A THOUSAND WORDS - Alex Waterhouse-Hayward's blog on pictures, plants, politics and whatever else is on his mind.




 

gossamer my gown, My tippet only tulle
Saturday, September 24, 2016


Because I could not stop for Death,
He kindly stopped for me;
The carriage held but just ourselves
And Immortality.

We slowly drove, he knew no haste,
And I had put away
My labor, and my leisure too,
For his civility.

We passed the school, where children strove
At recess, in the ring;
We passed the fields of gazing grain,
We passed the setting sun.

Or rather, he passed us;
The dews grew quivering and chill,
For only gossamer my gown,
My tippet only tulle.

We paused before a house that seemed
A swelling of the ground;
The roof was scarcely visible,
The cornice but a mound.

Since then 'tis centuries, and yet each
Feels shorter than the day
I first surmised the horses' heads
Were toward eternity.
Emily Dickinson




 More Emily Dickinson

I pay in satin cash
Emily Dickinson's White Dress & a Hunter of Lost Souls
El vestido blanco - The White Dress
Water makes many beds
 The viola da gamba
 But sequence ravelled out of reach
 A parasol is the umbrella's daughter
 Without the power to die
 Lessons on the piny
Ample make this bed
How happy is the little stone
 Sleep is supposed to be
The shutting of the eye
I dwell in possibility
when Sappho was a living girl
In a library
 A light exists in spring
The lady dare not lift her veil
 I took my power in my hand
 I find my feet have further goals
 I cannot dance upon my toes
The Music of the Violin does not emerge alone
Red Blaze 
He touched me, so I live to know
Rear Window- The Entering Takes Away
Said Death to Passion
 We Wear the Mask That Grins And Lies
It was not death for I stood alone
The Music in the Violin Does Not Emerge Alone
I tend my flowers for thee
Lavinia Norcross Dickinson
Pray gather me anemone! 
Ample make her bed
His caravan of red 
Me-come! My dazzled face  
Develops pearl and weed

But peers beyond her mesh
Surgeons must be very careful
Water is taught by thirst
I could not prove that years had feet
April played her fiddle
A violin in Baize replaced
I think the longest hour
The spirit lasts
http://blog.alexwaterhousehayward.com/2014/03/i-left-them-in-ground-emily-dickinson.html
http://blog.alexwaterhousehayward.com/2014/01/i-felt-my-life-with-both-my-hands.html
http://blog.alexwaterhousehayward.com/2011/03/currer-bell-emily-dickinson-charlotte.html

http://blog.alexwaterhousehayward.com/2011/03/and-zero-at-bone-with-dirks-of-melody.html
http://blog.alexwaterhousehayward.com/2011/05/charm-invests-her-face.html

http://blog.alexwaterhousehayward.com/2011/06/i-could-not-see-to-see.html 
http://blog.alexwaterhousehayward.com/2011/06/blonde-assasin-passes-on.html
http://blog.alexwaterhousehayward.com/2012/12/you-almost-bathed-your-tongue.html




A un gato - To a cat - Borges
Friday, September 23, 2016



i-Phone 3G


A un gato – Jorge Luís Borges

No son más silenciosos los espejos
ni más furtiva el alba aventurera;
eres, bajo la luna, esa pantera
que nos es dado divisar de lejos.
Por obra indescifrable de un decreto
divino, te buscamos vanamente;
más remoto que el Ganges y el poniente,
tuya es la soledad, tuyo el secreto.
Tu lomo condesciende a la morosa
caricia de mi mano. Has admitido,
desde esa eternidad que ya es olvido,
el amor de la mano recelosa.
En otro tiempo estás. Eres el dueño
de un ámbito cerrado como un sueño.

To a cat - Jorge Luís Borges
Mirrors are not more silent
nor the creeping dawn more secretive;
in the moonlight, you are that panther
we catch sight of from afar.
By the inexplicable workings of a divine law,
we look for you in vain;
More remote, even, than the Ganges or the setting sun,
yours is the solitude, yours the secret.
Your haunch allows the lingering
caress of my hand. You have accepted,
since that long forgotten past,
the love of the distrustful hand.
You belong to another time. You are lord
of a place bounded like a dream.



From There to Here
Thursday, September 22, 2016




Quilla

From here to there may be more pleasant than from there to here the effort in the transformation can be fun. This sort of thing I can only do with a print and not from the negative. The print happens to be sepia toned. I scan it. I then go to RGB (I have a 13 year-old Photoshop) and drastically go to levels towards lighter. I do that a couple of times. I then darken it in LAB and go back to RGB and repeat the operation. Somewhere I bring down the saturation a tad.






