Friday, November 11, 2005

Une Fresque Parisienne No.5

The subtitle to this last-in-the-series of my autumn afternoon walk could be 'Wall Adornments', as all these pictures are that to an extent, be they classical, pitiful or simply terribly human.

The way architectural elements interact with each other speaks to me with its own language, without apology, without artifice, paradoxically, but with real emotion and meaning.

The skinny drainpipe, the pompous posturing palisades, the gorgeous blue, the tottering tiling, the humbling image shot through and through by lines of unrelenting grey, is this really representative of where I live, and anyway, hey!

Number '6', rue d'Ouessant, 75015, Paris! That's me, but...

I think it's more significant than I'm giving it credit for, skinny drainpipe, GAZ number 6, like a dream, sliding upwards, pointing pure pretending, perky piping.

Stop.

Check this out, an image slammingly horizontal, but with elements breaking all that, uneven, giving all the dynamic necessary...

14, rue d'Ouessant

The thing that pleases me with this shot, is not that it is groundbreaking: it is not. It's that it is part of everyone's lives - it speaks me of the quartier, of the everyday lives of all the residents and passers-by. But it's not every one who would see this shot. It's not everyone who would spot the fact that the skinny drainpipe dares to sneak down, or is it up, between the street name and the street number, and the GAZ sign, and the concrete nonsense, penetrating and infiltrating it, somehow.

Rue d'Ouessant, what great pleasure and terrible sadness it gives me to write those words... rue d'Ouessant...

With how many girlfriends have I tried to share my passion and my particuliarities? The market on Sundays...

This is the street where unknown musicians stroll, where unknown drainpipes drip and droll with sleazy signals, like this juicy, "Massage pour Homme et Femme" (Massage for Men and Women), but it's ok, coz it's by a femme of Asian origin, speaking a little French, with professional massage references, offering us a traditional quality home service, not to mention the fact that she reduces pain, eliminates tension and tiredness, and stress and so on, believe me, (it's in the ad...)

I'm severely tempted, if it wasn't for the fact that.....

there's this slimy scummy piece of paper dripping from my local lamppost touting dodgy dazy services which, to be honest, I wouldn't mind, so I'm going to call up and see what happens, see if I can inject a bit of Asiatique passing into my life... amongst the peeling... and the not so appealing, but who knows... you never knows, you know...There are moments when you no that you have an opportunity. And very often you have forgotten to take your camera with you on these occasions. Necessary precautions. Taken.

This was my case.

Opposite my building were two guys sharing and alternately playing a guitar, and their music was celestial, to exaggerate slightly, a sort of manic mixture of latino lunacy merged in with gypsy madness... well, it wasn't bad, in any case...

And I was at the end of my photographic sojourn, and I thought, this is it, and should I do something here, and will this be the best chance I have to do something meaningful today...?

So I decided, and the reason this photo is blurred is not because the light was bad, and I was shooting without flash, which I abhor.

The reason is that I was shaking with emotion because I knew that I was capturing something unique and I didn't know how to control myself.

This photo speaks for itself, and the very process of describing a photo is slightly absurd, as you just can't do it. So I should probably just shut up now. So I did.

And in my delerium I grabbed a shot from my balcony, way up high, looking down on the guys, strangely, that tends to change perspectives, especially since I've just made contact with someone who picked up on my wayward aerial ethereal tendrils flitting all the way across the way.

So I asked them if I could take a photo, and one of them said 'Yes' and I realised that I didn't have any more batteries in my camera, so I ran like a crazy guy, like a nutter, like an idiot, running, up to my apartment, to capture that moment, so I did, and I don't give a damn that it's blurred, in fact, it HAS TO be blurred, coz otherwise it wouldn't be the same and it wouldn't be real.

And that's real.

Here's loving you and leaving you with a crazy grabbed shot from my sixth floor flat - all part of that very same delerium.

Grab the opportunity when you can. If it's there, do it.

The only person who will regret not having taken the shot, is you... You will come to know that this is true... sooooo..... DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT!!!

Here we have the people passing sidewalk nutters.

Drown-and-outs. The Undesirables.

Except that they actually play some damn good music. That's the problem.

Watching where people's eyes go when they pass our beer-cans tells us tells us millions, focuses wavery attention on the dreams of shrivelled architects.

And withered would-be poets, and writers, and wish-weary wanderers, and in fact, there are so many wimpy warriors. And skinny drainpipes.

Shit, I think that's it.

Sab

1 comment:

dev said...

That shot from the sixth floor is so nice. Something private in a public space. I wish i was in Paris...it's so cold here.... thanks Sab.

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