Architect: Frank Gehry: 8 Spruce Street: New York City
My eyes pace the streets-gingerly: I reconvene with my real and surrealistic photographs-daily: Everyday I step into my archives steeped in degrees of time travel: Ten or one-thousand architects I imagine: Their space, their architecture are my captures: Some and many voices are no longer among us: My eyes remember: I have preyed upon their buildings: I have morphed into a cheetah with an heralded mantle standing as camouflage: Praying for anonymity-to hear what I might see: Praying for anonymity to see what I might hear:
My mind’s eyes and ears listen to two thirty-second intros melding The Rolling Stones’ “Gimme Shelter”with Merry Clayton’s full throttle worshipping shrill and Benny Goodmans’ “Sing, Sing, Sing” with Gene Krupa’s solo drum dance followed by torrents of woodwinds and brass: The music plays; I capture rhythms-I capture space:
I see five-hundred cities fictionalized congregated as one: Patience-I hear the shutter-snippety-snap-snap: Daily fictions carry on. I make more snaps. The camera’s reflecting reflex captures the chorus of moments:
Architect: Skidmore-Owings and Merrill: Principal Architect: David Childs: Moynihan Train Station
Photographing cities and the architecture within is a kinship: The eyes often feel an elated emotional burst: Then their, my eyes, begin: I pre-visualize the unattainable: I am reminded of two and ten million moments: Maybe remembering the Japanese artist Hiroshige Utagawa’s bewildering beautiful woodblocks frozen indelibly upon my eyes + Maybe remembering the German artist Hans Bellmer bewildering beautiful poupées frozen indelibly also upon my eyes: Maybe their talented passions infuse my eyes-Intimately and broadly: Maybe their voices and a dozen-dozen artists, five photographers and more accompany my journeys: Their Images, my memories bask in the glory of fantastical accomplishment: A reminder of achievements never to be mine: Stirring to remember: Calming and disturbing: Alarmingly beautiful and frightening stories to be remembered.
A daily conjuring of ideas play repeatedly: My mind’s eyes see stories about cities and architecture mingling in and around five-hundred years and maybe five-hundred thousand years: I exaggerate on all accounts: For I never know how to single out one voice or one day to explain how I may or may not strategize my intent for content: There is tomorrow.
Architect: I.M Pei: Javits Center: New York City
A collage of the surreal hovers: I stand hand in hand with Oscar Niemeyer at the wide bight, on the Copacabana Beach, Rio de Janeiro: We see and hear the full discharge of the Amazon River: We see and hear the Amazon forest as a collective of spheres (pause) above are seen expanding like millions of tendrils before our eyes (pause) crossing continents:
A waxing crescent moon hovers near darkness: Kettledrums tickle the air: The two of us imagine our past and present as one voice: The names of places accessible and excessive dance: Mere magic: Perfect theater.
I point northward as with a baton: I share Dhaka, Rio, Copenhagen, and Rome: We reminisce about nations and continents: We collectively animate the names of influencers in our lives: So many directions and directives are enjoined in the conversation of generational exchanges: We admire the anthropology of worlds seen:
The day and night nearly end: We share science fictions that are true: The stars above free flow exponentially: All the stories in real time that might have been shared: Mine live in rhythms and spaces my camera has seen: Oscar’s live in designs he has made for the planet: Every capture relates to a story somewhere that my camera has seen: One thousand faces and incalculable places have made for stories: My past is here-I am among those who might wish for another tomorrow.
Architect: David Adjaye: 130 William: New York City