PICTURES FROM INSIDE MY MIND ARE SURFACING AS TIME GOES BY. WILL IT MATTER ONE-HUNDRED YEARS FROM NOW IF I POSTED THIS WATERCOLOR OR SKETCH ON THIS SPACE TODAY? I DON'T KNOW. WHAT MATTERS NOW IS THAT I FEEL LIKE POSTING THESE IMAGES TODAY. HOPEFULLY, YOU WILL ENJOY THEM.
AN ESSAY ON AND ABOUT PERFECT PICTURES AND FAME AS AN ARTIST BY Robert L. Huffstutter
There is an image in my mind much like the one in the slide of a bygone Yokohama.
IT WAS THE DOOR THAT WAS
THERE IS WITHIN THE MIND OF ARTISTS A VARIETY OF THOUGHTS THAT TRAVEL UP AND DOWN THE SPINE, EACH ONE A PASSION OF SOME KIND, EITHER ONE REMEMBERED OR ONE JUST FOUND. HOW MANY TIMES HAVE ARTISTS EMBRACED ROMANCE FOR A FINAL TIME TO FIND THAT THE ROMANCE WAS NOT THE TRANSIENT TYPE BUT ONE THAT WAS MEANT TO LAST A LIFETIME. 
THROUGH THE FENCE I SEE MORE ELECTRICITY THAN I CAN UNDERSTAND. AT FIRST GLANCE, IT MIGHT BE A BIT CONFUSING. NOT MIGHT, IT IS CONFUSING. LIFE ITSELF IS CONFUSING. BUT THAT IS ONLY MY OPINION. FOR THOSE WHO ARE NOT CURIOUS ABOUT ENERGY, LIFE IS SIMPLE AND EASY. OF COURSE, IF THEY TOUCHED ONE OR TWO OF THOSE ELEMENTS BEHIND THE FENCE, LIFE WOULD CEASE TO BE SIMPLE AND EASY, NOR WOULD THEY BE TROUBLED OR CURIOUS ABOUT ENERGY. NO THEY WOULD, MOST CERTAINLY FIND OUT ABOUT ENERGY FIRST HAND. 
THERE IS THAT POETRY OF FIRE AND FLAME THAT WRAPS ITSELF AROUND THE ANKLES OF THOSE WHO STAND ON BURNING EMBERS OF PASSION, BURNING AND ON FIRE, HOPING FOR THE DESIRES TO SATISFY EVERY FANCY UNDERFOOT, THEN AGAIN, AS TIME HAS PAST, THERE IS ANOTHER POEM THAT MUST BE HEARD, MUST BE SHOUTED AND REPEATED FROM HEAD TO TOE, ABOUT A LOVE SO TRUE ONE LOST ALL SENSE OF SIMPLE REALITY, ALL SENSE OF SANITY, ALL NAMES AND PLACES KIND OF MENTALITY, ALL SENSE OF THAT WHICH IS WHAT LIFE WAS AND IS NO MORE, A GLOWING REMINDER OF WHAT WAS, WHAT IS AND WHAT WOULD BE NO MORE...
THAT OLD BIG BANG THEORY, IT GROWS SO OLD AS TIME GOES BY IT WILL SOME DAY, SURELY, EXPLODE INTO A BANG THAT'S BIGGER THAN THE INITIAL ONE. BUT WHO AM I TO CRITICIZE OR POINT MY FINGER TOWARD SHAME OR ANY NAME OR NAMES AFFILIATED WITH THAT OLD EXPLOSIVE SUBJECT MATTER. A BANG'S A BANG, BY ANY STANDARD, WEIGHT OR MEASURE, AND IT'S ONLY A BIT OF MISGUIDED SEMANTICS THAT HAS CAUSED THE THEORY TO BE SLAPPED SILLY FROM ONE SIDE OF THE UNIVERSE INTO ANOTHER. AND THAT'S OKAY, I SUPPOSE. WHO KNOWS FOR SURE, ONE HUNDRED PERCENT HOW FAR THAT THEORY FLEW ONCE IT WAS LET LOOSE? AN INCH? A MILE OR BILLIONS OF LIGHT YEARS? 
