Or Wandering Along the Edge of Things…
It was raining last week in Vancouver – the plane always seems to come down through the rain when you land on the West Coast.
There is something about the Pacific Northwest, though, besides constantly wiping your glasses free of rain. It’s where I grew up, and though of course you can never go back, you can always go there again.
At 5 a.m. there are not a lot of people down by the beach (one of the advantages of jet lag). Just ravens, gulls, otters and a flock of Canada geese on their way somehere. Sea lions making their habitual racket on the reef farther out. I like walking the tide line. Shorelines, like borders and frontiers, let you be a foreigner in peace.
There may not be anyone to talk to, but there are loads of voices if you care to listen…
All right says the beach, I don’t keep your footsteps on file anyway, I can get along without them, besides, the waves have just erased them.
Fine say the clouds, we don’t need you to see shapes in us, or to watch what we do with the light. (I’m above all this childishness anyway adds the sun.)
Of course say the islands, we can have the mist to ourselves, and moreover, what’s the promise of another dawn to you? You never ask our permission anyway grumble the rocks, draping themselves in their ragged liveries of weed and barnacles. Put me down says the shell, it’s not the sea you hear anyway. Even the starfish just shrug.
We were all here before you gave us names, they chorus, and we’ll forget the names you’ve given us in good time. In our own good time.
That’s why landscape is sublime. You can erase yourself with it, brush yourself away like a sketch gone awry, and sharpen your pencils again.
That’s why everywhere I go, I scratch my name on the water, it’s so much more enduring than stone.
GRUYÈRES
Opening night in the Castle of Gruyères last Friday. As usual, I am entirely out of it. even under the most auspicious circumstances. This time I had almost literally just stepped off the plane, so I was even more oblivious than usual.
Thanks to LaWise for the report. In her own over-modest words:
In case anyone cares for horrifyingly miserable quality pictures, due to Kodak “one-way” cameras, you can go to the very small report I made: http://lawisewoman.com/jhowereport.html
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Upper left: Canvas poster (4 metres by 7) on the main road through Bulle, on the way to Gruyères. Nearly had an accident trying to stop along the road to take a picture…
Upper middle: Approaching the castle itself.
Upper right: One of the two rooms that house the exhibition.
Lower left: Very young spectator accompanied by her Mom. (photo: Dominique Javet)
Lower middle: Chatting with a VERY distinguished visitor. (photo: Dominique Javet)
Lower right: I even got to sign one of the catalogues for him, which was really an honour. (photo: LaWise)
GANDALF
Gandalf has at last let first his beard and now his moustache grow. I admit the images of him with only the beard are rather disconcerting to say the least… Oscar is going to exercise another of his many talents – hairdresser – before attacking the notorious hat. (All photos by Oscar Nilsson)
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ON THE DRAWING BOARD:
Theoden and the Witch King.
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Talk about rough sketches, these practically have bark and splinters… now I will probably blithely ignore them and do something entirely different…
AIRPORT READING
Picked up a lovely book by Bill Bryson which I had been unable to find for some time: MOTHER TONGUE. While Bryson’s travel writing is hugely hilarious, his philological forays are rather more serious in tone. MADE IN AMERICA, the history of English in the New World, is also an extremely good read, whether you’re on a plane or not…
