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




 

Lucrecia Emilia Ludovica Bermúdez De Castro Guerrero
Saturday, July 07, 2018


Lucrecia Emilia Ludovica Bermúdez de Castro Guerrero

A couple of blogs in the past I featured this beautiful Mexican woman. I had long forgotten her name. Here is the last blog.

But in this age of Google things happen that are unexpected:

I received this email:

Buenos días, la chica de Arturito se llamaba Lucrecia Emilia Ludovica 
Bermúdez de Castro Guerrero. Y si estuvo con Arturito en Canadá.
Mariana Bermúdez De Castro Galas
 
And so I answered:
 
Estimada Mariana,
Muchas gracias por darle nombre a mi foto.
Alex Waterhouse-Hayward 

To which Mariana replied: 
 
Es un honor para mi poder aportar a trabajo tan hermoso... Ella era muy especial. 

Which would suggest that our lovely woman is no longer with us.


 
 





Ow Challenged My Senses on Four Sides
Friday, July 06, 2018




On Wednesday July 4th I attended a preview performance of the Mascall Dance Company’s Ow.
It was at their headquarters on Jervis 1130 Jervis Street. Owe was performed in a large room (I was disappointed to not see the wonderful maize on the floor) in an unusual theatre on the round (not quite as there were four sides). I chose the side that had the video man, thinking he might know something. The fact is that just about any side was good.

During the 60 minute performance (there are 7 more including the one tonight as I write this on July 7 ) I attempted to count how many dancers were present. I had to call to find out that there were 19 in all.

Central to Ow were Billy Marchenski and Molly McDermott. I also spotted that contact improv wonder, Anne Cooper.

I am not a dance critic, if anything I am an amateur dance aficionado who has been seeing a lot of dance since 1991. I even remember seeing a Maypole dance performed by a pre-John Alleyne Ballet BC. I could not believe it! A lot of stuff has happened since then and I would affirm that Vancouver has an avant-garde dance scene with no maypoles in the horizon.

Since then I have seen a lot of work some of it difficult as was Chick Snipper’s Slab performed at the Cultch by three dancers not wearing a stitch of clothing (Anne Cooper was one of them).

While watching Ow I thought of Jennifer Mascall a woman with a gentle and inviting voice who is gracious and is (in my books) very classy. And yet this is the choreographer, who sometime back, had a dance performance that included a dancer swimming in a swimming pool.

Mascall cannot be pinned down and her works are never boring.

Owe was not but it was also challenging. The dancers seemed to be uttering words that appeared to be a manufactured language. The sound was courtesy of Stefan Smulovitz. The write-up on the Ow site explains that the work is a melding of sound with movement. And he did finish with some Piazzolla that pleased me lots.

But to me there was more. I spotted a smart phone held by one of the dancers. There was a lot of tension between Marchenski and McDermott. Perhaps Ow has all to do with human interaction, when explored how we move and how we speak. I am not sure if Marchenski and McDermott resolved their differences in communication at the end.

During the performance I remembered the first time I went to see the punk group the Subhumans perform and in particular two of their signature tunes, Fuck You! and Slave to My Dick. I was in a state of shock by the blast of loud sound shaking my ears and the rest of my body. When I left I felt shattered and numb.

Now when I listen to my Subhuman records I have to state here that while they don’t sound like Chopin they do not shock and I may even hum along.

I believe that Mascall’s Ow is something along the lines of those Subuman performances. Time will tell. Time will soften the work. Time will eventually bring me that aha! moment and I will understand.

Until then watching Ow in that four-sided room is challenging but it is a performance that will linger in my memory.

Mascall has been around and the proof of that is that I spotted both Karen Jamieson and Judith Garay.  I wonder what they thought of Ow?

























 






















The Topanga Café & East Coker
Thursday, July 05, 2018



Eaton's/Sears


extrañar



Del lat. extraneāre 'tratar como a un extraño'.



1. tr. Sentir la novedad de algo que usamos, echando de menos lo que nos es habitual. No he dormido bien porque extrañaba la cama.



