Thursday, November 8, 2007

"Eye Of The Hunter" 11x15 Ink/Colored Pencil On Paper

There is no greater hunter than the Bald Eagle. His eye sight is so clear, he can see beneath the murky waters to find his prey. Though to water lies to him, and distorts the position of his prey, he is not fooled! With the speed and accuracy of a falling star he dives, and clutches his meal in talons of steel. On wings stronger than any other birds, he climbs the wind, high into the sky. He flies to his mountain top home in the rocks,where his domain is, to feed his young.

The man was born with a speech impediment, which in our society would cause him to be shunned, and his opportunities, limited. However, he was born to the Blue Sky people, the Arapaho People. Here his differences were seen as a touch from the Great Mystery, and he was special!
He grew strong and agile in the wilderness that surrounded him. In his solitude he learned many things about his way of life. He would never dance his coup among the council as the young warriors did. He would not wear the headress of the principle chief of the people. In fact he would not decorate himself with anything that would cause him to be looked upon with awe.
He was accustomed to the shadows, the quiet of his world. He clould hear the smallest sound, his eyes could see the slightest movement. Who could question the bravery of the man who would ride among the raging, swirling masses of Buffalo. Who could ask more courage of the man who would challenge the Great Grizzly Bear, and take his heart, and his warm coat!
This man did not need to speak of his bravery, he was a Hunter, he provided clothing, food, and shelter to his people.
His only enemy was time. Time took his left eye, time took the strength from his legs, time took his youth.
Even in his old age, the young ones would come to him to find the great herds, or to ask how to take the feathers from the Great Eagle for their hair.

Even in his old age he was Honored among his people !
Jim Johnson

Wednesday, September 5, 2007

Manuelito's Story

In 1998 in Southern Mexico and Central America, there were terrible storms, that brought dangerous mudslides. Thousands lost their lives and most were never found.
In the News Broadcasts I saw an image of a man that was seared into my memory, this is not an accurate image of that man but it is the one that has remained in my mind.
A man, standing alone, shaking, unspeaking, arms folded in defiance of the fact that he has lost his whole family to these storms. The weariness showing in his face, the un-stoppable tears, the wind blowing his hair and beard, eyes that are empty, and lost, only fear showing, the lines of horror etched forever into his face, mud caked on his body and clothes. Lets remember to keep these in our prayers, they are not lost, but life has crushed them down.
God Bless
Jim

Detail of Manuelito's Face

"Manuelito" 16x20 Oil on Canvas