sadness

Newspace 

Books, Music, Art, Movies, Life

I learned on Friday that Newspace Center For Photography closed permanently. It was all of a sudden with no warning at all. I am still gutted whenever I think about it. It was a big part of my routine when I went to Portland. Drop my husband off at work. go to Newspace and print for an hour. And now it’s gone. I still can hardly believe it. I had to drive by on Monday to see if it was true, and, alas, there is a big “For Lease” sign in the window. I didn’t have a heart to take a photo of that. It just made me too sad.

Newspace  has played such an big role in my creative development. It was where I learned how to develop film. It was where I was introduced to pinhole photography. I have spent hours in their darkroom. I have used their studio and their high quality scanners. I have felt so much gratitude that I had access to all of this. I have bragged about them to others and taken out of town visitors there to show them around the place. I’ve taken classes there. I enjoyed the amazing artwork that graced the walls.

I am feeling at a loss and so very empty. It feels like a good friend has died. All of this can never be replaced. I think the community can cobble together things like a community darkroom, but to have all of these things in one place was an amazing treasure that I took for granted. And now it’s gone.

Here are some photos I took there over the years. Some are pinhole, some are iPhone snaps.

 

How to die (if you are David Bowie).

Books, Music, Art, Movies
  1. Get Cancer.
  2. Don’t reveal to the public that you have cancer.
  3. While going through Chemo/contemplating your death, throw your creative energy into making a unbelievably amazing album.
  4. Release said record album to the public on your birthday.
  5. Die two days later.

Well played, sir. The world will greatly miss you.

Photo credit: By AVRO (Beeld En Geluid Wiki – Gallerie: Toppop 1974) [CC BY-SA 3.0], via Wikimedia Commons

Life

I really don’t know what to say today. I feel like my words are empty. I have no words. I really just want to extend my love to those all over the world who have suffered  these past few days. It’s been a rough few days.

May you be happy.
May you be healthy.
May you be peaceful.
May you live with ease.

God beams and the Eiffel Tower

In honor of World Poetry Day…

Books, Music, Art, Movies

Last week I felt the kind of ache in my heart that can only be soothed by writing. I thought of Pablo Neruda and his beautiful, heart-breakingly sad poem and decided to record myself reading it. I learned a few minutes ago that today is World Poetry Day. I can’t think of a better thing to do than to post my recording from last week.

the saddest poem

Books, Music, Art, Movies

I read this beautiful poem by Pablo Neruda a month ago and I can’t stop thinking about it. It reminds me of the Pantoum form. It isn’t but the rhythm of it reminds me of it. It has inspired me to write more pantoums, which I may  or may not share at some point in the future.

The Saddest Poem
I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.

Write, for instance: “The night is full of stars,
and the stars, blue, shiver in the distance.”

The night wind whirls in the sky and sings.

I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.

On nights like this, I held her in my arms.
I kissed her so many times under the infinite sky.

She loved me, sometimes I loved her.
How could I not have loved her large, still eyes?

I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.
To think I don’t have her. To feel that I’ve lost her.

To hear the immense night, more immense without her.
And the poem falls to the soul as dew to grass.

What does it matter that my love couldn’t keep her.
The night is full of stars and she is not with me.

That’s all. Far away, someone sings. Far away.
My soul is lost without her.

As if to bring her near, my eyes search for her.
My heart searches for her and she is not with me.

The same night that whitens the same trees.
We, we who were, we are the same no longer.

I no longer love her, true, but how much I loved her.
My voice searched the wind to touch her ear.

Someone else’s. She will be someone else’s. As she once
belonged to my kisses.
Her voice, her light body. Her infinite eyes.

I no longer love her, true, but perhaps I love her.
Love is so short and oblivion so long.

Because on nights like this I held her in my arms,
my soul is lost without her.

Although this may be the last pain she causes me,
and this may be the last poem I write for her.