Where I live it’s very neutral, bare and, what some might call, dismal.

I would rather refer to it as quietly beautiful.

Even though we seldom see the extravagant beauty of a blanket of freshly fallen snow here in Tennessee, I am still comforted by the quiet elegance that winter holds.

It’s the season that is simple and subtle. Not much show.

There is something a bit vulnerable and honest.

It’s a contemplative season.

All is at rest. And while it is resting, we are able to see inside to what’s normally covered with the abundance of growth and activity.

The incredible handiwork of God is further revealed.

Just like no two types of trees grow the same leaves, no two types of trees grow their branches in the same formation.

And when the trees are bear, the intricacy of these patterns is beautifully displayed against the grey skies of winter.

Mesmerizing.

I don’t tend to add color in my yard December through February – I just let the season be what it is meant to be. And then I discover its beauty.

I wonder if we were forced to be quiet and still, shed the distraction of our busyness, what others might see.

Just maybe…

To our surprise…

It might be something beautiful.

I love how sensitive Paul’s eye is to beauty. Sometimes where you least expect it. He finds beauty in what might appear mundane – especially in nature. He can uncover exquisite color and detail in the ordinary bark of a tree.

Instinctively he took pictures that day – then went on his way.

When he showed me the photos, I was reminded why I love photography. It’s all about seeing. You don’t do photography with your eyes shut.

You look. You see. You observe.

And no two people see any one thing in the exact same way.

So when I looked at Paul’s photos, I was looking through his lens, his perspective. I was seeing the familiar in a fresh, new way.

I think it’s important to live this life looking from many perspectives. It’s important to observe from many angles. It’s important to see what others see. It’s how we learn, how we expand – even if we end up liking our own view better.

And sometimes there is no “better”. It’s simply two different views.

I invite you to view Paul’s photos and see what he saw. Actually, I think he lets you feel what he felt. If you’ve not made it to the barn yet, you’ll see why I love it so much. If you have been already, you can look at it through a new set of eyes.

To see more of what Paul’s eye sees, visit his website.

The tree is down. The ornaments are stored. The lights are unplugged for another year.

Life seems calmer, cleaner and a bit less cluttered. It’s a perfect time for a fresh start.

A fresh start.

Don’t we all desire that?

What lies behind us is littered with regret, poor choices and disappointment.

A fresh start brings a sense of hope, and hope is one thing we all want…….and need.

A new year, a fresh start, gives us hope that we can do better. We can regroup and get
back on track. We can look at things from a different perspective. For a moment we can take
a deep breath and slowly exhale.

Life is cumbersome and a bit overwhelming. That’s a fact.

To live with that fact, we have to know there’s hope. We have to know there are moments
when we can stop, breathe and steer ourselves back on course when we’ve taken the wrong
road, turned down a dead end street or headed for a crash.

If we could only see every day, each new morning, as a fresh start, our mole hills might
not turn into mountains.

Happy New Year!

We have a little gift for you that we hope will help you keep your eyes on this simple, quiet event that brought us hope for eternity.

For instructions on how to change your desktop image, follow the appropriate link below:

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Desktop Wallpaper by David Arms is licensed under a
Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.
Based on work at davidarms.com.

I am opening my own gallery in the most unlikely of places – a barn. As you round the bend into the town of historic Leiper’s Fork, the first building to greet you is now one of two places where my original art can be viewed (the other being Atlanta). It is also the only place where the full line of products can be seen that are inspired by my work.

I feel like this is such an honest move. It is a part of who I am. While creating my art, I work hard to remain true to myself. It is literally an extension of me, it conveys what I believe to be true. My art is a part of my story and this barn is the next chapter of my story. Since I was a child, I have had a passion for barns – their beauty, the need they filled in the lives of families and the place where I could step into another world. It is only fitting as I pass the twenty year mark of making art that I should start showing my work in a place that says so much about who I am.

This is no ordinary barn. Plain and simple, yes. But it has been renovated in a way that pays tribute to its roots as it now plays a vital role in the part of a thriving community.

For years I have wanted to make viewing art more approachable, more friendly. A place where I would like to be. I now have an atmosphere that says “come in, make yourself at home and stay for a while”.

I love the fact that at 55 years old and after twenty years of painting, I feel like l’m just getting started.
 

Come join us

at the barn with warm fires, food and music as we celebrate the opening of my new gallery in Leiper’s Fork on October 22, from 6-9 p.m. There will be a new collection of artwork and I’ll be giving away an original painting (value of $2900). For location and directions, see the address and map below.
 
The Barn at Leiper’s Fork
4136 Old Hillsboro Road | Franklin TN 37064
615-628-8561

View David Arms Gallery in a larger map

Suddenly we’re in the emergency room.

