With friends and with social media I keep my political and religious beliefs to myself. I don’t understand protest art. Some years ago I went to an opening at the Museum of Anthropology of Indigenous artist Michael Nicoll Yahgulanaas. In his presentation he told us that one of the principal objectives of art was to make us smile. I was astounded by his honest lack of hocus pocus.
I rarely take photographs that are ugly or show ugliness.
I am illustrating this blog with what might seem an odd combination of people, my Rosemary and Arthur Erickson.
While I will place this blog to fill a hole on15 March I am writing it at 12:30 tonight 19 March.
When I turned off my lights and my cats got close I did what I do every night which is to think that Rosemary is “not here” and she once was.
Both she and I knew that we would never see each other again after our deaths. If there will be any relief in me not thinking or grieving of her loss it will only happen when I am dead.
I believe (me) that while I do not fear death I fear the impossibility of not being able to think about not thinking, about not feeling to feel, about not seeing to see. To think of nonexistence is perhaps against our genes.
At the same time I understand that while I am alive my thoughts and memories of Rosemary make her somehow to be alive in my presence by the very absent presence of her not being by my side when I turn off the light.
All that made me think of Arthur Erickson. I photographed him so many times that we became friends. At a function hosted by Diane Farris at a second location of her gallery (much smaller and down the block) I noticed that Erickson was sitting alone at a table. It seemed that nobody wanted to sit with a man that had Alzheimer’s. I sat down and said, “Arthur it seems to me that your architecture had some inspiration from the Spanish/Mexican architect Felix Candela. He smiled and we talked for close to an hour. We discussed Candela’s pioneer work in the hyperbolic paraboloid structures called hypars that featured curved roofs that were thin but strong. We discussed that because of the calculus and and a varying slope, straight lines could produce curves.
For as long as I am alive and thinking I will never forget that intelligent conversation I had with the man. Tonight, just like Rosemary was alive because of my thoughts of him. I can remember his radio voice, his perfect diction and that smile of his.
Yes, Erickson and Rosemary are with me tonight.
