Driving through Brocton

After our opening at the Octagon Gallery in Westfield on Friday, we headed to Fredonia for dinner and drinks with friends.  Deb’s friend Steve rode with Allen and me to make sure we didn’t get lost.  Along the way we passed through Brocton, a tiny village within the town of Portland in Chautauqua County.  It would have been easy to overlook Brocton all together if we’d been driving through during the day, but at night its old store fronts and abandoned businesses seem fantastically lit by a combination of rickety street lights and the stars in the sky.

I quickly snapped half a dozen mental images as we whizzed down E. Main Street which cuts Brocton in half along Rout 20.  Just as we reached the end of the strip, Allen insisted we turn around so I could take a picture of something he had seen.  We circled around and I grabbed this shot.  Allen felt the connection to my work would be interesting to me, and he was right.  It’s an abandoned doll shop Called Pegg’s Enchanted Doll House and Hospital.  I can’t wait to go back some night and take more pictures in Brocton.

Facebook, Internet Memes and Situationist Slogans

When aliens try to learn about Earthlings by looking at facebook, they will think we are all ecstatically happy and that we compulsively “like” just about everything we encounter. Even our status updates about life, love, politics and the world around us are delivered at a pace resembling a frenzied heartbeat. Multitudes of saccharin comments accumulate like deep breathing methods, but they can’t tame the palpitations that fuel our compulsion to remain engaged in this kind of super-charged, yet ultimately empty communication.

At the end of the day, I am the first to admit that I enjoy facebook. I appreciate all that it has to offer, especially when it comes to staying in touch with friends and associates in the arts and of course family. For the most part, I use it solely as a networking tool and it’s negative aspects are easily kept at bay. You can specify a certain audience for each bit of content you put out there, so you don’t have to worry about offending your boss or your grandmother. Since my expectations about the level of meaningful interaction within social media in general are low, I’m rarely overly disappointed with my experience using it.

With all of that said, I also think it’s important to look at the big picture where these kinds of phenomena in our lives are concerned. There are endless contributing factors to how we got here. Facebook itself has contributed greatly to the recent rise in popularity of internet memes who’s culture jamming effects are reminiscent of the impact the Situationist International’s slogans had on daily life, mostly in Europe in the 1950s and 60s. As part of a specific agenda associated with opposing capitalism, the SI’s slogans were a big part of the 1968 uprisings in Paris. The slogans became a part of daily life in the form of graffiti when quotations from two situationist books, The Society of the Spectacle (1967) by Guy Debord and On the Poverty of Student Life (1966) by Mustapha Khayati, were written on the sides of buildings and subway walls of Paris.

Many of the SI slogans could easily be internet memes of today:

Actual Graffiti Found on Paris’ Walls in May, 1968

Don’t beg for the right to live — take it.
Those who make revolutions half way only dig their own graves.
No replastering, the structure is rotten.
The passion of destruction is a creative joy.
Conservatism is a synonym for rottenness and ugliness.
Those who lack imagination cannot imagine what is lacking.
Unbutton your mind as often as your fly.
Professors, you make us grow old.
Terminate the university
The bourgeoisie has no other pleasure than to degrade all pleasures.

Below is a gallery of images I pulled randomly from Google Images with the search query “Situationist Slogans” typed in.

Sweet Nadja

When Nadja got sick in the Summer of 2010, the Vet helped me keep her alive and, for the most part, pain free with fluid injections that I administered daily for a little over a year.  I was so grateful to have that extra time with her and it helped me to prepare somewhat for what was to come.

On July 25, 2011 (one year ago today) Nadja left this world and went on to new adventures.  I was struck with a sadness that I’ve never known.  It took months for the pain in my heart to ease.  My eyes still well up sometimes when I think of her.   It’s a very sweet sadness, though.  I’ve found that it’s a great joy to hold her in my heart and keep my memories of the 16 years she spent with me close.  I enjoy her visits occasionally in my dreams and the little things that bring her to mind.  Nadja is gone, but she will never disappear. 

“Grief makes one hour ten.”
William Shakespeare

“The problem with loving is that pets don’t last long enough
and people last too long.”
Anonymous

Looking to See

I encountered this scene a couple of summers ago when Allen and I were guests in the summer home of a colleague of his near New Palz, NY.   It’s a modest little hideaway and serves as a quiet writing spot for our host who spends most of his time in Manhattan.

Looking to See II by Molly Jarboe
Looking to See II by Molly Jarboe

The house is nestled at the bottom of a hill, along side a serene swimming hole at Rondout Creek.  You have to drive well into the woods, and maneuver down a winding dirt road that leads right to the front yard. The rushing water from the creek can be heard from every room inside.

We were there for a gathering of academics and creative types, and I busied myself much of the time taking pictures of our surroundings.  We drank wine, dining by the fireside well into the nights.  Every little thing seemed to take on a mysterious and rare light that remained even with each new sun.  In looking over my images after the trip, I’ve settled on this one as a  favorite.  For me, this picture of a picture captures the light and context in a way that allows me to briefly suspend my disbelief.  Each time I look at it, the frozen figures seem freed, if only for a moment.

I Can See Clearly Now: An Opaque Post About Loss

I recently lost something dear to me. The loss didn’t come with a sudden absence; physical proximity remains unchanged. Instead, in an instant, years of ambiguity crystallized.  As the only visitor in the group, I was afforded an outsider’s view and unwittingly, I glimpsed a monster.  I recognized what it was immediately, even as it carried on, hiding in plain sight.  In that momentary burst, I caught sight of the massive thing sulking in the shadows, feigning self righteous indignation and crying out, “Poor me!”  It turns out the monster has been hiding there all along.

I’ve come to realize that blind loyalty to the hope of what could be is all that accounts for the sweetness I felt for so many years. But this possibility never materialized even in the shape of a small gesture from the other side, and so I must face the sadder realization that nothing has truly been lost. I’ve had to confess my own naivety at believing that it ever really was possible.  At least for a short while, the loss of hope on this matter as a whole will burrow through the optimistic part of my heart like a tiny mole.

But I am an optimist and this too will pass. Thankfully, something can be learned from these things.
New Orleans by MJJ, 2011

We Have No Heads, New Orleans by Molly Jarboe, 2011

(please imagine Bob Marley’s verson of “I Can See Clearly Now…” as a score to this post)