WHEN LIFE BECOMES A MAZE, TOO COMPLEX TO FIND ANYTHING THAT WORKS JUST RIGHT, IT MIGHT BE TIME TO SELL THE ODD REMOTES AND ALL THE WEIRD AND FOREVER BLINKING LCD THINGS THAT CHEAT US OF A NORMAL SIMPLE SWITCH AND FLIP KIND OF LIFE BUT KEEP THE BATTERIES JUST IN CASE THERE MIGHT BE A CHANGE OF MIND SOMEDAY, SOMEDAY, SOMEDAY, JUST A CHANGE OF MIND, JUST A CHANGE OF, JUST A CHANGE, JUST A CHANGE, SOMEDAY, KEEP THE, JUST A CHEAT, NORMAL KEEP THE CHANGE, SOMEDAY, SOMEDAY, BATTERIES, BATTERIES, BATTERIES, JUST, A SOMEDAY, SOMEDAY, SOMEDAY, IN CASE, SOMEDAY, JUST
THERE IS A DIVISION DEEP DOWN IN MY SOUL AND UP INSIDE MY BRAIN; IT'S ALL ABOUT COLORS AND LINES, SHADOWS AND LIGHT, DISTANCE AND CLOSE-UP SCENES. IT'S ALL ABOUT ART, AN EMOTIONAL PART OF MY MIND AND SOUL THAT HAS KEPT ME DREAMING FOR YEARS OF THE TIME WHEN I WOULD HAVE TIME TO PAINT THIS AND THAT, TIME TO TAKE PHOTOS OF THIS AND THAT. IN DUE TIME, THE BIBLE WILL BE READ AGAIN. IT IS THERE AND I SEE IT; I FEEL IT CALLING ME TO OPEN THE PAGES. WHY? I DON'T HAVE THE ANSWER TO HOW TO MAKE THE WORLD A SAFER AND MORE PEACEFUL PLACE AND I WONDER IF I COULD HAVE? HOW MANY WONDER ABOUT WHAT THEY MIGHT HAVE DONE? PRAISE GOD FOR THIS LIFE. WHERE WOULD I HAVE BEEN IF I HAD NEVER BEEN BORN? THAT IS ANOTHER QUESTION THAT MAKES ME IRRITABLE. DO I FEEL I SHOULD KNOW ALL? NOT REALLY, BUT MORE ABOUT LIFE...THAN I DO. WOULD I HAVE CHANGED A DAY IF I KNEW THEN WHAT I KNOW NOW? WHO CAN ANSWER SUCH A QUESTION. WE KNOW THAT SUCH A CHOICE WOULD HAVE PREVENTED THE GENERATIONS TO FOLLOW GENERATIONS. DID GOD KNOW THIS ALL ALONG, LONG BEFORE THE WORLD WAS MADE? HOW FAR BACK CAN WE KNOW THAT GOD WAS? IF WE CAN THINK THAT FAR BACK, THEN HE WAS. AND WHAT WILL WE BE DOING AFTER THIS LIFE? THAT IS A QUESTION MOST PEOPLE NEVER ASK THEMSELVES WITH THEIR EYES CLOSED IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT UNTIL THEY GET OLD ENOUGH TO KNOW THAT IMMORTALITY DOES NOT EXIST FOR US UNTIL SOMETIME AND IN SOME OTHER PLACE. 
THERE IS A MASTERPIECE, AN OIL ON CANVAS KIND OF PAINTING THAT WILL LINGER ON IN ONE'S MIND IF THEY WILL LET IT--IT'S THAT KIND OF ART. SCREAM AND SHOUT AND RUN AWAY, THE MUNCHKIN IN THE PICTURE WON'T GO AWAY, THE MUNCHKIN IS SAFE AND SOUND SOMEWHERE IN NORWAY.
EXPLAINING HOW IMAGES OF COMPLEX BEAUTY CAN BE CAPTURED AND TURNED INTO A PHOTOGRAPH IS NOT A SIMPLE TASK FOR ME; ANY QUESTIONS OR EXPLANATIONS I MIGHT BE ASKED TO ANSWER OR ILLUSTRATE MIGHT STRESS MY TECHNICAL ABILITIES BEYOND REPAIR. IF I CANNOT REMEMBER ALL THE ELEMENTS AND T
THESE OLD BOATS WERE FROM AN ERA LONG BEFORE THE WAR WAS OVER OR BEGAN. THEY WERE AN ODD SIGHT, NOT REALLY FISHING BOATS, BUT MORE LIKE HARBOR TUGS OF SORTS, THE KIND THAT LEAD, TOW AND GUIDE LARGE SHIPS JUST LAUNCHED TO THE CHANNEL DEEP SO THEY COULD GO TO FARAWAY AND DISTANT BASES, PLACES WITH DUTCH NAMES. THE FLAG FLYING THEN MUCH DIFFERENT THAN THE ONE ABOVE THEIR MEGA VESSELS OF THIS TIME AND PLACE
