Hoboken & Right Here

18 August 2021 – Well, there’s a stretch. I’ve never visited Hoboken or even had cause to think about it, not until bluebrightly and I entered into some chatter about one of the images in my Murals & Time Travel post.

It showed vine and ripening berries rampaging all over a chainlink fence, and I had soared off into some fantasy about city-as-art-installation. Bluebrightly commented that, instead, she thought of it as an example of nature taking over.

She added, “I always loved stubborn manifestations like that. In the industrial city of Hoboken, New Jersey, across the river from NYC, there was an Ailanthus tree growing out of the old train station roof. And Tansies along the railroad tracks. Probably all gone now, since Hoboken became popular.”

I replied that it made me think of a particular take-over moment in an alley right here, back in June 2020.

This moment:

So here’s to stubborn, insistent nature, in Hoboken, Vancouver & everywhere else.

Blossoms With Attitude

27 April 2021 – It’s the height of cherry blossom season here, so the whole city is pretty in pink. But pretty-pretty is not the whole message.

First, there’s the sublime indifference to COVID. Our assorted cherry blossom festivals may once again be cancelled, but the trees bloom anyway. Take that, virus! Very comforting, very encouraging.

And then there are all the other messages. I tell you, these blossoms have attitude.

There’s over-the-top bravura: “I own the street.”

There’s elegant restraint: “I craft one perfect nosegay.”

There’s narcissism: “Ready for my close-up, Mr. DeMille.”

There’s even the civic irresponsibility of the litterbug: “What? What’s your problem?”

And then, turn down an alley, and it’s a whole different pink.

With an attitude of street-punk defiance.

As in: “So I’m not a cherry tree and nobody planted me or looks after me and there’s no festival in my name and … yah… okay … I’m a weed.

“But here I am.”

I like it a lot.

What the Leopard Spotted

6 February 2017 – Leopard. Spotted. Get it, get it? (Painful nudge in the ribs.) Painful play on words, too, but as seasoned readers know, I am linguistically shameless.

And he is one terrific leopard.

detail of mural, n. side Gerrard just e. of Broadview

I’m walking east on Gerrard, just east of Broadview, mildly surprised to find myself here since I’d meant to get off the streetcar at Danforth but … um … for some dozy reason bailed several stops too soon.

And I am rewarded with this leopard! Detail of a larger mural, the rest of it depicting Chichén Itza, but all I want is the leopard.

So now let’s pretend that he is our guide, our spotter, for the rest of the walk.

A whole flurry of words comes next, as many words as a leopard has spots, you might say.

n. side of Gerrard, e. of Broadview

I confess I still haven’t read every last syllable. So you don’t have to, either. We can still enjoy the conviction, the exuberance, not to mention the steady hand, that transferred all that verbiage from someone’s whirlygig brain to a convenient wall.

And now the leopard & I pad our way softly north to Danforth, and eastward again.

Where we meet more words — but only a chosen few. By a master of words. And curated by an institution devoted to words.

in front of Re:Reading, 548 Danforth

We pause at Greenwood now, leopard & I, just north of Danforth, edge of an alley, and spot another mural. Lots of activity in this one, all of it advertising Lucsculpture School and Studios (“relief through creativity” says the home page).

I like this detail best. Luc himself, I assume.

on alley wall side of Lucsculpture, Greenwood just n. of Danforth

Into the alley.

For a hit of pure alleyscape. A not-very-accomplished red face (or something) on a scruffy doorway, framed by other graffiti scrawls & a chipped black grill locked around a rear staircase. Plus a demure, nicely polished, good-taste, late-model automobile.

alley e. fro Greenwood n. of Danforth

I can’t justify it. I just like it. Sometimes — for me anyway — it’s the juxtaposition of independent elements that creates the art.

Farther down the alley, for a couple of moments of cliché that transcend cliché.

The first cliché is the image, a scrawled face that I have seen on oh-so-many alley walls by now. It’s the gate that rescues it. I dance back & forth, hurriedly adjusting — oops — for the ice beneath my feet, and find the spot that amuses me.

same alley, farther east

Peek-a-boo!

The second cliché is the phrase uttered by a man passing by, who, having called out “Hullo!” then urges me to “Have a nice day.” And he is so cheerful, so meaning the words, that he rescues the phrase. I find myself saying it right back to him.

Then we both smile, and walk on.

 

  • WALKING… & SEEING

    "Traveller, there is no path. Paths are made by walking" -- Antonio Machado (1875-1939)

    "The voyage of discovery is not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes" -- Marcel Proust (1871-1922)

    "A city is a language, a repository of possibilities, and walking is the act of speaking that language, of selecting from those possibilities" -- Rebecca Solnit, "Wanderlust: A History of Walking"

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