Sunday, May 17, 2015
The Sunday Series: Sunday May 17, 2015
The Sunday Series:
Sunday May 17, 2015
I walk, therefore I am. The eros of the trees and concrete call out to me. Since I don't communicate that well with my fellow human beings, I tend to do all my serious conversations with objects - both living (plants) and dead (concrete/buildings). Architecture never comes to life to me, till I see a figure passing a window inside their home or apartment. I wonder what life is like behind that window or window shade. What kind of eros takes place in the rooms within that specific space?
What I do know is that I'm part of the equation. I'm there as a visitor or a passenger of a certain time and moment. I tend to over think these things as I walk pass various windows, showing life as it happens. I remember many years ago, walking around Amsterdam and being surprised by the huge open windows of one's daily life in their homes. It seemed that the typical Dutch person doesn't believe in having a curtain. So you can see the entire first floor where you can see the kitchen, the living room, and the dinning area. Often I saw the wife cooking, while the husband/male is in the living room watching TV or reading a newspaper. There is nothing to hide, but then why be so exposed to the outside world in such a manner?
There is an area in Amsterdam that is their red light district. It's the oldest street in Amsterdam and it is called The Warmoesstraat (Warmoes street). Walking down this street is like a girl market, where all the whores are placed in windows. Since I'm a shy fellow, I have a hard time making direct eye-contact with the woman placed in the open windows - but they for sure try to make eye-contact with the walker. Or, as you stroll by, they knock on the window to get your full attention.
Here in Los Angeles, everything is covered up. When I walk around my neighborhood, the windows are usually covered by a curtain or shade. I never look through the shade or window of course, but it is odd that in Amsterdam you can see a whole life taking place in front of you - and here, at my home, it's covered up by the owners or renters of that structure. The irony is that I do most of my writings by two large windows, so anyone who walks by can see me typing a way.
Everyday people walk by here, walking their dog - but on Sunday, there are a lot more people passing me by. Some I know being in the neighborhood, but some are a total mystery to me. A lot of pretty girls come by here, with their dogs. Even the dogs are beautiful. A good looking dog usually has a good looking human attached to the other end of the leash.
It's odd to look at people as they walk-by, and they don't look through my window. If I was in their place and position, of course I would want to look in and see what that guy at the window is up to.
My daydream is to be able to sit on a street bench, maybe a bus stop, and just have a glass of wine while watching a family through big windows doing what they normally do on a regular basis. There is something very Jacques Tati about it all - where the citizen or consumer is doing their duties, which to me, seem like a theater piece. I would like to take a Sunday, while the family is at home, and watch them from mid-morning till nighttime.
Not long ago I went to MOCA to see Andy Warhol's 8 hour film "Empire," which is one long shot of the Empire State Building in Manhattan. The shocking thing that happens is when the screen goes dark when night approaches, and then all of sudden, the lights go on. It is probably one of the greatest moments of being in a movie theater for me. The whole audience (the eight of us in the theater) gasp at the same time. I would feel that way, watching a household as it approaches darkness, and then suddenly someone turns a light on in the living room or kitchen.
As I get older, I feel life is getting more intense. I sense colors as like I never had before. Walking through Amsterdam is one experience, but I also feel the difference between Los Angeles and Amsterdam is a location of eros. There is the obvious erotic pull of Amsterdam, but Los Angeles is more secretive, and perhaps more of an eros minded culture and structure. I like Amsterdam a lot, but I love Los Angeles.