HAVE YOU EVER HAD A MOMENT WHEN YOU KNEW YOU WERE WATCHING A TIME FRAME THAT YOU WOULD RECALL TIME AND AGAIN? THOUGH AT THE TIME, THERE MIGHT NOT HAVE BEEN ANYTHING SPECIFIC THAT WAS AKIN TO A THUNDEROUS AWAKENING OR AN ENLIGHTENMENT FROM ON HIGH? IF YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN YOU'LL UNDERSTAND WHY ON A CERTAIN SATURDAY NIGHT ALMOST FIFTY YEARS AGO I STOOD ALONE ON A YOKOHAMA STREET, A BRICK STREET NEAR THE BUND AND SAW THE STREETCARS OF YOKOHAMA SPEEDING THROUGH THE JAPANESE NIGHT, LEAVING THE PAST BEHIND, SPARKS FLASHING ON THE LATTICE WORK OF ELECTRIC WIRES ABOVE THE BRICKS, THE FACES OF A THOUSAND JAPANESE SEEN THROUGH THE WINDOWS, SPEEDING ON TOWARD THE FUTURE, LEAVING THE PAST BEHIND. I WATCHED AND WAITED, I LISTENED TO THE SOUND OF HISTORY IN MY MIND, THEY WERE ALL AROUND ME, IN THE OLD BUILDINGS FROM TURN OF THE CENTURY; THERE WERE THE EMBASSIES IN EMBASSY ROW, QUIET AND ASLEEP, THE SMELL OF CURRY RICE, THE ECHO OF THE CLICKING ABOVE THE BRICK, THE SPARKS FLASHING, CLATTERING, THE HOLLOW SOUNDS OF A NIGHT THAT ENDED BEFORE IT BEGAN. ALONE THEN FOR A FEW MORE MONTHS THEN ALL WOULD CHANGE FOR FIFTEEN MONTHS THEN CHANGE AGAIN FOR A LIFETIME. TIME LINES, SOME PLACES IN TIME WE REMEMBER BECAUSE OF REASONS YET TO BE EXPLAINED UNTIL YEARS LATER WHEN ALL IS VERY CLEAR, EVEN THE SOUNDS THE STREETCARS OF YOKOHAMA MAKE AFTER NEARLY FIFTY YEARS.
WHAT WAS THEN WILL NEVER BE AGAIN. SUCH IS LIFE AS IT WAS MEANT TO BE BECAUSE TIME CANNOT BE STOPPED. THE TONS OF CONCRETE REVOLVING LIKE THE EARTH ON ITS AXIS, THE BIG TRUCK DUMPED IT ON THE SHORE, THE BEACH AND OVER OLD PIER PARTS, OLD FOUNDATIONS WHERE SPAGHETTI RESTAURANTS AND KOSHER MARKETS WERE SIDE BY SIDE, OLD WORLD CONVERSATIONS ON OLD BENCHES, ON OLD FOUNDATIONS, OLD PIERS WHERE SPAGHETTI RESTAURANTS AND KOSHER MARKETS WERE BEGUN BY OLD WORLD IMMIGRANTS. IN TIME THE OLD WORLD LANGUAGES, CAFES AND MARKETS WERE GONE, DISAPPEARED ALONG THE BEACH TOWNS FROM SANTA MONICA AND VENICE TO MANHATTAN BEACH, REDONDO BEACH AND HERMOSA BEACH, ALL THE LITTLE SOUTH BAY CITIES THAT SURRENDERED TO THE CONCRETE COMPANIES, REAL ESTATE SCHEMES AND OTHER CITY LAWS UNWRAPPED OR TOSSED INTO THE DEEP BEYOND THE SHELF. IT WAS OVER; IT HAD BEEN KIND OF LIKE THE GOLDEN AGE OF THE BEACH CITIES. THEY ARE GONE NOW AND ARE REMEMBERED BY NAMES ONLY BY A FEW ARTISTS AND BARTENDERS, A FEW GROCERS AND SHOPKEEPERS, A FEW WRINKLED AND CRINKLED SURFERS, A GENERATION OF BABES ALMOST GONE NOW. YOUR RELATIVES AND MINE LOST IN TIME. THOSE PIN-UP LADIES WHO FIRST WORE THE BIKINIS OF THE 50S, THE HOT BLONDE AUNTS. AND HARRY THE LIQUOR STORE OWNER GRINS, STILL SMOKING HIS CIGAR, SOMEWHERE. IT WAS A DIFFERENT KIND OF SUNSHINE THEN.
I WOULD LIKE TO BE BACK ON THE RIVER AGAIN, IF ONLY FOR JUST ONE MORE TIME, AWAY FROM THE CONCRETE WORLD OF COMMERCE AND CIVIC AFFAIRS, AWAY FROM THE TRAFFIC LIGHTS AND BLANK STARES OF PASSERSBY MET ALONG THE SIDEWALKS, AWAY FROM THE SIRENS AND PANIC ATTACKS OF ANCHOR MEN AND WOMEN LYING TO MY CHILDREN TIME AND AGAIN, AWAY FROM THE LEAD-PAINTED TOYS SENT TO SABATOGE A GENERATION'S MIND AND BODY, AWAY, AWAY, BACK ON THE RIVER WHERE MY MIND TRAVELED AT ANOTHER TIME, BACK ON THE RIVER, DOWNSTREAM THIS TIME, BACK ON THE RIVER AND DOWN TO NEW ORLEANS BEFORE IT WAS SOMETHING IT BECAME MORE THAN WHAT IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN, MORE THAN WHAT IT WAS PLANNED TO BE...
