Architecture of Cities Unique Spaces on Celluloid: Yesterday and Tomorrow’s Architecture

I see architecture through many lenses: Yesterday and tomorrow come to mind: My past has been framed from eras long before mine: Eras merge: The present is seen before the future vanishes: My camera mingles atop and between streets: It is a daily reprise of my fiction’s fiction:

I imagine the first capture: Buildings breathe to be heard:

I might remember tumbling down a vaulted spiral staircase: I cannot remember: I might remember fumbling down an alp or two: I cannot remember: I do most often remember dancing amidst a blue whale’s massive baleen-That I do remember:

If I faint my world blackens: Realities may be forgotten: My finger reflexively snaps captures merely because I am somewhere: The shutter is heard as if a pendulum clock: Alerted to more than time:

Herzog and De Meuron: 56 Leonard New York City

I march somewhere else: I remember the last snap and these words: “I didn’t want to die too soon:”

(Duke Ellington’s son Mercer about his father’s share:) I quickly realized it is time to harness the vast chronicles of my photography’s biospheric time: My captures are in my rear view mirror and slightly ahead.

I have always imagined stealing time as did Claude Monet: His plein air captures could never be mine: Monet’s light seem to last just shy of eternity: Monet’s impressions are mine in my dreams: My light vanishes as I see it: My captures are no longer dreams, but akin to Monet’s moments. I am capturing real light in real time: The light will never be again.

“Now I’ll never dance with another/

Oh since I saw her standing there.”

“I Saw Her Standing There”

Paul McCartney/John Lennon: The Beatles; 1963

I return every minute and day to what I do best: “Snippety-snap-snap”: Yesterdays world is mine today: Tomorrow is coming: Vespers are often heard across my cities: Cities become empty cavernous whispers to what may be new captures: A Vesper Martini sipped may conjure other whispers: Sacrilegious as it may seem, a calm influence on my apertures nonetheless are embraced: What prevails is framed-and I shoot as I see again.

I see today, yesterdays’ world: My camera knows time travel well: It is what the mechanical tool was built for: My mind revisits each and every frame: It is a prayer I invoke unhesitatingly: The backdrop from every capture is storied: My yesterdays remain my today’s. My pictures remain my everyday: Again I see yesterday and tomorrow, and again.

I miss celluloid as I might an old friend: I miss celluloid as I might miss an article of banished comfort clothing: I miss celluloid as I might miss a bite from the day that harks back: I miss celluloid as I might miss a gathering of friendly souls: I miss celluloid for the singular quietude that only resides in one known cranial vault:

I know for a fact that neither anthropologist, nor archaeologist could cipher through every visual evocation that accompanies me through villages, towns and cities: I have never slept without imagining what captures will follow the eventide that never arrives.