Aim 🏹
“For me, if there’s a problem in the hand, it’s very often in the elbow.”
—Thomas Vinterberg #
Color is vital to me. Color makes me feel alive—to the extant that I sometimes wonder if I resonate on the same wavelength as some of my favorite colors.
I have never studied the color wheel properly and have only looked with incomprehension at theories of color. I have tried to read books on color, but find that the combination of physics and art can be deadly to what I like to think of as one of life’s greatest free pleasures. […]
I have to admit to loving bright colors. I don’t mean simply garish and gaudy, I mean deep, rich colors that are full of themselves and not a washed-out apology for a shade: the bright colors of nature, the rich hues of textiles, the incandescent tones of colorful paintings. […] I make sure that I can see wonderful colors every day by painting the walls of our rooms in emerald greens, sunflower yellows, brilliant turquoises and fiery reds, and by throwing the quilts and blankets I have made over furniture and on beds where they can be used and enjoyed all the time.
—Jane Brocket, The Gentle Art of Domesticity
Last week I
worked at my job
found an aim for college and career
started working toward it
realized as a full-time student I will not be able to take a week off school in the middle of October to make a short film
spent the rest of the week figuring out if I can make this short film happen in August instead (only if it is meant to be)
golden hour walks under trees past flowers and backyard vegetable gardens
was tired with tired people, but was with them
witnessed a sandbox recreation of the Battle of Normandy 🧨
The time I usually use to compile this newsletter was spent writing lists about the short film in a leatherbound notebook.
When I use the word aim I imagine a woodsman drawing back his bowstring in the forest to send a secret whistle message in Walt Disney’s 1952 live-action movie The Story of Robin Hood and His Merrie Men.
It is just about the best movie ever made.
3 Things from This Week:
Requiem in a World-Wood ~ essay by Anna Hatke
Quote: 🏹📜🌻
“How Helen would revel in such a notion! Charles dead, all people dead, nothing alive but houses and gardens. The obvious dead, the intangible alive, and—no connection at all between them! Margaret smiled. Would that her own fancies were as clear cut! Would that she could deal as high-handedly with the world! Smiling and sighing, she laid her hand upon the door. It opened. The house was not locked up at all …
The garden at the back was full of flowering cherries and plums. Father on were hints of the meadow and a black cliff of pines. Yes, the meadow was beautiful.
Penned in by desolate weather, she recaptured the sense of space which the motor had tried to rob from her. She remembered that ten square miles are not ten times as wonderful as one square mile, that a thousand square miles are not practically heaven. The phantom of bigness … was laid forever when she paced from the hall at Howards End to its kitchen and heard the rains run this way and that where the watershed of the roof divided them.”
—E. M. Forster, Howards End