shop.