Beauty of companship however one should find it is truly a blessing, one of the greatest gifts one could find! May the union of love find you in so many ways... I like the painting on the shore but there all lovely in there know way tells a story of the heart ,longing, stillness,peace within tears...
Susan - absolutely love the idea of focusing on a particular artist. I have zero artistic ability and reading this beautiful story inspired me to keep trying.
His paintings have a way of reaching deep inside of me and blessing me with tender thoughts of my trusted beagle, Topper. I don't know how it happens, but I am comforted by wonderful memories at the exact same time that I ache deeply and miss him terribly. His art was honest and it shows by the emotions he draws out from those who stop and let it touch our hearts.
What a stunning tribute, Susan. I’m so grateful to be learning about artists I might never have discovered without you. And how blessed you are—to have made such sacred pilgrimages with your father and sister.
As for the calling that found us later in life: I spent my early years as a child actress and couldn’t imagine doing anything else for the rest of my days.
And yet, at 42, a wholly unexpected vocation arrived disguised as a hopeless infertility diagnosis. After defying the medical dogma of the day, fertility education and advocacy became the work of my life.
Now, I’m extending the tools and philosophy I developed with women yearning for a child to peace-building—and to nurturing fertility in the deepest, broadest sense of that word.
Though I couldn’t have imagined this path, it feels as though every poem I memorized, every book I read, every teacher who shaped me was quietly preparing me for it.
As if Life itself—a teacher who knew me better than I knew myself—handed me the perfect assignment in the form of that fateful lab report at 42.
Thank you, as always, Susan, for the chance to share.
Thank you so much for this. I especially love your sharing about your travels in England and visiting bookstores. I'm off to England next month and part of my time will be spent searching out bookstores and writing about them. Hatchard's and Blackwell's are on my list as well as little indies tucked in corners and down side streets. My "job" or rather vocation is selling books in a bookstore that is a church ministry as well as an independent bookstore. The older I get (I'm 73) the deeper I'm called into "reading and writing a life". Grateful for places like this that feel safe.
In the past few years, while battling (and defeating) my own illness, I fell into writing a story that I am now driven to finish. There is an impatience that arises in me, pursuing what certainly feels like the object of my life's work. It's exhilarating to be so focused, yet I have a terror that percolates under the surface of not finishing in time. I'm not sure if this is a hold over from being ill for so long, or because the story is deeply intertwined with death. I just know it must be done, because it all feels so very meaningful.
Bunt's paintings call to that place in me. The looking to the distance, walking or cycling without a clear indication of when he will arrive. All done in the company of a beloved animal. It reminds me that the process, the yearning, and the simply existing is not to be forgotten, and ultimately, is more important than the destination. I write this as my animal best friend, a little red tabby who has also battled grave illness, sits behind my head. Ever my traveling companion.
Susan, I enjoy everything you share in The Quiet Life, and when you profile an artist’s creations I am delighted. Gary Bunt’s creations have me imagining walking along those paths with him and enjoying the quiet and beauty of it all. Please continue sharing such tributes/profiles with us. Thanks so much.
They are very whimsical, so I can’t even see Whatever Life Brings as being melancholy - my eyes are just constantly drawn to the light on the timber and the pebbles.
Susan, thank you once again for spoiling us with a new creative to admire.
I do love the Riverbank ... the single cross behind a little gate drew my eye. A marker for a gravesite perhaps, the old man and his dog having just visited. The gravesite sits by itself ... but not above being surrounded by the vibrancy of all nature offers.
I started writing in my 40s ... and still working on the same trilogy 20+ years later. Gentle progress, but time now to finish and to move onto a new set of characters.
Inexplicably sad when I saw the IG post announcing that Gary Bunt had left us. A sense of regret too, that I will not get to see new pieces from the artist which I was so looking forward to. I did not know of Gary Bunt until your post introducing his art and found myself lingering at his website and smiling as I took time to reflect upon each and every piece of artwork featured on his website, immensely grateful. In fact, the joy was so hard to contain that I had to share his work with my loved ones. Thank you Susan for this lovely tribute to the man, I really appreciate it.
Gary Bunt's artworks' fresh poignancy caught my heart too some months ago when you first introduced us to him, Susan. Sad to think there will be no new images of his brave and braw Old Man with Dog, tho' we're grateful for each and all of those he's offered to the world. They're uniquely touching, tugging out something from our hearts' depths with their soft, distinctive bittersweetness.
Our own last dog, literally 'last' since we're beyond romping with a new 'un, was a 'rescue'. Pixel needed to learn to trust again, and learn she did. As a smooth-coated jack russell of the sturdy 'puddin'-jack' type, she looked very like the wee dog in these paintings. Together she and we lived out our jaunty years' fading so companionably: loving chuckles and tender smiles still arise easily, her lasting gift to us. And here it's as if she lives anew, with this lovely Old Man representative of us all. Beautiful, and nourishing!
Please do remind us again of Gary Bunt -- and the quiet strength we find in his art -- going forward? Thanks always for sharing him -- yup, he's forever one of Us.
Beauty of companship however one should find it is truly a blessing, one of the greatest gifts one could find! May the union of love find you in so many ways... I like the painting on the shore but there all lovely in there know way tells a story of the heart ,longing, stillness,peace within tears...