The next day she’s in surgery.

The next night we’re heading home with life looking a little differently than it had just days before.

As my daughter lay in the emergency room learning she was to have surgery, her main concern was for her friends. First she was concerned that some had been traumatized by what they had seen. And then she didn’t want them burdened with having to help her at school and otherwise.

We talked about how learning to receive had been such a difficult thing for me to embrace. Giving had been easy. Receiving, not.

We talked about how learning to receive is as important as learning to give. It takes us out of the driver’s seat where we’re no longer in control. And therein lies the struggle.

We talked about how helping others is one of the greatest joys in life and when we don’t allow others to do the same for us, we rob them of that joy.

Her friends have swarmed around her like bees on a hive and they are all dying to help. For many of them it is their way of saying “thanks” to her for the many ways she has helped them.

Relationships must be a two way street. It’s the only way a relationship can be complete.

Last year I wrote these words saying just that.

Life is meant to be shared.

It’s one of God’s ways to bring healing.

Here are those words:

No purchase necessary. Simply free.

Having been asked to use my artwork as desktop wallpaper for some time now, I’m glad to say we’ve adapted six paintings into high-quality images that are available at no charge to anyone who would like to download them.

Enjoy!

Click here to see the Free Desktop Wallpaper

I’m sitting at the water’s edge being lulled by the waves as they gracefully roll in, then gently slide away. There is such peace here in this continual rhythm.

Mindlessly I pitch hands full of sand onto the perfectly smooth beach, making my own mess of things.

Then I watch as the waves remove what I had done as though it had never happened.

Then I do it again.

And the waves do the same.

There is nothing I can do to stop it.

I throw the sand. I make the mess. Then the waves wash it away.

Then I realize – isn’t that the way of grace?

I make the mess, and grace continually washes over me. I am seen as clean and perfect. I make the mess again, grace continually washes over me, and I am still seen as clean and perfect.

And there is absolutely nothing I can do to stop it – no matter how many messes I make.

By grace, I live in a constant cleansing.

The clouds have rolled across the sky like a carpet.

The wind is steady.

The waves are large for a lake. But the sound is so soothing.

I find it all quite beautiful.

I turn on my iPhone and click to the Psalms – it is a very “Psalms” kind of moment.

Here is what came up:

“You lay out the rafters of your home in the rain clouds. You make the clouds Your chariot; You ride upon the wings of the wind.”

Amen.

I fear it is something my children will not experience once my wife and I are gone. Who will “write” to them? Still, to this day, I love the childlike feeling of sneaking a handwritten note in one of their bags as they’re leaving for camp – or even a sleepover with a friend.

I love the convenience of technology and I can easily get caught in the trap of wanting to “speed things up” and avoid the hassle of finding a stamp and taking it to the mailbox. But a handwritten note is personal in a way that an email can never be.

In an old tin box kept in an old wooden cabinet, I have a stack of letters that my grandparents wrote to each other during the Great Depression when he had to move away from his family in order to find work and provide for them. They are dated 1934. They are priceless. Each written in pencil on the simplest of paper. It is difficult to envision a time in the future when my grandchildren will look at old emails that I had written to them, no matter how sentimental they might be.

Letters become a piece of history.

I am presently reading David McCullough’s “1776″, and I’m intrigued by the fact that these men, in the heat of battle, found the time and the “wherewithal” to write home to their families. These letters are national treasures. It’s rather humorous to imagine the Smithsonian displaying a printed email behind a wall of glass.

I do enjoy writing. I still like to write with a pencil. I like writing my thoughts. I even like writing my prayers. I also like writing what might be considered lyrics or a poem. And I am trying to include notes as a part of that writing. Whether saying “thank you” or “thinking of you”, I want to do it by hand.

To encourage myself to consistently sit down and write, I have created a space that inspires me to do so. Mine happens to be in my studio and it is a place set aside just for that. Surrounded by books, photos and gifts from nature, I lay my notecard or journal on an old wooden surface where maybe other notes and letters were written generations before me.

For others it might be a simple, neat, modern space that keeps their mind clear for thought.

Whatever inspires the “handwritten”, I encourage creating that space.

Maybe it’s a bench in the woods!

Like my grandparents, I have a box where I stash all of those special notes and letters that I have received over the years and just can’t throw away. My kids will dig through them one day.

Right now my oldest daughter is at a twelve day camp in Northern California. I miss her terribly. But yesterday I received a handwritten letter from her – something I will keep until I leave this earth. Beside my name on the envelope, she had written “Dad”. Seeing her handwriting made me feel like I could see her. It is uniquely hers and there was something about knowing it was her hand that laid on that paper to write her thoughts to me.

It will go in my box.