That Latent Heart - El Corazón Latente
Wednesday, September 21, 2016




Shooting with film for me in the 20th century and in this one was and is a lonely business tinged with an exciting wonder.

From the first time sometime in early 1961 when I saw an image emerge on a sheet of 8x10 photographic paper in that Mexico City College darkroom on the Toluca highway I have been left with an excitement that has never worn off. The emergence of that image in the developer tray spied by a dim yellow safety light always brought to mind one of the most beautiful words associated with photography. These are the latent image.

The idea that after an exposure on a light sensitive medium be it a Daguerreotype, an albumen print, a wet plate or on celluloid film there is an image there in all of its entirety (for those who are part of the digital age think of a prototype RAW image) that had to be (in the language of the 19th century) developed out.

Photographic philosophers of the 20th century like Minor White wrote and talked about the idea of the pre-conceived image. One that you thought of, exposed and then developed to the exact specifications of your initial idea. Other photographers like Ansel Adams considered the resulting negative as a musical score in which the photographer in a darkroom would then interpret.
In my photographic life I have spent countless hours, alone in the darkroom thinking of the above and finding a melancholy of not being able to share that excitement with anybody.

The word latent has also gone through a change in use in this century. But I can only correct this by noting that in Spanish latente when connected to corazón has the wonderful meaning of a latent heart, one that beats.


There are two images here. One is a very sharp 6x7 cm Ektachrome and the other an overly exposed (an error) b+w Kodak Infrared Film. Both images are of the wondrous Lisa Ha who posed for me many times with patience.

The “corrected” over-exposed image underexposes those parts that would be anathema to social media and my blog’s self-censorship.

Alas at one time around 2000 I would have shown these photographs in a photo show. Those times are gone for me. So these wonderful errors lie in wait in my files for the moment that I will snap them up, fix them and use this wonderful internet to give the image its time in the sun even if that is in monitor pixels.

Minor White - Previsualizing the unpredictable



The Many Versions of Do This In Memory of Me
Tuesday, September 20, 2016

This blog, originally called Do This in Memory of Me appeared in January, 2013  but was lost by a Blogger problem.
My parents and with me in Luján, Argentina


Argentine Nostalgia
I thought I’d never miss: -

The wide expanse of pasture of the pampas,
The lead gray skies & stratus clouds
The whistling, whining, violent “pamperos”,
The wet moist cold,
The hot damp heat,
The monotonous landscape
Bare of trees & bushes 7 human beings
Populated by lazy, cattle.

But I do,
And remember,
The balmy breezes of early spring,
The mauve of jacarandá trees in early fall,
The crisp, white frost of midwinter,
The golden yellow of the aroma in late spring
The pungent, acrid odor of the figs in midsummer.

I thought I’d never miss:

The untidy almacén at my corner
Overflowing with cellophane bags of capeletti & ravioli
And mounds of sacks of new potatoes,
Reeking of onions & “tipo Roquefort cheese”,
Of smoked ham & bacon hanging from hooks
Or:
The heated discussion of the Italian neighbours,
The chattering, singing & crying of their children,
The clatter of their plates & knives - they ate
In the patio & almost lived there,
Their plaintive singing of their summer land
And the merry quartets from Barbero & Rigoletto.
Or:
The austere grays & browns & blacks
That Porteños think proper to wear,
Their sober silence and quiet in public vehicles
The busy little sidewalk cafes under striped awnings,
The interminable wait for tram 35,
The long and never ending route it took,

But I do,
And remember:-

The exquisite taste and stark simplicity
That Porteños think proper for wear,
Their polite “permiso” as they sidled by you on colectivos
The gracious old-fashioned cadence of the
“Cuando” danced in a café.
The beautiful church on Juramento and Cabildo
I always watched out for out of the window of Tram 35
The expectation of getting to Mother’s flat,
At the end of the line,
And the warmth I’d get there!

Filomena de Irureta Goyena de Hayward
Nueva Rosita, Coahuila, Mexico
Dec 5, 1956.


The above poem written by my mother in the northern Mexico mining town of Nueva Rosita has haunted me ever since she read it out to me a few years later. It has haunted me and also filled me with guilt that I never made her as happy as I could or that I might have shown disrespect. In fact I feel guilt because at age 15 I was not all that less of a teenage problem than my 15 year old granddaughter Rebecca is now. All I can say in my defence is that I was far less mature so my offences were not as critical.

