It is the worst of times and the best of times, (thanks Chuck).  A time to regret the old year and experience hope for the new year.  In the U.S.A. we will likely watch the Tiffany (!  I just found that out and can you fecking believe it)? ball drop in Times Square.  Or the enormous "Peep" somewhere else in this great land.

Writers will try to sum up the year, with lists, points and endless "I told you so!", etc.  Critics will make their best and worst lists.  The musicians have already cashed in over the holidays, so are free to booze it up, or make appearances at Industry parties.  Perhaps only painters and other visual artists are excused this annual feeding frenzy.  Theirs is private communion between their hearts, minds, souls and their medium.

It is constant like the tides of the sea, the light of the day and the turning of the seasons.  All continue regardless, ebbing and flowing, fading and lighting, dying and returning.  We who are given the gift of expression must obey only one rule.   To use it to the best of our ability.

In that I have been remiss.  I have written rather than paint.  I would like to embrace both in the future.  Starting now.  I'm off to work on my self-portrait.  In a bit.  I just found some lovely things to watch, when I was pootling around for links.