2. tr. Echar de menos a alguien o algo, sentir su falta. Lloraba el niño extrañando a sus padres.



3. tr. Desterrar a país extranjero. U. t. c. prnl.



4. tr. Ver u oír con admiración o extrañeza algo. U. m. c. prnl.



5. tr. Afear, reprender.



6. tr. p. us. Apartar, privar a alguien del trato y comunicación que se tenía con él. U. t. c. prnl.



7. tr. desus. Rehuir, esquivar.



8. prnl. Rehusarse, negarse a hacer una cosa.
Diccionario de la Real Academia Española

Above is the Spanish definition of extrañar or to miss. The origin of the word is from Latin and it means to treat as a stranger. Somehow extrañar is more powerful in its pathos than the English equivalent to miss.

It is patently evident that one misses that which is gone. It can be a temporary one as when my Rosemary flies to Prince Edward Island with our two daugthers in a few weeks. I will miss her.

Vancouver is, I believe, a city where its inhabitants take stuff for granted until what they take for granted is gone. Vancouverites will tell you of the two previous incarnations of the Hotel Vancouver, of Eatons before it moved to what became Sears and now is Nordstrom.

I often feel like a bird in migration not being quite sure if the landmark I pass by is one that replaced a previous one. I can drive on Richards and Davie and see in my mind the former building that housed Vancouver Magazine and Western Living.

Vancouver is well known for keeping parts of inimitable places. So the sign that advertised the Smilin Buddha is kept somewhere. This somehow is supposed to calm our unsettling reaction to inevitable change.

And so there are all those city dwellers decrying the burning down yesterdayof the Topanga Café on 4th.

I went there once with my friend Marv Newland. Since I lived in Mexico for many years I found the California version of Mexican dishes there not memorable and I never returned.

It is interesting to note that topanga is a Native-American term for where the mountain meets the sea. The name of the restaurant, then was most appropriate.

Seeing the hole left by the fire reminds me of being invited for a barbecue lunch by broadcaster Jack Webster in his home on Salt Spring Island. He started his charcoal fire with cedar shingles commonly used in BC for roofing.

What is curious about the fire is that yesterday I went to Macleod’s Books and purchased T.S. EliotThe Complete Poems and Plays – 1909 – 1950. I bought it because it contains my favourite Four Quartets. One of them, East Coker, the second one, begins thusly:

In my beginning is my end. In succession

Houses rise and fall, crumble, are extended,

Are removed, destroyed, restored, or in their place

Is an open field, or a factory, or a by-pass.

Old stone to new building, old timber to new fires,

Old fires to ashes, and ashes to the earth

Which is already flesh, fur, and faeces,

Bone of man and beast, cornstalk and leaf.

Houses live and die: there is a time for building

And a time for living and for generation

And a time for the wind to break the loosened pane

And to shake the wainscot where the field mouse trots

And to shake the tattered arras woven with a silent motto.

The picture of Jo-Ann on the roof of my former studio on Robson and Granville came about my missing the hot sun of Mexico and of Edward Weston's photograph of Tina Modotti on the roof of his house in Mexico City.





Un Azul Para Marte - José Saramago
Wednesday, July 04, 2018

Andrea en azul

Me encanta poder encontrar algo escrito para acompañar mis fotos. Me gustan las poesias de Jorge Luís Borges, Julio Cortázar, Emily Dickinson y Homero Aridjis. Aunque algo sé de escribir no tengo el talento necesario para idear algo  que al menos seacomparable con mi foto. He agotado el azul con los poetas ya mencionados. Hoy encontré, en un rincón inesperado, un cuentito de ciencia ficción de José Saramago sobre la falta del azul y otros colores en Marte.