When I see my daughter Hilary (Rebecca’s mother) and notice her smile it is the face of my mother that I gaze into and I have the idea that if I am pleasant and kind to her I will somehow compensate for my actions in the past with her grandmother, my mother.

Perhaps the most singularly beautiful sentence in the English language is this one:

“Do this in memory of me.”

It can be found in the New Testament, Luke 22:19 and also in 1 Corinthians 11:24-25. But it was only at the very bottom of the list below that I found the quote with the word memory. In fact remembrance is just as beautiful.



The Sacrament of the Last Supper, Salvador Dalí, 1955




New International Version (©1984)

and when he had given thanks, he broke it and said, "This is my body, which is for you; do this in remembrance of me."

New Living Translation (©2007)

and gave thanks to God for it. Then he broke it in pieces and said, "This is my body, which is given for you. Do this to remember me."


English Standard Version (©2001)

and when he had given thanks, he broke it, and said, “This is my body which is for you. Do this in remembrance of me.”



New American Standard Bible (©1995)

and when He had given thanks, He broke it and said, "This is My body, which is for you; do this in remembrance of Me."


Holman Christian Standard Bible (©2009)

gave thanks, broke it, and said, "This is My body, which is for you. Do this in remembrance of Me."


International Standard Version (©2012)

gave thanks for it, and broke it in pieces, saying, "This is my body that is for you. Keep doing this in memory of me."


King James Bible (Cambridge Ed.)

And when he had given thanks, he brake it, and said, Take, eat: this is my body, which is broken for you: this do in remembrance of me.


Aramaic Bible in Plain English (©2010)

And he blessed and he broke and he said, “Take eat; this is my body, which is broken for your persons; thus you shall do for my Memorial.


GOD'S WORD® Translation (©1995)

and spoke a prayer of thanksgiving. He broke the bread and said, "This is my body, which is given for you. Do this to remember me."


King James 2000 Bible (©2003)

And when he had given thanks, he broke it, and said, Take, eat: this is my body, which is broken for you: this do in remembrance of me.


American King James Version

And when he had given thanks, he broke it, and said, Take, eat: this is my body, which is broken for you: this do in remembrance of me.


American Standard Version

and when he had given thanks, he brake it, and said, This is my body, which is for you: this do in remembrance of me.


Douay-Rheims Bible

And giving thanks, broke, and said: Take ye, and eat: this is my body, which shall be delivered for you: this do for the commemoration of me.


Darby Bible Translation

and having given thanks broke it, and said, This is my body, which is for you: this do in remembrance of me.


English Revised Version

and when he had given thanks, he brake it, and said, This is my body, which is for you: this do in remembrance of me.


Webster's Bible Translation

And when he had given thanks, he broke it, and said, Take, eat: this is my body, which is broken for you: this do in remembrance of me.


Weymouth New Testament

and after giving thanks He broke it and said, "This is my body which is about to be broken for you. Do this in memory of me."


World English Bible

When he had given thanks, he broke it, and said, "Take, eat. This is my body, which is broken for you. Do this in memory of me."


Young's Literal Translation

and having given thanks, he brake, and said, 'Take ye, eat ye, this is my body, that for you is being broken; this do ye -- to the remembrance of me.'





Our Stickley Has a Headboard
Monday, September 19, 2016




Nina in her comfortable bed

Since I can remember I have slept in terrible beds. They did not have headboards or the mattress was on the floor. In my childhood I slept in a crib past the age of being a baby as my parents could not afford a regular bed.

In 1986 when Rosemary and I moved to our Kerrisdale home on Athlone Street our relatively comfortable (a bit soft) bed had no headboard. This meant that our head bumped every once in a while with the two window frames behind us.

Rosemary complained, on and on that she wanted to have a bed with a headboard.

When we moved to our present location in Kitsilano we decided to get a decent bed. Actually it is not a decent bed. It is an extremely good Stickley that we purchased at Jordans Interiors on West Broadway and Granville. Since then we have found nice and soft large pillows at the Bay from their Hotel Collection. We have a fine duvet cover. Casi-Casi has his own white bath mat from Ikea and he curls around it at the foot of our bed.

This Stickley has a large headboard so we can easily read our Vancouver Sun and New York Times every day with our daily breakfast in bed (a 15-year tradition).

