The Magic of Old Knives and Calling Turkeys
“What they call you is one thing. What you answer to is something else.” - Lucille Clifton
This knife used to belong to my grandfather. I think of him when I see this knife. It was made in Bradford, Pennsylvania. I’ll be honest, as a writer and videographer, I don’t need such a large clasp knife that often. But when I see it, I think of my grandfather and what he taught me. Not what he taught me directly so much, but when I see this knife I think of what I learned from him by being around him. And so when I see this knife, this small object imbued with the magic of memory, that frees me from time and space, I hear the cicadas of a summer forest in Arkansas. The sound of late night 18 wheelers on their way through. The smoky smell of the wood-burning stove. The smell of a pipe. A man calling turkeys from the porch of a house he built. These memories help me to be who I am.
These Things inspired me recently:
“A Black Rift Begins to Yawn” - Feature film by Matthew Wade premieres Friday, Feb. 12 via the Slamdance Film Festival. I really dig Matt’s work and I’m super excited to see this film. Plus, the festival runs Feb. 12 - 25, 2021, is mostly virtual (watch when you want), and is only $10!
From the Slamdance website: As two former classmates dig into their deceased professor’s set of cassette tapes, which possibly contain recordings of strange signals from beyond the stars, they begin to feel memories, the chronology of time, and their identities slip into obscurity.I love watching the trails and mountain bike rider Danny MacAskill but I’ll be honest, this video of him riding “The Slabs” in Scotland was difficult to watch. So steep. And no room for mistakes. This is a first for me with bicycling videos. And here’s how they shot it.
Jono Lancaster has Treacher Collins Syndrome. He was abandoned by his parents because of the way he looks and this is one of the most inspiring stories I’ve heard in a long time. Must see.
I’ve been wrestling some sort of pandemic malaise and then got this message from Vincent van Gogh on taking action:
I tell you, if one wants to be active, one mustn’t be afraid to do something wrong sometimes, not afraid to lapse into some mistakes. To be good — many people think that they’ll achieve it by doing no harm — and that’s a lie, and you said yourself in the past that it was a lie. That leads to stagnation, to mediocrity…
You don’t know how paralyzing it is, that stare from a blank canvas that says to the painter, "You can’t do anything." The canvas has an idiotic stare, and mesmerizes some painters so that they turn into idiots themselves. Many painters are afraid of the blank canvas, but the blank canvas is afraid of the truly passionate painter who dares — and who has once broken the spell of "You can’t."
Life itself likewise always turns towards one an infinitely meaningless, discouraging, dispiriting blank side on which there is nothing, any more than on a blank canvas. But however meaningless and vain, however dead life appears, the man of faith, of energy, of warmth, and who knows something, doesn’t let himself be fobbed off like that. He steps in and does something..."