Un Azul para Marte
José Saramago

Anoche hice un viaje a Marte. Pasé allí diez años (
si la noche dura en los polos seis meses,
no    por  qué  no  han  de  caber  diez  años  en  una  noch
e  marciana)  y  tomé  muchas  notas
sobre  la  vida  que  allí  llevan.  Me  comprometí  a  no  d
ivulgar  los  secretos  de  los  marcianos,
pero voy a faltar a mi palabra. Soy hombre y deseo
contribuir, en la medida de mis escasas
fuerzas, al progreso de la humanidad a la que enorg
ullece pertenecer. Este punto es muy,
muy  importante.  Y  espero,  si  algún  día  los  marciano
s  me  vienen  a  pedir  cuentas  de  mis
actos, es decir, del perjuicio cometido, que los no
 sé cuantos billones de hombres y mujeres
que hay en la tierra se apresten, todos, a mi defen
sa. En Marte, por ejemplo, cada marciano
es  responsable  de  todos  los  marcianos.  No  estoy  seg
uro  de  haber  entendido  bien  qué
quiere  decir  esto,  pero  mientras  estuve  allí  (y  fue
ron  diez  años,  repito),  nunca  vi  que  un
marciano  se  encogiera  de  hombros.  (He  de  aclarar  qu
e  los  marcianos  no  tiene  hombros,
pero  seguro  que  el  lector  me  entiende.)  Otra  cosa  q
ue  me  gustó  en  Marte  es  que  no  hay
guerras.  Nunca  las  hubo.  No    como  se  las  arreglan
  y  tampoco  ellos  supieron
explicármelo;  quizá  porque  yo  no  fui  capaz  de  aclar
arles  qué  es  una  guerra,  según  los
patrones de la tierra. Hasta cuando les mostré dos
animales salvajes luchando (también los
hay  en  Marte),  con  grandes  rugidos  y  dentelladas  si
guieron  sin  entenderlo.  A  todas  mis
tentativas  de  explicación  por  analogía,  respondían
que  los  animales  son  animales  y  los
marcianos  son  marcianos.  Y  desistí.  Fue  la  única  ve
z  que  casi  dudé  de  la  inteligencia  de
aquella gente. Con todo, lo que más me desorientó e
n Marte fue el no saber qué era campo
y qué era ciudad. Para un terrestre eso es una expe
riencia muy desagradable, os lo aseguro.
Acaba uno por habituarse, pero se tarda. Al fin, ya
 no me causaba extrañeza alguna ver un
gran  hospital  o  un  gran  museo  o  una  gran  universida
d  (los  marcianos  tienen  esto,  como
nosotros)  en  lugares  para    inesperados.  Al  princi
pio,  cuando  yo  pedía  explicaciones,  la
respuesta  era  siempre  la  misma:  el  hospital,  la  uni
versidad,  el  museo  estaban  allí  porque
eran precisos. Tantas veces me dieron esta respuest
a que pensé que mejor sería aceptar con
naturalidad, por ejemplo, la existencia de una escu
ela, con diez profesores marcianos, en un
sitio donde solo había un niño, también marciano, c
laro. No pude callar, desde luego, que
me  parecía  un  desperdicio  que  hubiera  diez  profesor
es  para  un  alumno,  pero  ni  así  los
convencí. Me respondieron que cada profesor enseñab
a una asignatura diferente, y que la
cosa  era  lógica.  En  Marte  les  impresionó  saber  que
en  la  tierra  hay  siete  colores
fundamentales  de  los  que  se  pueden  sacar  millones  d
e  tonos.  Allí  sólo  hay  dos:  blanco  y
negro (con todas las gradaciones intermedias), y el
los sospecharon siempre que habría más.
Me  aseguraron  que  era  lo  único  que les faltaba para
 ser completamente felices. Y aunque
me  hicieron  jurar  que  no  hablaría  de  lo  que  por  all
á  vi,  estoy  seguro  de  que  cambiarían
todos los secretos de Marte por el proceso de obten
er un azul. Cuando salí de Marte, nadie
vino a acompañarme a la puerta. Creo que, en el fon
do, no nos hacen caso. Ven de lejos
nuestro  planeta,  pero  están  muy  ocupados  con  sus  pr
opios  asuntos.  Me  dijeron  que  no
pensarán en viajes espaciales hasta que no conozcan
 todos los colores. Es extraño ¿no? Por
mi  parte,  ahora  tengo  dudas.  Podría  llevarles  un  pe
dazo  de  azul  (un  jirón  de  cielo  o  un
pedazo de mar), pero ¿y después? Seguro que se nos
vienen aquí, y tengo la impresión de
que esto no les va a gustar.



