antique store in an antique town it’s hard to tell sometimes if they’re ever open for business although it’s clear they have inventory gilded decorations and ancient typewriters all of them gaining a fresh new layer albeit at an imperceptible pace of that fine floating detritus as it settles upon them to rest
sometimes in a dream a scene like this makes me wonder if its time to clean house do some accounting, and let some things go things that no longer serve, perhaps on account of how I’ve been treating them leaving them exposed to the weather not even mowing the lawn they occupy old visions, beliefs that have expired perceptions of self and others perspectives I no longer occupy imagine the garden that could grow if I gathered up and carried away all these things I no longer use and those which no longer serve me
gas tank and a metal box sitting quietly out back strapped in and ready for travel while the grass grows, indifferent beneath their round feet in an alley with color and texture framed by power lines in the sky, an avenue of rich green trees and gravel on the ground before an uncluttered backdrop a wall freshly painted beneath a clean white roof waiting, patient
I never even needed to look at my hands it was by this light I knew that I was dreaming light like this is not just the sun shining down but the light of awareness that glows from within luminous emptiness pervading illusory form what a magical playground to wander through anything could happen, you could meet anyone and everything about it is always infused with this liberating, mind-altering light throughout the dream I let it lead me
in a change of scene one finds only in dreams I find myself drawn in by a gentle rushing whisper and suddenly kneeling beside this stream inhaling new strength from its green leafy shade which now bears me up onto the street above my breath now its susurration its flow now my dream
I dreamed I was Frank Gehry relegated to reclaimed timber and a shoestring budget confined to a small town on the edge of the Alleghenies devoting my final years to reworking Merriweather Post to the tune of titanium
architectural details like these seem to cry out for a certain attention and yet, what sort of attention might that be is it not the touch of time, that careful caress wind and water, hot sun and hard frost the constant cosmetics of cosmology beauty hard earned by ancients texture, color, and the sort of je ne sais quoi that comes from authentic self shining through laid bare by the exfoliating sands of time a luminosity of awareness glowing from within revealed by the removal of all that otherwise obscures – the materiality of newness traded in for the essence of age
an image from a dream perhaps, or so it seems to me and I was there – wandering, in a daze wondering at the ways the scene would change as I found myself walking around an unknown town in one moment, underground, crouched down by flowing water the next, on the street in a light that seemed itself to glow from within a gilded grey infused with the soul of pastels, the light of the golden hour on a day when the sun has dropped below a bank of clouds in the late afternoon leaving the whole town awash in the most subtle splendor, a deep luminosity that seemed to pervade all and glorify everything and everyone and me just floating through it, a newcomer, just a visitor happy to be in such a strange and beautiful land content to let the place contain my curiosity as I wandered and wondered and wended my way careful not to come awake – at least not just yet… if I lie still here a little while longer I might find my way back into the dream…
After a brief dip in luxuriant coldness downstream, I hiked up the path a ways to find a suitable spot for recording. This time I was dressed for being in the water, and I brought appropriate gear for positioning the camera and microphones in the water in case I found that was the location of the best vantage.
I recorded this video and another just a few yards downstream. I’ve been finding it difficult to focus on the white water of a scene like this, particularly on such a small screen as my camera affords. I also find that invites my eye to wander to the edges as a viewer, so a tradeoff, perhaps…
The sound was more interesting to me in this location than in the last; a creek is a soundscape of endless variety, and the more interaction at the surface between water and objects in its way, the more endless the variety in any one place.
Aside from fades, I did edit this image other than as I would normally do for a still image; the sound editing is similarly minimal. My vision is to make the visual element of a recording like this imperceptibly dynamic, so you can imagine that the camera is engaging you with its movement beneath the level of your conscious awareness…
the end of an era of cheap convenience that turns out to be expensive and also inconvenient like a lot of things have been…
surely we can find more authentic measures of quality than money and convenience measures more relevant in our immediate experience as well as in the long run
what impact does commerce have on the culture and well being of the people in my community?
what does the short term gain of venture capital investors have on the health of the planet?
to whom is something convenient? to whom is any transaction beneficial? who benefits from the sale of junk food?
I look forward to the Food Festival and have high hopes for a new level of expense and inconvenience that turns out to be inexpensive and convenient, possibly even Slow, food – the kind you have to sit down to enjoy with others