Best yet!! Thank you :)
A lovely piece; such gentle work. The best artists enable us to see ourselves by showing us what is most essential about them.
Susan - absolutely love the idea of focusing on a particular artist. I have zero artistic ability and reading this beautiful story inspired me to keep trying.
His paintings have a way of reaching deep inside of me and blessing me with tender thoughts of my trusted beagle, Topper. I don't know how it happens, but I am comforted by wonderful memories at the exact same time that I ache deeply and miss him terribly. His art was honest and it shows by the emotions he draws out from those who stop and let it touch our hearts.
What a stunning tribute, Susan. I’m so grateful to be learning about artists I might never have discovered without you. And how blessed you are—to have made such sacred pilgrimages with your father and sister.
As for the calling that found us later in life: I spent my early years as a child actress and couldn’t imagine doing anything else for the rest of my days.
And yet, at 42, a wholly unexpected vocation arrived disguised as a hopeless infertility diagnosis. After defying the medical dogma of the day, fertility education and advocacy became the work of my life.
Now, I’m extending the tools and philosophy I developed with women yearning for a child to peace-building—and to nurturing fertility in the deepest, broadest sense of that word.
Though I couldn’t have imagined this path, it feels as though every poem I memorized, every book I read, every teacher who shaped me was quietly preparing me for it.
As if Life itself—a teacher who knew me better than I knew myself—handed me the perfect assignment in the form of that fateful lab report at 42.
Thank you, as always, Susan, for the chance to share.
Thank you so much for this. I especially love your sharing about your travels in England and visiting bookstores. I'm off to England next month and part of my time will be spent searching out bookstores and writing about them. Hatchard's and Blackwell's are on my list as well as little indies tucked in corners and down side streets. My "job" or rather vocation is selling books in a bookstore that is a church ministry as well as an independent bookstore. The older I get (I'm 73) the deeper I'm called into "reading and writing a life". Grateful for places like this that feel safe.
I am grateful for your posts Susan. You bring peace to my soul.
In the past few years, while battling (and defeating) my own illness, I fell into writing a story that I am now driven to finish. There is an impatience that arises in me, pursuing what certainly feels like the object of my life's work. It's exhilarating to be so focused, yet I have a terror that percolates under the surface of not finishing in time. I'm not sure if this is a hold over from being ill for so long, or because the story is deeply intertwined with death. I just know it must be done, because it all feels so very meaningful.
Bunt's paintings call to that place in me. The looking to the distance, walking or cycling without a clear indication of when he will arrive. All done in the company of a beloved animal. It reminds me that the process, the yearning, and the simply existing is not to be forgotten, and ultimately, is more important than the destination. I write this as my animal best friend, a little red tabby who has also battled grave illness, sits behind my head. Ever my traveling companion.
I lift to my creative spirits mid point of a work day. Thank you.
Susan, I enjoy everything you share in The Quiet Life, and when you profile an artist’s creations I am delighted. Gary Bunt’s creations have me imagining walking along those paths with him and enjoying the quiet and beauty of it all. Please continue sharing such tributes/profiles with us. Thanks so much.
They are very whimsical, so I can’t even see Whatever Life Brings as being melancholy - my eyes are just constantly drawn to the light on the timber and the pebbles.
I know what you mean, that’s how I feel too. In fact, that word, whimsical, I think encapsulates what draws me to British art in general.
Susan, thank you once again for spoiling us with a new creative to admire.
I do love the Riverbank ... the single cross behind a little gate drew my eye. A marker for a gravesite perhaps, the old man and his dog having just visited. The gravesite sits by itself ... but not above being surrounded by the vibrancy of all nature offers.
I started writing in my 40s ... and still working on the same trilogy 20+ years later. Gentle progress, but time now to finish and to move onto a new set of characters.
Big love, Susan. x
Inexplicably sad when I saw the IG post announcing that Gary Bunt had left us. A sense of regret too, that I will not get to see new pieces from the artist which I was so looking forward to. I did not know of Gary Bunt until your post introducing his art and found myself lingering at his website and smiling as I took time to reflect upon each and every piece of artwork featured on his website, immensely grateful. In fact, the joy was so hard to contain that I had to share his work with my loved ones. Thank you Susan for this lovely tribute to the man, I really appreciate it.
Gary Bunt's artworks' fresh poignancy caught my heart too some months ago when you first introduced us to him, Susan. Sad to think there will be no new images of his brave and braw Old Man with Dog, tho' we're grateful for each and all of those he's offered to the world. They're uniquely touching, tugging out something from our hearts' depths with their soft, distinctive bittersweetness.
Our own last dog, literally 'last' since we're beyond romping with a new 'un, was a 'rescue'. Pixel needed to learn to trust again, and learn she did. As a smooth-coated jack russell of the sturdy 'puddin'-jack' type, she looked very like the wee dog in these paintings. Together she and we lived out our jaunty years' fading so companionably: loving chuckles and tender smiles still arise easily, her lasting gift to us. And here it's as if she lives anew, with this lovely Old Man representative of us all. Beautiful, and nourishing!
Please do remind us again of Gary Bunt -- and the quiet strength we find in his art -- going forward? Thanks always for sharing him -- yup, he's forever one of Us.
Loved this tribute, loved the paintings, and loved the feeling of love I feel after reading most of your QLLetters. You just speak to me.
And please continue your artist profiles!