     

Previous Posts
My Photographic Lineage With Lisa

Remembrance - Not

The Potentiality of a Rosebud

The Darkroom & the Glove

Beauty in Fall Decay

A Post-Halloween-Pre-Christmassy-Rant

No Tigers, Clowns or Brass Bands - Backbone a Circ...

Béatrice Larrivé - a Ghost at the Vancouver Playho...

Costumbrismo - Laurence Gough, Mario Vargas Llosa ...

Alex - the Serial Bombmaker



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3/4/12 - 3/11/12

3/11/12 - 3/18/12

3/18/12 - 3/25/12

3/25/12 - 4/1/12

4/1/12 - 4/8/12

4/8/12 - 4/15/12

4/15/12 - 4/22/12

4/22/12 - 4/29/12

4/29/12 - 5/6/12

5/6/12 - 5/13/12

5/13/12 - 5/20/12

5/20/12 - 5/27/12

5/27/12 - 6/3/12

6/3/12 - 6/10/12

6/10/12 - 6/17/12

6/17/12 - 6/24/12

6/24/12 - 7/1/12

7/1/12 - 7/8/12

7/8/12 - 7/15/12

7/15/12 - 7/22/12

7/22/12 - 7/29/12

7/29/12 - 8/5/12

8/5/12 - 8/12/12

8/12/12 - 8/19/12

8/19/12 - 8/26/12

8/26/12 - 9/2/12

9/2/12 - 9/9/12

9/9/12 - 9/16/12

9/16/12 - 9/23/12

9/23/12 - 9/30/12

9/30/12 - 10/7/12

10/7/12 - 10/14/12

10/14/12 - 10/21/12

10/21/12 - 10/28/12

10/28/12 - 11/4/12

11/4/12 - 11/11/12

11/11/12 - 11/18/12

11/18/12 - 11/25/12

11/25/12 - 12/2/12

12/2/12 - 12/9/12

12/9/12 - 12/16/12

12/16/12 - 12/23/12

12/23/12 - 12/30/12

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

2/10/13 - 2/17/13

2/17/13 - 2/24/13

2/24/13 - 3/3/13

3/3/13 - 3/10/13

3/10/13 - 3/17/13

3/17/13 - 3/24/13

3/24/13 - 3/31/13

3/31/13 - 4/7/13

4/7/13 - 4/14/13

4/14/13 - 4/21/13

4/21/13 - 4/28/13

4/28/13 - 5/5/13

5/5/13 - 5/12/13

5/12/13 - 5/19/13

5/19/13 - 5/26/13

5/26/13 - 6/2/13

6/2/13 - 6/9/13

6/9/13 - 6/16/13

6/16/13 - 6/23/13

6/23/13 - 6/30/13

6/30/13 - 7/7/13

7/7/13 - 7/14/13

7/14/13 - 7/21/13

7/21/13 - 7/28/13

7/28/13 - 8/4/13

8/4/13 - 8/11/13

8/11/13 - 8/18/13

8/18/13 - 8/25/13

8/25/13 - 9/1/13

9/1/13 - 9/8/13

9/8/13 - 9/15/13

9/15/13 - 9/22/13

9/22/13 - 9/29/13

9/29/13 - 10/6/13

10/6/13 - 10/13/13

10/13/13 - 10/20/13

10/20/13 - 10/27/13

10/27/13 - 11/3/13

11/3/13 - 11/10/13

11/10/13 - 11/17/13

11/17/13 - 11/24/13

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

2/9/14 - 2/16/14

2/16/14 - 2/23/14

2/23/14 - 3/2/14

3/2/14 - 3/9/14

3/9/14 - 3/16/14

