Still Breathing, The Series

We have a choice.

Allow gravity to get the better of us or jump high enough to orbit around it.

I choose the latter.

What about you?

My vehicle to gravity free living?

Creativity.

I am going to devote part of the day to working on my version of “Failure, The World Tour”.  I wish I had Epicurienne’s knowledge of food so I could pull out a fancy name for turning lemons into some heavenly poofy tasty dessert.

But, you get the drift, don’t you?  And, more importantly, do you want to join me?

Yes, a series.  A most important one.

How do you turn yourself away from doom and gloom?  What do you do to get above it all?  To get perspective?  To see the big picture?  To discover that you are not entirely of this material world?

Words or Images, please.

For example, If I didn’t already have this photo, I would have taken a photo of a piece of glass after I had expelled one or two breaths on it.  The transient fog/smoke on the glass I would have titled, “Still Breathing”.

Hence, the name of this series, “Still Breathing”.

All together now.

Breathe in through your nose.  Hold.

Slowly breathe out through your mouth.

Repeat until you agree to do something for this series, OK?

©Pat Coakley 2008

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Bail Out

Help is on the way, Kermie.

Kermie?

You’re not dead, are you, Kermie?

HEEEEEEEEELP!

©Pat Coakley 2008

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End of Summer

Oh, because it’s a series, that’s why.

Mt. Brooks with the avatar of a man without his shirt on is an occasional visitor here.  Sometimes I go to his site that has the word “rowboat” (ahem, I’m thirty years older, OK? ) in it and he is flying from here to there and showing pictures of his luxury or not so luxury hotels he stays in.  Since I’m practically a shut-in these days, I like traveling while sitting on my couch and reading how he deals with the rude stewardesses and the challenge of middle seats.

He’s involved with some sort of weekly photo series and the first assignment was “End of Summer”.  The one for next week is “Rain”.  So, here’s my entry for the first week and next week.  The last week was “glass” so   I’ll give you this because it combines Rain and Glass(windshield), two of my favorite things.  Here’s the thing, I’m not even sure he wants other people to submit photos.

But, if he does, then, I think I’m up to date!

Paul Newman died.

I sat next to his table once at a restaurant in San Francisco known for its brunch and some type of gin drink that was frothy.  I tried to pretend I was not staring.   I was with a group of friends who liked to drink and who pointed out to him that I was staring.  When he left and I finally went to the ladies room, I looked in the mirror and realized my friends had neglected to tell me that I was staring at Paul Newman with three layers of froth on my upper lip.

I don’t see these friends any more.

©Pat Coakley 2008

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A Visit to The Old North Church

A short walk from the Italian restaurants and bakeries of the North End of Boston, I sat in a pew at the Old North Church.  Yes, there was that Paul Revere oneth by land, twoeth by sea light signaling business from the top of the church that ushered in the American Revolution but, first things first, this high sided box pew made me feel safe and protected for a few minutes yesterday.

As our republic goes through its current economic and political crisis, I find it excruciating to read or listen to one more word about it.  The difference between me and Sarah Palin?  I know when I’m clueless.

So, yesterday, I went to visit a spot that helped give birth to our country in search of I don’t know what.   I sat down in one wooden box pew toward the back and looked at the tourists filming the chandeliers, the windows, the balcony.   A young man was at the front of the church giving a five minute talk about the church and its historical significance.  He was on speed delivery as there was a private event starting in five minutes and all of us had been warned that the church was going to close to the public for an hour and half.

I liked my pew.  It made me feel safe.  The sides were high and felt a bit like a small ship berthed in port.  The sense of safety came from the sheer presence of history around me.  It was built in 1723 and some of the marks on the floor appeared very old indeed.  It had endured.  We as a nation had endured.  I thought about ducking down and sitting on the floor while everyone left and the private event started.

I would have except if I got down on to the floor, I  was not absolutely confident  I could get back up on my own which is when my fleeting moment of safety and protection vanished.

This is pretty much how I feel about everything right at the moment.

I left the pew along with all the other camera toting visitors and went out to find me a big ol’ cannoli.

©Pat Coakley 2008

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Protection

Sometimes all of us just need to be protected.

This older sister guarded the younger from a single “bee” that kept buzzing.

Some of us need 700 billion to swat imminent doom away.

That’s alot of b’s.

©Pat Coakley 2008

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Minnie Pearl, age 3

©pat coakley 2008

I am babysitting today for Minnie Pearl, (not her real name, silly) age 3.  If the world goes to hell while I’m gone, I’m glad this is the last face I shall see.

She hugs my knees and looks up smiling and screeching (she is a loud one, I’ll admit) , “Paaaaaappppy, c’an wi color?”

Oh, yeah, we’re gonna color, Minnie girl, and go for a ride in your Hummer red wagon, (I am not kidding, we’ve come a long way from the little red wagon of my youth) and eat chips.

Oh, yes, we’ll pick up your sister from Kindergarten and go the library, too.  Then, we’ll play animals on the grounds of the lovely Endicott estate right near the library.  This game entails me sitting down (yea!) and I give orders of what animal I’d like brought to me immediately.

One bobcat, please.  Right now!

And, off they run to find the bobcat, which of course they do, and they bring it back on an imaginary leash and leave it to pant and slobber all over my legs.

They stand in front of me, eagerly awaiting their next mission.

Two giraffes, please.  Very tall.

Starbucks sorta thing, really, except you don’t wait as long for your order.

