Author: amoepheeng

People Watcher ( and III), four ages

While travelling on metro, there is a young man seated in front of me and I wonder, how will he be at 40? How different will be his future from the one he imagined? Maybe this unconformist student will become a financial executive, or on the contrary, he is attending a business school and later he will become shepherd. Or that gentleman, big and solemn, how was he like when a little boy playing soccer at the schoolyard and collecting beetles in a shoe box? Or, if there is a girl, with a dreamy look, how will she be at sixty? What sort of experiences will she have been through, what partners, who will have loved her, who will have made her suffer?

Somehow it’s about the exercise of projecting people to the “seven ages of life”, now reduced to four. There are precedents of that exercise, in Dickens’ Christmas Carol Scrooge is presented to different Christmas in his life, or in Borges’ tale “El Otro”, a 19 year old Borges from 1918 coincides in a bench with a 70 year old Borges.

What if for some minutes, the lapse between two metro stops, actually they would coincide there, sitting on the bench, 5 year old John, 20 year old, 40 and 70 year old, and they would see themselves reflected in the window facing them? Would the old man recognise himself in the other three or perhaps would have already forgotten them? Would he consider addressing them? The 40 year old would anticipate the old man he will become? The child would not, he would stare at the others as perfect strangers.

However, despite this difficulty in connecting, I believe that we are not just our present identity and role but that we accumulate the previous and anticipate the next ones, like when in a book, the chapter we are reading now is in the company of past chapters and expectations about what will the end chapter be like (In “Albertine disparue” Proust said that humans are amphibious beings that live simultaneaously in the past and in present reality).

So, like a (double) drunkard that sees double, sometimes I see people multiplied by four, each one in the company of the other three selves in other life ages.

Postcards from the terrace, late winter 2009

There has been the white narcissus, the strawberry tree, a new pine out of a nut, the mimosa, the viburnum and, just at the beginning of spring, the cherry tree has blossomed.

So many memories
flood my mind-
cherry blossoms

(Basho)

The company of a ladybird that settled in the terrace comforted me. It doesn’t seem to be very sociable. I hope its going to eat a lot of aphids.

 

People Watcher (II), Projects in hardware stores and more

My habit of people watcher, is concerned also with people’s projects.

I’ve allways enjoyed visiting big hardware stores and stare at the exhibition of tools, bolts, planks, pipes, fabrics. It’s a mix of Technology museum and Contemporary art. And as it happened with Art exhibitions, here too I like to watch the people when they ask  the salesman for help because they do not know the exact name for the item they need “I want a piece, U shaped of about 80 cm, I need to assemble …” while they hold in their hand a sketch with the plan for a particular artifact they conceived. Suddenly I see all the people around me as little engineers, creative inventors that have designed a solution to a problem. They are going to buy the items needed, saw, screw, assemble, until is built.

It just takes a bit of imagination to visualize like a cloud over them, holding their projects. Another place where I can detect people’s projects is furniture stores, like Ikea. Here too, you can see the people around, holding a little sketch with the design for a drawing room, bedroom, or kitchen. You can see young couples perhaps about to start living together, full of hope, others, renewing their kitchen, thinking how happy they will be in it, cooking delicious meals. And this leads me to another space where you can guess about people’s projects: the food market. In front of the fishmonger people hold also a list with the ingredients of a recipe, they look at prawls, angler, cuttlefish, seafood, and anticipate a delicious dish.

Actually, everywhere people have projects in mind, in some places they are easier to guess. You could add travel agencies where that man in a formal suite reads a brochure and pictures himself in shorts in a Caribean beach, or fashion shops where young girls consider buying a particular t-shirt and imagine herselves sexy and pretty in a club.

Almond Trees Blossom 2009. Mont-roig del Camp

My anual date with almond trees blossom has been at Mont-roig del Camp, where Miró used to spend their summer holidays.

There is a lovely little route that crosses fields with almond and olive trees.
In the old church there is an exhibition about the painter and directions to the locations related with some of his works. Here is  “La casa de la palmera”.