Beds, beds & more beds



A monumental Vision Impure
Sunday, September 18, 2016



The Grumman A-6 Intruder was an American, twin jet-engine, mid-wing all-weather attack aircraft built by Grumman Aerospace. In service with the United States Navy and Marine Corps between 1963 and 1997, the Intruder was designed as an all-weather medium attack aircraft to replace the piston-engined Douglas A-1 Skyraider. As the A-6E was slated for retirement, its precision strike mission was taken over by the Grumman F-14 Tomcat equipped with a LANTIRN pod. From the A-6, a specialized electronic warfare derivative, the EA-6, was developed.
Wikipedia


Noam Gagnon, Dana Gingras - February 2005


It was only about a year ago that in a CNN newscast from an American aircraft carrier in the Mediterranean that I noticed the impossible-to-confuse EA-6 Prowler. What this meant is that an airplane that came into production in the earlier incarnation of the A-6 Intruder was in operation 53 years later. The airplane with renewed avionics was still an effective radar blocker.

A few weeks ago I was telling my friend composer John Oliver that I could no longer listen to any new version (either live or recorded) of Bach’s Concerto for 2 Violins in D minor, BWV 1043. Oliver said something close to this, “Alex you are done with it.

Part of the issue is that at age 74 all my fave Gerry Mulligan records and CDs are firmly ensconced in my memory. I don’t need to listen to them. They are in me, part of me. Only the visit of a friend who might not know of the wonders of Bach’s Double Violin Concerto or of Gerry Mulligan playing My Funny Valentine would lead me to play the music on my stereo.

I thought of all this when I read two reviews, on in my NY Times and the other on The Atlantic this week of The Holy Body Tattoo’s performance of monumental (originally labeled in lower case by Dana Gingras and Noam Gagnon at the Howard Gillman Opera House part of the Brooklyn Academy of Music’s Next Wave Festival.

The NY Times said, not a glowing review, of the performance which was an original 2005 work:

“it’s a good looking production.

Yet “monumental” was first staged, without the live music, in 2005 – when Blackberry was king, the iPhone was still a rumor, and the economic crash was three years off.  The way we work [ monumental is about working in an office in the that year and the loneliness and depersonalization of it], and worry about work, has changed since then; if anything, we’re more disconnected now, more aware of the ephemerality of employment. But with its army of miserable whit-collar drone, “monumental” feels stuck in the past.”

The Atlantic review was kinder. But it all made me think and think about that out-of context A-6 Intruder of 1963 and of the very title of the NY Times review – Setting a Squadron of Joyless Worker Drones to Music. Of drones even bees have been left behind by the new applications of drones to kill from afar electronically.

It all made me think that I would be reluctant to attend a performance of Giselle or Swan Lake. Yes, John Oliver would be right, “I have done them.”

When I saw monumental in Vancouver back in 2005 I was deeply affected by it and I recognized it as a wake-up call for the society of the time. Perhaps like the NY Times says, times are now worse therefore monumental is passé. And yet I believe that particularly in dance or in art, (imagine the uproar in Paris of the first exhibitions of the Impressionists!) does that diminish those Impressionists today in comparison with modern 21st century art? I don’t think so.

In some way the expiration date of monumental is the very explanation of its cutting edge of the time and its subsequent influence on dance in our present time.

Long after The Holy Body Tattoo split up I followed the sinewy and tight Noam Gagnon (his company is called Vision Impure). I look forward to his next presentation (perhaps a modification of the one I saw before) at the Vancouver Dance Centre, October 20-22 Vision Impure.

Noam Gagnon & wonderous Polaroids 
A Friday ritual of dance sushi & miso
The unhappy princess



     

Previous Posts
Open Letter to the Honourable David Eby, Premier o...

Bach - Buxtehude & Infinity

My Rosemary's Two Faces

The Musicality of Seeing - Tiko Kerr

My Early Easter Lillies - Rosemary Would Have Smiled

The Fly Enters an Open Mouth

Three Baroque Musicians, One Donkey & a Duke (me)