©Pat Coakley 2008

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Day & Night

Yesterday, I referred to the Spanish painter, Antonio Lopez Garcia.  This is one of two bronze head sculptures titled, “Day” (eyes open) and “Night” (eyes closed) out in front of the newly opened Fenway entrance to the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston.  The artist had an exhibit here in the Spring of 2008 and these heads were originally out in front of the Huntington Avenue entrance which is now closed due to a huge Museum expansion project.

Garcia did these sculptures (he had never ever done scultpures in this size before) in response to his grandchildren and they were completed uncharacteristically in a very timely manner.  He is well known for taking a very long time to finish his projects and even then, sometimes he does not finish.  I loved his attitude toward this phenomenon that might cause breakdowns in others: He says in the interview here that he does not apologize or agonize over things that are not completed.  He says, “You have to respect the reasons why the work was interrupted.”  He says that the layer upon layer of painting over something adds “weight’ to the evolving work.

In this same interview, he says his work is in response to  “something that bursts into my life that moves me” and that can be an open refrigerator, a bathroom, a table, a clothes rack.  In other words, simple, every day things.

He goes on to say that this foray into monumental scale in these bronze head sculptures he has found very interesting because although they are of his granchildren, the scale makes them transcend into a world where they become about many things, known or unkown.

When I left the museum yesterday, I had read nothing about these sculptures.  I wondered why they had been chosen to be outside the museum.  I wondered why the one with eyes open was facing west and the one with eyes closed was facing east.  I would have thought the reverse would have been right.

As I stood there, I thought well, here’s my reason that they were placed out in front.  Visiting a museum for me invariably leaves me feeling that my eyes are more fully open walking out than they were walking in.  I simply “see” in a different way as a result of exposure to the vision of the artists within.

When I got home, I googled my way through this artist and these sculptures.  They shall go from Boston to the Madrid train station where the terrorist bombings took place in 2005. Gulp.  I think this falls into the category of art in monumental scale taking on meaning, known and unkown, don’t you?

And, OH, YES, one more thing!  The artist said in one of the articles I read that the child’s head sculpture with the eyes open should be facing east.

“Yeah,” I said, polishing my brass buttons. “I knew it!”

© Pat Coakley 2008

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Underneath Boston

The same day of the scenic shots of Boston’s waterfront, I walked underneath a bridge less than 200 yards away from the Harborwalk that many pedestrians use during the day to go to Fan Pier, to the Courthouse,  to the Barking Crab restaurant or to and from Congress Street.

On this day there were the remnants of a coat or what appeared to have been a coat at least at one time.  From a distance, I thought it might have been someone sleeping.  When I got closer I realized whoever had once worn this coat appeared to have simply disintegrated within the coat itself.  It did not appear abandoned as much as just no longer inhabited.

Contrast this coat with one painted by the Spanish painter, Antonio Lopez Garcia, called “The Clothes Rack” that I had seen in an exhibit in Spring at the Museum of Fine Arts. (YOU NEED TO LOOK AT IT, PEOPLE!)   It bears striking resemblance to the grey coat in the right, and yet, what struck me, standing under this bridge, was despite this empty coat being similar in color, even very similar in shape– how lived in, vibrant and useful Garcia’s coat appears, despite being without his form beneath it. (The artist said it was his own clothing)

I stood for several minutes before I took the photograph.  Almost as if I was at a wake and in front of a casket.  This found coat, probably like its past owner, simply appears to no longer have a place or use in life.

A survey conducted in 2007 indicated that on one winter’s evening there were over 7000 homeless men, women and children in the city of Boston.

©Pat Coakley 2008

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Life Imitating Art

Sometimes it’s life imitating art outside the museum that catches my eye.

©Pat Coakley 2008

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Ladies, The Fantasy Bathroom

So, I am walking by the IMAX movie theatre, part of the Aquarium, on the waterfront in Boston and I see this circular, pod like structure.  I’m too far away to see “City Toilet” above the door.  What I do see is a young woman, jeans, jacket, long scarf wrapped around her neck, flush against this structure with her arms spread wide like she was hugging it.

Her husband or boyfriend laughs with their other friends, all of whom are speaking French.  She moves away from the structure and I see the man with the red “briefs” and that it says “City Toilet”.

The woman continued to roll her eyes and look back at her new love as they all laughed and walked off in the direction of Quincy Market, a well known stop for visitors to Boston.

I stood there and looked at the structure.  Ok.  I didn’t know there were public facilities in Boston at all.  We are not Paris or Amsterdam or even San Francisco.

But, after resolving to Google when I got home when exactly Boston brushed aside its prudish ways and acknowledged human nature (2001 as it turns out), I really just kept looking at the model in his red briefs myself.  I stood there for a long time.  I won’t lie.  I smiled and imagined this silver haired woman with a big camera hanging around her neck, flush up against the City Toilet, arms stretched out.  If the Police came for me, I’d say, “I am gauging the correct f stop, officer.”

“I bet you are Gramma, let’s go”, he’d say and gently peel me from the structure.

I fought the urge to welcome briefs man to Boston (this particular pod was only installed last May) and took this picture instead.  If someone has a better looking City Toilet photograph than this, I want to see it.  I’ve got to win the award on this one, don’t you think?  There were better manhole covers, top drawers, inside your refrigerator photos and more creative spins on paper bags, BUT, seriously, have you ever seen a better looking City Toilet in your life?

©Pat Coakley 2008

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