3/16/14 - 3/23/14

3/23/14 - 3/30/14

3/30/14 - 4/6/14

4/6/14 - 4/13/14

4/13/14 - 4/20/14

4/20/14 - 4/27/14

4/27/14 - 5/4/14

5/4/14 - 5/11/14

5/11/14 - 5/18/14

5/18/14 - 5/25/14

5/25/14 - 6/1/14

6/1/14 - 6/8/14

6/8/14 - 6/15/14

6/15/14 - 6/22/14

6/22/14 - 6/29/14

6/29/14 - 7/6/14

7/6/14 - 7/13/14

7/13/14 - 7/20/14

7/20/14 - 7/27/14

7/27/14 - 8/3/14

8/3/14 - 8/10/14

8/10/14 - 8/17/14

8/17/14 - 8/24/14

8/24/14 - 8/31/14

8/31/14 - 9/7/14

9/7/14 - 9/14/14

9/14/14 - 9/21/14

9/21/14 - 9/28/14

9/28/14 - 10/5/14

10/5/14 - 10/12/14

10/12/14 - 10/19/14

10/19/14 - 10/26/14

10/26/14 - 11/2/14

11/2/14 - 11/9/14

11/9/14 - 11/16/14

11/16/14 - 11/23/14

11/23/14 - 11/30/14

11/30/14 - 12/7/14

12/7/14 - 12/14/14

12/14/14 - 12/21/14

12/21/14 - 12/28/14

12/28/14 - 1/4/15

1/4/15 - 1/11/15

1/11/15 - 1/18/15

1/18/15 - 1/25/15

1/25/15 - 2/1/15

2/1/15 - 2/8/15

2/8/15 - 2/15/15

2/15/15 - 2/22/15

2/22/15 - 3/1/15

3/1/15 - 3/8/15

3/8/15 - 3/15/15

3/15/15 - 3/22/15

3/22/15 - 3/29/15

3/29/15 - 4/5/15

4/5/15 - 4/12/15

4/12/15 - 4/19/15

4/19/15 - 4/26/15

4/26/15 - 5/3/15

5/3/15 - 5/10/15

5/10/15 - 5/17/15

5/17/15 - 5/24/15

5/24/15 - 5/31/15

5/31/15 - 6/7/15

6/7/15 - 6/14/15

6/14/15 - 6/21/15

6/21/15 - 6/28/15

6/28/15 - 7/5/15

7/5/15 - 7/12/15

7/12/15 - 7/19/15

7/19/15 - 7/26/15

7/26/15 - 8/2/15

8/2/15 - 8/9/15

8/9/15 - 8/16/15

8/16/15 - 8/23/15

8/23/15 - 8/30/15

8/30/15 - 9/6/15

9/6/15 - 9/13/15

9/13/15 - 9/20/15

9/20/15 - 9/27/15

9/27/15 - 10/4/15

10/4/15 - 10/11/15

10/18/15 - 10/25/15

10/25/15 - 11/1/15

11/1/15 - 11/8/15

11/8/15 - 11/15/15

11/15/15 - 11/22/15

11/22/15 - 11/29/15

11/29/15 - 12/6/15

12/6/15 - 12/13/15

12/13/15 - 12/20/15

12/20/15 - 12/27/15

12/27/15 - 1/3/16

1/3/16 - 1/10/16

1/10/16 - 1/17/16

1/31/16 - 2/7/16

2/7/16 - 2/14/16

2/14/16 - 2/21/16

2/21/16 - 2/28/16

2/28/16 - 3/6/16

3/6/16 - 3/13/16

3/13/16 - 3/20/16

3/20/16 - 3/27/16

3/27/16 - 4/3/16

4/3/16 - 4/10/16

4/10/16 - 4/17/16

4/17/16 - 4/24/16

4/24/16 - 5/1/16

5/1/16 - 5/8/16

5/8/16 - 5/15/16

5/15/16 - 5/22/16

5/22/16 - 5/29/16

5/29/16 - 6/5/16

6/5/16 - 6/12/16

6/12/16 - 6/19/16

6/19/16 - 6/26/16

6/26/16 - 7/3/16

7/3/16 - 7/10/16

