Some work from Landscape Stories Issue 15: Mountains.
Photos (in order) by Misha de Ridder, Maria Sturm, Katrin Koenning, Olaf Otto Becker, Tamas Dezso, Awoiska van der Molen, Sonja Braas, and Piergiorgio Casotti.
There are so many familiar names in this issue – a lot of people I’ve blogged, emailed with, or bumped into many times before on the net. Real life pals Thomas Nolf, Daniel Reuter, Sherwin Tibayan, and Paul McCartney are featured as well. And I’m in there too.
He was thinking not of her death, but of something subtler, something elusive that has been haunting him lately: that one day he wouldn’t recognize her; that the certainty Chantal represented for him would turn out to be illusory, and that she would come to mean as little to him as everybody else.
'What's wrong with you? You're sad again.'
‘Nothing, nothing at all.’
‘Sure there is, tell me. What’s making you sad right now?’
‘I imagined you were somebody else.’
‘That you’re different from what I imagine you. That I am wrong about your identity.’
‘I don’t understand.’
-from Identity, by Milan Kundera
#Patience after sebald
Patience: After Sebald
dir. Grant Gee
A film about locations & their imagery, itinerary maps, pins & lines, spatial connections, and what it’s like to be released from something; substances that have been reduced down and down into nothingness like the orbital dust from the moon that wandered too close to jupiter; pattens that exist everywhere in nature and uncanny connections; the fact that coincidences are like dreams, if you talk about them they become inert & meaningless; and finally, a narrator on the run who is most scared of stopping.
Sebald’s Rings of Saturn begins with the finishing a book and what a relief that is, but it’s once you recognize your freedom and feel carefree that all of a sudden you are full of cares. The film shows frames within frames, roadways in landscapes, looking out and looking down.
The film is going to a place that says “Yes this space is for you” (to sit and pray, to sit and think, or just to SIT) and “you don’t care that you’re being led nowhere because you learn so much on the way.”
"The scene was veiled to him, the figures gauzed—as if the journey, and everything pertaining to it, had been claimed already by the gray fog of his uncertain mind; as if his memory, recoiling upon itself, had met its obverse, the power of forgetting, and had conjured the mist and driving rain as a kind of cloth, spectral, to screen him from the shapes of his own recent past."
-Eleanor Catton from The Luminaries
Photograph by Nicola Beuscher
"In my work, I have pushed against the weight of clock time, of calendar time, of linear unravellings. TIme may be what stops everything happening at once, but time’s domain is the outer world. In our inner world, we can experience events that happened to us in time as happening simultaneously. Our non-linear self is uninterested in "when" much more interested in "wherefore" I am more than halfway through my biological life and about halfway through my creative life. I measure time as we all do, and partly by the fading body, but in order to challenge linear time, I try and live in total time. I recognize that life has an inside as well as an outside and that events separated by years lie side by side imaginatively and emotionally. Creative work bridges time because the energy of art is not time-bound…But our interest in art is our interest in ourselves both now and always. Here and forever. There is a sense of the human spirit as always existing. This makes our own death bearable. Life + art is a boisterous communion/communication with the dead. It is a boxing match with time."
#why be happy when you could be normal
from her memoir Why Be Happy When You Could Be Normal?
WORDS TO THAT EFFECT by John Ashbery
#words to that effect
The drive down was smooth
but after we arrived things started to go haywire,
first one thing and then another. The days
scudded past like tumbleweed, slow then fast,
then slow again. The sky was sweet and plain.
You remember how still it was then,
a season putting its arms into a coat and staying unwrapped
for a long, a little time.
It was during the week we talked about deforestation.
How sad that everything has to change,
yet what a relief, too! Otherwise we’d only have
looking forward to look forward to.
The moment would be a bud
that never filled, only persevered
in a static trance, before it came to be no more.
We’d walked a little way in our shoes.
I was sure you’d remember how it had been
the other time, before the messenger came to your door
and seemed to want to peer in and size up the place.
So each evening became a forbidden morning
of thunder and curdled milk, though the invoices
got forwarded and birds settled on the periphery.