L’Ile

Barcelona, Spain – Every man, an island

“Each human being,” he read out loud, “lives in both a community and a state of loneliness and tension, confronted by strangers. The gap of uniqueness is too wide to be bridged. It is not a gap, it is an abyss. Two people glancing at the same object continue to lead isolated, closed-in existences. We remain strangers to each other.”

This was sad, dense, a little arcane, but also true. No matter how intimate people yearn to be with one another, there is very little lasting communion. Divorce rates are only the bluntest example. We seek closeness, but remain apart. We don’t really understand one another. We perceive someone else, even when we love them, only by our imaginings.

The truth is that we live as we dream – alone.

– excerpt taken from “Bridging the abyss – if only briefly” by Elissa Ely
International Herald Tribune
Tuesday, February 3, 2009

Sentient

Copenhagen, Denmark – Awake in the small hours.

Awake at four
with the old brain beating
its fast tattoo –
I want, I want –
I think of love,
of the hot scramble
of limbs in darkness;

of the mind
pulsing its secrets
in metaphor;
of synapses firing
need, longing, love;
of the body
with its midnight hungers;

of the mind
caught between dream and waking;
wondering what it is,
self-creating always;

of God,
whatever she is
asking the questions;
Who are you anyway,
and how did you get here,
and what is the distance
between two stars,
between two brain cells,
between two lovers?

Here in the rosy
pink-ringed dark
all the birds
are sentient in their own way
as we –
on the verge
of wakefulness
and song.

~ Erica Jong

Fly as you might

 

 
I am here but to give you my best
Stand by your side while you rest
’cause you’re my girl, ’cause you’re my girl

I will provide for you Bess
I’ve always liked you the best
Fly as you might, Fly as you might

I will support you through this
I’ll hold your hand while you rest
’cause you’re my girl, ’cause you’re my girl

I think my deeds will attest
I’ve always liked you the best
Fly as you might, Fly as you might

~ Julian Plenti

Shibuya streets

 

 

 

 

Tokyo, Japan – Wandering the streets of Shibuya in the early hours of a Thursday morning. Rubber boots and a G10.

Wearing masks

 

I wanted to ask how much I could reveal about myself, whether my whole life was public property… dressed up for public consumption. Does this make me an exhibitionist? Is nothing sacred?

I walk right into the lives of strangers and ask that they bare all, the more stripped down, the better. Show me everything that you have, warts and all. Don’t be afraid because this is life, this is truth and we are all chained to it. There is nothing to hide.

So where does that leave me? Hiding behind the lens? To show or not to show. To spin illusions or give you, the viewer, the truth. The honesty of broken down relationships, shameful aftermaths, lust, darkness in conjunction with the light.

And if I do walk down this path, what of my friends?

Perhaps they will take to wearing masks.

After the red

After the red
When ideals fall away and
All that’s left is blue and gray
Leveled snowdrifts, bearded cheeks
Old commie faces on old commie streets

© Tomeu Coll

 

© Tomeu Coll

 

© Tomeu Coll

Like we used to

The sand in the hourglass is running low
I came through thunder, the cold wind
The rain and the snow
To find you awake by your windowsill
A sight for sore eyes and a view to kill

So get off your low and let’s dance like we used to
But there’s a light in the distance
Waiting for me, I will wait for you
So get off your low and let’s kiss like we used to

– White Lies

 

 

 

 

 

Middle path 2008

 

 

 

Sydney, Australia – Art Gallery of New South Wales

Hossein VALAMANESH
Iran/Australia b1949

Middle path 2008
saffron on paper

“Hossein Valamanesh’s work often draws on Iranian culture – in particular Iranian poetry and the Sufi mystic tradition. In Middle path 2008, the artist has handwritten the word for ‘love’ in Farsi script, repeating it over and over in an act of concentration and dedication. The text is written in saffron, the precious spice derived from the crocus flower and grown and used for thousands of years in Iran.

Only the centre of the scroll is displayed, as the word for ‘love’ appears boldly and strongly at the beginning before it gently fades and then re-emerges. The work was part of the exhibition No love lost, whose title, rather than suggesting conflict, refers to the importance of retaining love – of not letting any love go. Middle path evokes love as a cyclical and continuous process – part of the human condition – as it fades and, with care and attention, returns as strongly as before.”

There is a light

 

 

Nairobi, Kenya – Road warriors

And if a double-decker bus
crashes into us
To die by your side
is such a heavenly way to die
And if a ten-ton truck
crashes into us
To die by your side
Well, the pleasure, the privilege is mine

Oh, there is a light and it never goes out

– The Smiths