The man walks toward the setting sun.

He has been walking for a lifetime.

He has experienced many things.

There have been many sunsets.

He walks and he remembers.

Challenges he has met.

Things he has seen.

Turns not taken.

Roads traveled.

Hills climbed.



The man wonders, as he walks – where does the road lead?

Am I on the right road, am I going in the right direction?

Am I walking too quickly, am I walking too slowly?

He thinks of things encountered on his travels.

Some are cherished and embraced.

Some things, he has left behind.

Some still remain, uninvited.

Like pebbles in his shoes.

He keeps walking.

Step by step.




Image and text © 2017 James Golaszewski




Fat Jack’s Blues

Fat Jacks Blues Prismacolor on panelWhen I was growing up I loved to listen to my transistor radio late at night when I was supposed to be asleep in bed.

The Chicago Cubs were my favorite baseball team, while the Pittsburgh Pirates were a close second.  Way back in 1969 BC (Before Computers), before the internet, cable TV, satellite TV and satellite radio – if you wanted to listen to a baseball game that did not feature your “home” team, you had to wait for a night game. At night, the AM radio signals would “skip” and you could hear broadcasts from all over. The static and interference from distant thunderstorms only added to the mood created by far away voices on the radio.

In 1969 the friendly confines of Chicago’s Wrigley Field did not have lights (just as God intended things to be). Consequently, the only time you could listen to a Cubs game at night was when they were playing out of town.  I would listen to Vince Lolyd and Lou Boudreau announce the game, … “Santo, Kessinger, Beckert and Banks, the infield third to first.”

When the game was over, you could switch to the FM dial and listen to a smooth talking DJ play obscure album tracks or jazz, while you gazed out your window at all of the mysterious late night goings on.

This painting is meant to recreate the mood of those late summer nights

Image and Text © 2017 James Golaszewski

No Time To Waste

No Time To Waste Mixed Media 16 X 30

No Time To Waste

Sometimes, on a perfectly ordinary day when things are going well and I am calm and relaxed, something will trigger a sad memory. I will be reminded of something that causes me anxiety, or causes a long forgotten regret or worry to cross my mind.

When that happens, I calm and re-center myself by picturing myself in a place like the one depicted in this painting.

There is No Time To Waste pondering things that are done and things to come.


Image and text © 2017 James Golaszewski

These Are the Days We Are Given

These Are the Days We Are Given Acrylic 24 X 24


The Man wonders.

Why is it raining on me? When will the darkness end? Where am I going?  Am I going in the right direction?

The Man’s shoes squish and squeak on the wet sidewalk. His jeans wick water from below, making them cumbersome.  His baggage weighs heavy on his shoulder, pulling him downward. Tires hiss and splash as cars full of unnoticing Others race past.   A steady rain taps out a murmuring drumbeat on his umbrella while hot neon buzzes overhead.  Doors and windows are shut, blocking out the Man in the cold damp air

The Man considers his situation.

Raindrops in freefall, each separate and individual until their inevitable collision with the earth, where they join with the souls of all of the other raindrops and return to where they began.  The joy of the falling raindrop is not diminished by the knowledge of its inevitable homecoming.  The raindrop knows that whatever path it takes, and wherever it lands, it will join with others and become something greater than it was.

Drop by drop the minutes pass.  Night by night the years pass.  Sometimes things are as the Man wishes they were.  Even then, he worries about the coming darkness.  Sometimes, the cold rain comes. The Man feels resentful and put-upon.  The Man wonders what he ever did to deserve such a miserable plight.

The raindrops speak to the Man.

The raindrops talk to the Man about destiny.  The raindrops talk to the Man about how, step by step, drop by drop, we move towards something greater.  The raindrops tell the Man how they move from the oceans to the sky and then back to the oceans. The raindrops teach the Man about The Way.

The Man has a realization.

There is an order to all things. He is part of a much larger Universe. There is a Plan.  The Plan is not under his control. The Plan is too big to be understood from his vantage point.  The Man now trusts that all is as it should be. The Man knows that each day, each heartbeat, is a gift; and gifts are to be appreciated.  To be anxious is to not trust The Way.  A peaceful mind, even in times of darkness, is how we show gratitude and follow The Way.

The Man walks in the cold night rain with a neon buzz… He smiles. He understands. He is at peace because he knows.

These Are the Days We Are Given.


Image and text © 2017 James Golaszewski

Come What May

Come What May 28.5 X 18.5

Come What May


The dilemma

Enter the clamor

And expose yourself

To an onslaught from all sides

Or remain at the railing, watching…


The choice

Is no choice

Because to remain

Is choosing to not begin

And there is no life, until the beginning…


You hesitate

You may get hurt

The screeching metal

The lights and cascading sparks

The cacophony and chaos and uncertainty…


One thing

Is surely inevitable

The ride will come to an end

The length of time is not a choice

The richness of the experience is the only variable…


You see

Hit after hit

The others continue

Shaken by each impact, but joyful still

You enter, knowing your spirit will endure, Come What May.


© 2018 James Golaszewski






Drifting On A Reflection



on a reflection.



all that has passed.



of what may be next.



I can control my destiny.



to row against wind and tide.



as struggling against a teardrop.



to the push and pull of the currents.



now in still waters.



on a reflection.




Image and Text © James Golaszewski 2017


Hot Summer Night


Hot Summer Night


in the dark heat

of a humid summer night.

Listening to the night sounds.


about life and people.

Things I do not understand.

Seeking clues, insight, understanding.


silent lightening.

At first over the horizon,

now nearly upon me, silent no longer.


the sticky heat

becoming cooler and drier.

A welcome, yet frightening, change.


because change

can come at a high price.

The storm, much closer now, threatens.


still visible

above the soaring clouds

Provide a calming cosmic perspective.


tendrils of light

spiral about in and out of the clouds.

Illuminating earth and sky in otherworldly light.


a prelude

to the main event.

A searing bolt connects the earth and sky


A lingering flash.

An earsplitting blast.

The earth has been changed by the heavens.


have learned

I am but a small piece

of all that was, is, and will be.


I watch

God paint the sky

On “A Hot Summer Night”.

Painting and text © 2016 James Golaszewski