People Watcher ( I ). Secondary exhibitions in museums

Sometimes, when visiting a museum, I amuse myself with what could be called secondary exhibition. Besides the main or “primary” collection, I observe the other visitors as a kind of living “secondary exhibition”. Mentally could label them with tags such as “Youths starting to discover to joy of art”, “Kids carried by parents against their will, bored”, “Seasoned couple, probably with a whole life behind visiting museums”, etc. Quite often a gaze expressing wonder, intelligence or amusement  can be appreciated. The sight of people enjoying art is a beautiful,

Sometimes some real people can resemble a character in a particular painting. I still remember a girl standing at the door of a museum that striked me as a Botticelli’s Flora in Spring. Now I do often try to imagine to imagine the people around in a museum room, wearing ancient costumes unde r a spectial illumination, what would they look like if depicted by Jaume Huguet or Holbein the Younger. And the opposite too, the characters in the paintings, wandering around me in jeans and runners.

 

 

Besós Cathedral

 

Some months ago there was some discussion about demolishing thetermic power plant of Sant Adrià del Besós, no longerin use, for aesthetic reasons. Well, I’ve always admired the pureelegance of the three chimneys against the Maresme landscape and, ifthe authorities were so worried about aesthetics, they should dynamite the whole “Diagonal Mar” quartier, the outcome of theworst urbanism in Barcelona since the 60s atrocities.

The building is not the only attraction of the so called “Besos  Cathedral”, anonymous artists have left there works whose interest far exceeds what can be usually found at MACBA museum.

 

More pictures here

Death row, life row

Every year by All Saints Day we remember the deceased and perhaps, just for an instant, think about death. A great deal all philosophy and religion is a meditation on death. In literature there is the recent Nothing to be frightened of by Julian Barnes.

I remember some news about a book written by a Texas Death Row Chef. In the USA those going to be executed have the right to see their spiritual adviser, choose a last meal (a site with some examples: deadmaneating.blogspot.com and  prepare a last statement to be released (a list by the Texas department of criminal Justice).
I confess that I couldn’t resist the curiosity, whatever morbid, of taking a look at them. I feel justified when I realise that, as I’m not going to escape death, somehow I’m in the Death Row too. Last meal and statement are a good opportunity to think about one’s own attitude towards death.
Most of last meal requests are not elaborate cooking, just fast food, for instance “a bacon cheeseburger with jalapeños, french fries, two slices of apple pie with vanilla ice cream and sweetened iced tea” or “One whole fried chicken (extra crispy), salad with Thousand Island dressing, French toast, two diet Cokes, one apple pie, and French fries“ (Why diet coke?)
The problem of choosing one’s last menu is a reduced version of the question “What makes me happy?” after a “Carpe Diem” invitation. An extended version would include the possibility of choosing a last view or scene, listening to a particular music, perhaps a last trip to some place. I’m not sure what my elections would be. From the point of view of the last opportunity, everything seems precious, a sophisticated menu or just an apple, may be red wine and cheese; a last trip to a lake in the Pyrennees or contemplating the faces of people commuting to work in the morning.
Many of the last statements I’ve read express regret to the families of the victims killed, and love to their own. Often they have found comfort in religion. Some of them address too the other fellows on the Row and the wardens. Some declined the opportunity of making a statement and a few can’t help a profanity.

Yes I do.  To my family, to my friends, and people who have accepted me for being the person that I am.  To the Sullivan and Hayden families, I do not come here with the intention to make myself out to be a person that I am not.  I never claimed to be the best person.  I am not the best father, the best son, or the best friend in the world.  I did the best I could with what I had.  I come with no hate in my heart or bitterness.  To my family and to you people, I can only apologize for all the pain I caused you.  May God forgive us on this day.  I am ready when you are.

Yes. I just want to let you all know that I appreciate the love and support over the years. I will see you when you get there. Keep your heads up. To all the fellows on the Row, the same thing. Keep your head up and continue to fight. Same thing to all my pen friends and other friends, I love you all. I can taste it.