7/10/16 - 7/17/16

7/17/16 - 7/24/16

7/24/16 - 7/31/16

7/31/16 - 8/7/16

8/7/16 - 8/14/16

8/14/16 - 8/21/16

8/21/16 - 8/28/16

8/28/16 - 9/4/16

9/4/16 - 9/11/16

9/11/16 - 9/18/16

9/18/16 - 9/25/16

9/25/16 - 10/2/16

10/2/16 - 10/9/16

10/9/16 - 10/16/16

10/16/16 - 10/23/16

10/23/16 - 10/30/16

10/30/16 - 11/6/16

11/6/16 - 11/13/16

11/13/16 - 11/20/16

11/20/16 - 11/27/16

11/27/16 - 12/4/16

12/4/16 - 12/11/16

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

2/5/17 - 2/12/17

2/12/17 - 2/19/17

2/19/17 - 2/26/17

2/26/17 - 3/5/17

3/5/17 - 3/12/17

3/12/17 - 3/19/17

3/19/17 - 3/26/17

3/26/17 - 4/2/17

4/2/17 - 4/9/17

4/9/17 - 4/16/17

4/16/17 - 4/23/17

4/23/17 - 4/30/17

4/30/17 - 5/7/17

5/7/17 - 5/14/17

5/14/17 - 5/21/17

5/21/17 - 5/28/17

5/28/17 - 6/4/17

6/4/17 - 6/11/17

6/11/17 - 6/18/17

6/18/17 - 6/25/17

6/25/17 - 7/2/17

7/2/17 - 7/9/17

7/9/17 - 7/16/17

7/16/17 - 7/23/17

7/23/17 - 7/30/17

7/30/17 - 8/6/17

8/6/17 - 8/13/17

8/13/17 - 8/20/17

8/20/17 - 8/27/17

8/27/17 - 9/3/17

9/3/17 - 9/10/17

9/10/17 - 9/17/17

9/17/17 - 9/24/17

9/24/17 - 10/1/17

10/1/17 - 10/8/17

10/8/17 - 10/15/17

10/15/17 - 10/22/17

10/22/17 - 10/29/17

10/29/17 - 11/5/17

11/5/17 - 11/12/17

11/12/17 - 11/19/17

11/19/17 - 11/26/17

11/26/17 - 12/3/17

12/3/17 - 12/10/17

12/10/17 - 12/17/17

12/17/17 - 12/24/17

12/24/17 - 12/31/17

12/31/17 - 1/7/18

1/7/18 - 1/14/18

1/14/18 - 1/21/18

1/21/18 - 1/28/18

1/28/18 - 2/4/18

2/4/18 - 2/11/18

2/11/18 - 2/18/18

2/18/18 - 2/25/18

2/25/18 - 3/4/18

3/4/18 - 3/11/18

3/11/18 - 3/18/18

3/18/18 - 3/25/18

3/25/18 - 4/1/18

4/1/18 - 4/8/18

4/8/18 - 4/15/18

4/15/18 - 4/22/18

4/22/18 - 4/29/18

4/29/18 - 5/6/18

5/6/18 - 5/13/18

5/13/18 - 5/20/18

5/20/18 - 5/27/18

5/27/18 - 6/3/18

6/3/18 - 6/10/18

6/10/18 - 6/17/18

6/17/18 - 6/24/18

6/24/18 - 7/1/18

7/1/18 - 7/8/18

7/8/18 - 7/15/18

7/15/18 - 7/22/18

7/22/18 - 7/29/18

7/29/18 - 8/5/18

8/5/18 - 8/12/18

8/12/18 - 8/19/18

8/19/18 - 8/26/18

8/26/18 - 9/2/18

9/2/18 - 9/9/18

9/9/18 - 9/16/18

9/16/18 - 9/23/18

9/23/18 - 9/30/18

9/30/18 - 10/7/18

10/7/18 - 10/14/18

10/14/18 - 10/21/18

10/21/18 - 10/28/18

10/28/18 - 11/4/18

11/4/18 - 11/11/18

11/11/18 - 11/18/18