Bless My Two Daughters & My Two Cats, Too

Rosemary's Corsican Hellebore & Napoleon

Hollywood Deathbed Scenes - Not



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1/16/11 - 1/23/11

1/23/11 - 1/30/11

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11/13/11 - 11/20/11

11/20/11 - 11/27/11

11/27/11 - 12/4/11

12/4/11 - 12/11/11

12/11/11 - 12/18/11

12/18/11 - 12/25/11

12/25/11 - 1/1/12

1/1/12 - 1/8/12

1/8/12 - 1/15/12

1/15/12 - 1/22/12

1/22/12 - 1/29/12

1/29/12 - 2/5/12

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3/25/12 - 4/1/12

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5/13/12 - 5/20/12

5/20/12 - 5/27/12

5/27/12 - 6/3/12

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6/24/12 - 7/1/12

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11/25/12 - 12/2/12

12/2/12 - 12/9/12

12/9/12 - 12/16/12

12/16/12 - 12/23/12

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12/30/12 - 1/6/13

1/6/13 - 1/13/13

1/13/13 - 1/20/13

1/20/13 - 1/27/13

1/27/13 - 2/3/13

2/3/13 - 2/10/13

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2/24/13 - 3/3/13

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4/28/13 - 5/5/13

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5/26/13 - 6/2/13

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8/25/13 - 9/1/13

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11/24/13 - 12/1/13

12/1/13 - 12/8/13

12/8/13 - 12/15/13

12/15/13 - 12/22/13

12/22/13 - 12/29/13

12/29/13 - 1/5/14

1/5/14 - 1/12/14

1/12/14 - 1/19/14

1/19/14 - 1/26/14

1/26/14 - 2/2/14

2/2/14 - 2/9/14

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2/23/14 - 3/2/14

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3/23/14 - 3/30/14

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11/23/14 - 11/30/14

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12/21/14 - 12/28/14

12/28/14 - 1/4/15

1/4/15 - 1/11/15

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1/18/15 - 1/25/15

1/25/15 - 2/1/15

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11/22/15 - 11/29/15

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12/20/15 - 12/27/15

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1/10/16 - 1/17/16

1/31/16 - 2/7/16

2/7/16 - 2/14/16

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2/21/16 - 2/28/16

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5/22/16 - 5/29/16

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11/20/16 - 11/27/16

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12/11/16 - 12/18/16

12/18/16 - 12/25/16

12/25/16 - 1/1/17

1/1/17 - 1/8/17

1/8/17 - 1/15/17

1/15/17 - 1/22/17

1/22/17 - 1/29/17

1/29/17 - 2/5/17

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1/20/19 - 1/27/19

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8/21/22 - 8/28/22

8/28/22 - 9/4/22

9/4/22 - 9/11/22

9/11/22 - 9/18/22

9/18/22 - 9/25/22

9/25/22 - 10/2/22

10/2/22 - 10/9/22

10/9/22 - 10/16/22

10/16/22 - 10/23/22

10/23/22 - 10/30/22

10/30/22 - 11/6/22

11/6/22 - 11/13/22

11/13/22 - 11/20/22

11/20/22 - 11/27/22

11/27/22 - 12/4/22

12/4/22 - 12/11/22

12/18/22 - 12/25/22

12/25/22 - 1/1/23

1/1/23 - 1/8/23

1/15/23 - 1/22/23

1/22/23 - 1/29/23

1/29/23 - 2/5/23

2/5/23 - 2/12/23

2/12/23 - 2/19/23

2/19/23 - 2/26/23

2/26/23 - 3/5/23

3/5/23 - 3/12/23

3/12/23 - 3/19/23

3/19/23 - 3/26/23

3/26/23 - 4/2/23

4/2/23 - 4/9/23

4/9/23 - 4/16/23

4/16/23 - 4/23/23

4/23/23 - 4/30/23

4/30/23 - 5/7/23

5/7/23 - 5/14/23

5/14/23 - 5/21/23

5/21/23 - 5/28/23

5/28/23 - 6/4/23

6/4/23 - 6/11/23

6/11/23 - 6/18/23

6/18/23 - 6/25/23

6/25/23 - 7/2/23

7/2/23 - 7/9/23

7/9/23 - 7/16/23

7/16/23 - 7/23/23

7/23/23 - 7/30/23

7/30/23 - 8/6/23

8/6/23 - 8/13/23

8/13/23 - 8/20/23

8/20/23 - 8/27/23

8/27/23 - 9/3/23

9/3/23 - 9/10/23

9/10/23 - 9/17/23

9/17/23 - 9/24/23

9/24/23 - 10/1/23

10/1/23 - 10/8/23

10/8/23 - 10/15/23

10/22/23 - 10/29/23

10/29/23 - 11/5/23

11/5/23 - 11/12/23

11/12/23 - 11/19/23

11/19/23 - 11/26/23

11/26/23 - 12/3/23

12/3/23 - 12/10/23

12/10/23 - 12/17/23

12/17/23 - 12/24/23

12/24/23 - 12/31/23

12/31/23 - 1/7/24

1/7/24 - 1/14/24

1/14/24 - 1/21/24

1/21/24 - 1/28/24

1/28/24 - 2/4/24

2/4/24 - 2/11/24

2/11/24 - 2/18/24

2/18/24 - 2/25/24

2/25/24 - 3/3/24

3/3/24 - 3/10/24

3/10/24 - 3/17/24

3/17/24 - 3/24/24