Uh, I don’t know, Um, I don’t know what to say.  I don’t know.  (pauses)  I didn’t know anybody was there.  Howdy.

The reading is devastating,  particularly for the frequent “I’m ready, Warden” at the end. This statement allows the condemned to release a balance, an account of life, ask forgiveness for the evil done and express affection. While it’s unlikely that most of us are going to make explicit such a balance, I guess that sometime we will think about people we did harm, whether intentionally or not, or people we would have liked to express affection, and did not. When I think what I would say it is not an easy exercise.
For those who really would like to do it, there is what is called a “legacy letter”, or “ethical will” where people express love, or regret and try to transmit their values. This can be particularly important in case of parents terminally ill that want to leave a guidance message for their children.
I said that somehow, as we cannot escape it, we too are living in the Death Row. It’s just the execution date is not fixed and, of course, our cell can be quite comfortable, perhaps a couch and TV set, some books and even a nice view. We can attend visitors or share the cell with whoever. We can cook the meals we want or even go out to a restaurant. No wardens are watching us, we can go out, wander, explore neighbourhoods, cities, mountains, rivers and go back only if we want to. There are so many differences that it reminds me of an old joke: “Waiter, please, cafè latte, but no milk, and instead of coffee, I’d like whisky”. Well that’s a whisky, not cafè latte. This is not Death Row, but Life Row!

 

The track of Life, emotional geographies

A life long GPS track would provide information about where we have been every minute, the geographical coordinates of the places we have been living in, places we have travelled to. But we wouldn’t know whether, at that particular time we were in a creative mood, or on the contrary, crossing spaces of routine following the crowd, enjoying leisure or enduring hard work, interested in projects or bored, happy or depressed. Those would be coordinates to locate in a vital or emotional geography. It could be something like this:

1. Following the crowd
2.Doped with entertainment
3.the plain of boredom
4.a deep hole of depression
5.carrying a heavy load up a steep hill, like Sisyphus
6.moving the waterwheel of routine
7.the delightful garden of love
8.the room of arts, science and literature
9.the creativity workshop, building projects
10.exploring wonders, landscapes, cultures
11.the yard of leisure, play and relax
12.on the cloud of ecstasy
Those poor scribbles have illustre precedents, most of them can be seen at the superb site strangemaps.
The german map of the Empire of Love (Reich der Liebe) de 1777, depicts trips from the Land of Youth, where there are the forest of love or the river of Wish, to other territories such as the Land of Rest, the Land of Mourning Love, with the Flood of Tears and Whim Mountain; the Land of Lust with Illness Valley, the wonderful Land of Happy Love where we can find  “Pleasant View”  or the fountain of Joy; Bachelor Country or the dangerous Land of Obsessions  with the City of Dreams. Who can deny having visited some of those lands?
There is also the french “Carte de Tendre”, with the geography of love, measured in “lieues d’amitié” (love miles). We follow the course of “Inclination River” from the “New Friendship” village to the city of Tendre-sur-Reconnaissance, crossing the towns of “Petits soins” or “Great Favours”, avoiding other places like the fortress of Pride, or the Village of Oblivion that could lead us to the Sea of Enmity or the Lac of Indifferance. Don’t you know someone that lost his way because of orientation difficulties?
And more recently, in 2004, by Grayson Perry, “Every englishman is an island” a geography of mind depicted as an island with the seas of mental disorders around. There regions such as Posh (where we find Classic FM, Chardonnay, Ioga), Sex, Romance and Love, Cliche, Dreams (motorbikes, sixties), Wishes or Fear. How would our map look like?

 

The history of my feet. GPS track

I have purchased a GPS so that I don’t get lost when I go trekking on my own. Now I could actually record the history of my feet. I imagine what would be if I had been recording it since I was born. I would have the track of all the places I have ever been: on my way to school, the playgrounds, visits to grandpa’s,

the places where we went on holidays,
the mountains I climbed.
On the whole, the track of life is like a big game of Goose where we progress from one space to the next one, sometimes slowly, sometimes a hard penalty, or a nice unexpected gift.