May this me tingle my heart

It was a  rainy week along Alameda Creek

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I like rain but it does not really happen in Fremont, mostly overcast skies, short snippets of downpours mixed with light drizzles, and if I am lucky sometimes the road even smells like rain.  It can make me nostalgic for Massachusetts, but not enough to want to live in the cold again.

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I walk along the Alameda Creek almost everyday, four miles, 12 years ago I did it in 52 minutes, now at 74 years  its over an hour if I do it it straight,  however over the years  I have met so many people that I usually meet someone and stop to talk. This gentleman lives on the other side of the creek in a drainage area,  from which during the rain water flows.

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He has bedding adn other stuff there.

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I wondered how he would do   during the rain, last week his bedding washed down the the creek  but I noticed  he was back again yesterday.

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I was in San Francisco last week, a lover’s discussion, her restaurant, her boyfriend, his pleading and promising could be heard, they went inside, she gave him some cash from the register and he left. She resumed working.

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Conversation in Chicago, fall, 1969, SDS Days of Rage,

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When I was a kid I used to follow  Pogo and Out Our Way. As an adult I read For Better or Worse until they started reruns.  Presently I read Luann,  this  is one of my favorites, it is an interesting reflection on how any of us really know how what we do today affects the future, human hubris and True Believers comes to mind and thank God for people who can laugh at themselves.

There will always be problems, people will always have solutions and tomorrow there’ll be more problems;  how many  were caused by yesterday’s solutions. On the other hand its human to hope that things can get better.

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Life kneads too be more than a cardboard cutout.

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Would you cut off your arm for something you cannot show me?

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Would you mistake a sleeping Buddha for me?

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If I met Buddha on the road could I kill him?

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I would prefer something simpler which made sense of the moment instead of a solution aimed at tomorrow, who nos, there may not be a tomorrow, maybe there was never really a yesterday.

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But inspite of my efforts  my camera remains unconnected to me, leading me on, fooling me, never showing me as I want to see, heartlessly blinding me to my ignorance,

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driving me to seek refuge in MissConfusion.

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Won day my camera forced me to stop and reflect on myself . . .noing but not understanding that  this day come . . .

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Could I really trust this celph,

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and may this May meeting end with a new beginning,

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Photograph becoming print?

Prints are graphic arts which means that there is a technique/process which enables printing the same image multiple times. Generally prints are categorized by the type of the technique/ process,  such as silk screen, wood cut, linoleum block, etching or photograph.

But there is something else about a photograph which makes it unique, there is an underlying common assumption that there is something REAL in a photographic image, and we even have  a contemporary term when that REAL THING has been altered—“Its been photoshopped!

Upon seeing this image, most people would understand it as a photograph, perhaps call it  a snapshot or a visual record of a personal event which was Real. Its really me, my wife, my parents and Rev. Murakami who is a Real Buddhist pries in front of  a Real Buddhist alter and its a Real me, my wife, and parents. If this were a silkscreen would you agree it Really Happened?

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Here too, most people would call it photograph, probably not a snapshot but a Real visual record of a moment of a public  event.

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Another image, obviously it is a photograph, but at the feeling level, something does not quite jibe.  For a few weeks my father and mother  were “gaijin” (foreigners) on a  Japanese TV show. This is a still from a professional photographer on the set, and I made a high resolution scan from a professional 5″ x 7″  print.  There is a feeling about the “quality” of the image which suggests skilled  control.

What is real? Its actors playing a scene. still this is a REAL record of that moment even if the moment is not real.

You can immediately feel this is a professional image and as quickly, that there is something not “Real” about this photograph, yet its a real image of the moment, these are real people really sitting around the table, etc.

What is not real? You know these people are not in a Real situation  because of the feeling you have about what it would look like if people were there in the same situation—  it doesn’t feel natural.

Its not “Real” that these people would look like this in real life, except of course they are getting paid for it, —the reason  why does not matter. This image can generate some slight confusion, i.e. a mental question about what is Real, and when you unconsciously  look to answer your question, you find an answer—all happens very quickly, generally unconsciously or intuitively, at the feeling level, Its knowing by feeling.

Some photographers will use that as a design element  to generate interest in the image, but not all do, certainly in your wedding photographs you want something basic and beautiful, able to bring warm memories for the life of your marriage.

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Suddenly  this feels like I am intruding on someone’s privacy and yet if you look,  you have learned nothing private about this person, still you get a feeling about who she is, though it is probably more related to who you are than whose is. . But it feels a little weird, there is less detail, edges are smoothed out, something’s not Real, its been photoshopped! 

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Back to business of being a photograph . . .

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and back to the business of being a print.

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In the former you are more aware of the woman as an individual, in the latter you are more aware of the people as parts  in a design, the image is not about the people yet it tells you something about the people.

*—*

Actually I do not want to know anymore about these people than I know from the image, they were outside City Lights one afternoon. What they are doing is much more important than who they are—I find myself saying what an incredible world we live in .

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You may have thought you were the only one . . .

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End summary:  a  photograph has a “certain visual  feel,”  when people see a visual image and it feels like a photograph.  they know that feeling and trust it. Second, a photograph has a “ social mentality,” once people define it as  a photograph then they want to know what it “Really” is.