SOONER OR LATER I WILL FIND OUT WHAT MAKES A GOOD RUG GREAT OR THE REASONS WHY SOME RUGS ARE SOLD THE FIRST DAY THEY ARE DISPLAYED AT THE STATION WHERE THE AMTRACK STOPS TWICE A DAY. ONCE EAST AND ONCE WEST, IT'S BETTER HEADING WEST, THE RUGS SEEN ON THE WESTERN JOURNEY SEEM BEST, AT LEAST TO ME, BUT NONE ARE AS GOOD AS THEY WERE WHEN IT WAS THE SANTA FE INSTEAD OF AMTRACK THAT STOPPED LONG ENOUGH TO FIND THE BEST TURQUOISE RING FOR THE PRICE. BUT HOW CAN A RING, OR A RUG, OR ANYTHING, REALLY, BE JUDGED BY THE PRICE? SURE, I COULD SAY IT WAS ALL RELEVANT; THAT'S THE ANSWER I RECALL GETTING ANYTIME I HAD A QUESTION THE PROFESSOR COULDN'T ANSWER. THAT WAS SO LONG AGO, LIKE THE TRAIN CALLED THE SANTA FE. THE TIME WILL COME WHEN THE LAST PASSENGER THAT RODE THE SANTA FE WILL BE DEAD AND GONE. THE PROFESSORS TOO. GONE? GONE WHERE? LET SIMPLY SAY DEAD AND LEAVE THE WHEREABOUTS ALONE. IF I COULD ANSWER WHERE THEY WENT I WOULD KNOW PRECISELY THE DIFFERENCES BETWEEN RUGS AND RINGS AND WHAT IT IS THAT MAKES IT SO. ONE WOULD THINK WE WOULD KNOW BY NOW, CONSIDERING HOW MUCH MORE WE KNOW THAN OUR GREAT AUNTS AND UNCLES KNEW. BUT WHAT ABOUT THE INDIANS WHO MADE THE RUGS AND RINGS? ARTISTS ARE THE LAST TO RECEIVE THE RECOGNITION AND ACCOLADES
IF THAT ISN'T THE MOST MORONIC QUESTION I'VE EVER ASKED IN QUEST TO BE LITERARY IN MY OWN UNIQUE WAY I DON'T KNOW WHAT ELSE TO SAY. BEST TO LEAVE OLD HOTELS ALONE, THE CHARM IS LONG GONE, THE TENANTS WHO KNEW ANYTHING WORTH SHARING LONG DEAD, SO WHAT ELSE MATTERS? SURE THE NAME MIGHT SEEM ROMANTIC FOR ANYONE WHO STOPPED IN WYOMING AND 
That old home back in the woods was there for years and I took it for granted that it would be there forever so I never missed it, really, just looked at it in every season and felt good because I knew it belonged to a widow lady up in age who no longer gardened but sat beside the big west window and watched the world change the way it has, the wars won, the war lost in 1972, the others tied, the thousands who died for no reasons like a Pearl Harbor kind of war. There was the two gold stars in the west window; they finally dimmed, even in the sunsets they stop reflecting. There was the gold someone said she had since her husband died and where she kept it nobody knew and there were other things said about the woman who sat beside that west window keeping her own notes on neighborhood payments to keep lights on,and those writing letters to old friends before they died, before the internet made ballpoint pens obsolete. Somebody said her sons were killed by snipers, the eldest while reading a letter from his girlfriend beneath a palm tree somewhere in some south seas islands called the Solomons, Tulagi was its name.The other son,the second son,the younger of the two, died from a single sniper bullet that struck him right between his eyes. Killed in the Philippines where he was arming Hucks with 45s,though they far preferred their machetes for close-up and hand-to-hand and just killing, killing, killing. Yes,alive until a single bullet hit him right between his eyes. The body never came back. Purple Hearts were delivered by two tall Marines, so they say. That old home was not always in the woods I've heard. There was a street with lanes and the water mains were in with plans for a suburban project planned, then she backed out time and again,so many times the city finally left her alone considering her grief and everything. That house is gone now; it's been gone for nearly ten years. I know she must have died back then, nearly one hundred years old I'm told and I know that's right because I've done the math on things and times like life and death so many times before.
