I was out all day Sunday and into the night; eight miles of walking in the rain, and when I got home the apartment was clammy like when it rains at a beach house during vacation and steals away some of the fun.
Revisiting the April trip, zooming back to Berlin, in black and white. We begin here in RAW-Gelande, the graffiti-clad playground to artists and DJs, just over the river in East Berlin..
Feeling a little Brutal(ism) on this corner, but in person it was a rather lovely building. blue sky reflecting in all the glass.
A stunning, lyrical façade rendered prickly and sere in the fading light and surround of winter tree branches.This cathedral is a hollow shell; was bombed heavily, during WWII, but much of the exterior remains in what is now a park.
I’ll eave you with the ethereal image below— rivulets streaming down from the apex of Viktoria Park, which was neighbor to us for our days in Berlin.
Two weekends ago, I spent some days in a fantastic waterside lodge for a wedding in south Georgia. Above, a view of the little lake. Mossed-draped trees trace menacing silhouettes across the water. This was late at night, and the frogs were singing— an orchestra louder than the nighttime city.
The lake, seen Saturday afternoon, just before the storm descended, bringing winds, thunder, lightning, and wide curtains of rain. I sat on the wide porch under its corrugated metal roof during the whole storm, and enjoyed the display immensely.
Everywhere in the lodge were taxidermied deer and various other beasts, giving the feeling of a hunting lodge (despite being hired out primarily for weddings).
The severed heads had been put on pikes for all and sundry to see; made examples of. The unseasonably warm autumn weather made grotesques of each— death masques submitting to rot and gravity; to the punishments meted by the state.
Passersby turned their heads, and covered their faces with kerchiefs, but there was no ignoring such a brutal and noisome spectacle.
Day seventeen : A crow lit in the yard for a moment, tentatively. It tested the wind, then flew off to an unknown destination; a hooded gleam in its eye.
Out the back window, where the trees climb higher than the roof, rain soft patterings on wet leaves; there is no wind today.
The leaves have not even begun to consider a change of wardrobe, as Summer lingers; couch surfing straight into October.
(This is from last week, when it was still in the 80ºs.)
There is a hum in the wires. It’s faint but if you close your eyes it’ll find you. It was there before the wires were strung, but in them it found a conduit. It’s elemental, but not the way you may think. It’s not the wind, either. Those forces are altogether different to what sings along these undulating lines.
Here are some images from a few months ago that I came across recently. Serene, the bright kind of overcast with a fine mist or drizzle. It’s a lovely thing to wander through neighborhoods I’ve wandered so many times before and see something in a way I never noticed before; or, literally, in new light.
I’ve still been drawing more than writing these days, though it’s not for lack of words. Things are percolating; they’re not ready yet. Day to day concerns and occupations monopolize, and everything less greedy or immediate must wait below decks. Cargo all but forgotten until the bills of lading come out and the crates are hauled up into daylight.
Some of what’s below the surface traces back to winter and early spring. The day I shot these was a fine one, but there was so much going through my head and I wanted none of it, was sick of it, so I gave over control to the senses, and found new details in things I’d walked past and even photographed many times before.