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Having  a  piece of visual art hanging on your wall is different from seeing it everyday on the internet.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Feathers in cream

Would I want a wish to win
A way to where  some withered will
Waits behind my wanting.

What my dear Watson
Walks between where 
 and wear
Whistling that melody  wayful and worn
Whimsically  wheezing why know when..

William left me waiting
With words  wicking wound
That winking and blinking and nodding
Won waste of an afternoon.

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Sometime when I see things I  feel like there is too much nonessential visual information, I like to simplify it  by reducing the range of information biased towards line, shape, color, texture,  and minimizing the common sense.

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My feet were pretty simple, and they had no other place to go, and for sure Iamgladthat I can look down and see them.

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Any  journey began with that singular step  forward or backward . . .

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What is that stops me from taking the leap?

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Am I too confused or insecure to seek a new direction

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or was I too ready to just settle for any kind TRUTH?

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Takoyaki,  a great street food one night I got off the metro  a few stops west of Shibuya and while wandering around I discovered a bar with an outside window selling takoyaki, I bought and ate 12,  did I really want twelve or was just a case of a pretty face.

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At home I like shiokara with sake, here served on  an e-karatsu plate by Murata Munehiko.

 

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My personal thought,   the highest Art of pottery are functional pieces which are used everyday, lower art  of pottery sits in a museum or on display.

Pottery (and textiles) were  creations  necessary  for human survival, people used and to this day use, pottery for basic human functions.  Some potters, while understanding that the   function of pottery was necessary for human survival chose to make using pottery a celebration of the everyday experience of being human.

Non functional pottery seeks to deny  the celebration of being human and make the experience, not one  to be found be in the simple everyday act of using pottery,  but a “thinking experience” defined by memorizing words,  terminologies and only available  is to be denied to those who have “learned” the expertise, and to  be denied to those who “simply find every day meaning  in using it.

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I like sake, I like setoguro,  I like  bizen.

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I designed  a couple of book covers  by the author-artist-humantarian-philospher Frederick Frank. I had discovered his book  The Zen of Seeing/ Drawing as Meditation  about 1970.  About 1998 I had the honor of designing the covers below for Beacon Point Press working with Tom Magnum.  Most of his book covers used a drawing by Frank (quite rightly so), but the second one was an autobiography, it seemed a photo of him might be appropriate as he had affected many lives and it would be nice if people could see his face and hands. He had a long and productive life which positively contributed  to the human experience.

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As for my celph maybe there is too much to run from, too much to hide to, crazies to the left of me, crazies to the right of me, and know place in the middle.

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Left unlong rightwo shortodie

I wonder  if this is a lost in  translation or an Ozu humor?ozufilm2

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I use the “free” wordpress  platform  which is very limited in  available design functions , and  having not kept up with html , I cannot figure out how to delete a category, so sometimes when I create a new one I  misspell  it and I cannot remove it. 

The Old West End, Toledo, where is a better place for noledge?

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I saw Buce Murdoch at New Port, I had the album “Singer-Songwriter released about 1965‚ featuring Bruce, Pat Sky,  David Cohen (later David Blue) and Richard Farina, who wrote on the back liner notes (my paraphrase ) : “. . . The poets of today will be writing songs and playing guitars. . .” I read later that Bruce returned home to Canada to have a career as a teacher and principal of a school. I remembered these lines for decades.

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Days when the light just came from everywhere 

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I still jog walk  everyday, four miles, more or less, now over an hour, or more,  listen to podcast of The Archers; Tom and John on Bloomberg Surveillance; MelvinBragg,  In Our Time; TIP, The Investors Podcast;  reruns of Click & Clack; Wait Wait;  and This American  Life.

But there’re also things to on the path  beside the levee along the path next to Alameda Creek, Oh No, Stupid Me !!! That is outside the window in the room my son used.

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A fleeting movement or perhaps its all just happening at once

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Or once a year?

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At one  point I was informed it was in copyright rights, or trademark rights,  or some legalize, for me  to show these images with the name of the building, so . . .

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Escaping himself, time was  more or less spent than yesterday. Pick any one, its how I look to others and  you are lucky, usually I do not give them a choice. 

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The wait of the bus? Too much “Street Photography” Where is the ART?? 

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Government workers or contractors paint the streets, Here is an “S“ in the word STOP. Duration and change. ART!!!

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Hui’ko was the Second Patriarch of Chan, the unfortunate  homeless man to whom Daruma passed the robe and bowl. 

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But you need not, musicians are musicians whether weekend or touring stars, who is to say this is not . .  . Sometimes we would share a table with Ed, —Angie used to come beautifully dressed and made up just for Ed—and one of those times  a very attractive young women in a slinky cocktail dress came in  the dining area , Ed saw,  and responded “What a beautiful women, and with hardly a hesitation, he added “Not as beautiful as Angie.” This day these  musicians made music for some thing special in the life of Ed and Angie.

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Does it matter whether you understand the words??? Joyce did not think so and M. Jagger once said (something like} the words don’t matter, its the music.  I do not remember the actual quote, but if I did and put them here I might get sued,   but  I am safe attacking a dead  man.

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