Musings are recollections of memories, of dreams, of ideas. Such recollections are persistent because they remain unresolved-whether as concepts about the world or as actions, taken or avoided, in art, life, and love. My musings are ripe because I have been chewing on them for many years. I am an old painter and a somewhat younger philosopher, and I remain concerned with how these fit together. So my first essay is about my journey through the landscape of such fitting. This done, I take on some art of our and other times that I revere or dislike. Then, as I am not a believer in straight paths, I go on to muse on how the world was before it began and how it will be after it ends, and how we can be who's and whats in places that are not the same. I return to art to argue against theories that champion brain over mind, and I enlist my artist-dog to illustrate my argument. My musings end with a broader journey that pits the alternate societies of crookeds and straights in their strivings for fulfillment-and their needs, on occasion, to come together.
