Leica M – Carlo Centeno

Metamorphisis

It’s already September and Autumn is around the corner. Summer’s still with us, that is, astronomically speaking. According to the Farmers’ Almanac, on Tuesday, September 22nd, Fall is set to start at 8:04 pm EST. And I realize that Autumn too, will run its course faster than it should, just like the previous 3 seasons.

I’m reminded there’s a chance to keep Daylight Savings Time. I think it’s a worthwhile change; changing batteries, digital displays, analog clocks & watches as well as using the TIME button on your microwave and oven will someday be history. Hopefully. The House of Representatives have voted to keep DST as our standard time, but we still need the Senate to vote. This could be a 5-year plan they’re working on. Our circadian rhythm may have to wait a bit longer.

For some of us, summer’s end is yet another blessing in disguise. Change is the one constant in life. Everything changes from one thing to another. Fall has its own personality.

For me, I look forward to the changes familiar to me, the kind that act like cues, even switches to turn on–or off–elements from my own history, my own state-of-mind. Melancholy rises as these switches of cooler weather, shorter days, falling leaves and other changes have a way of rolling my dysthymia up & down.

Ironically, and perhaps with a hint of contradiction and disconnect, a handful of these cues happen to also reduce the rise of my own melancholy. In other words, there are good days and bad days, and the mutual nature of moods and perceptions carry both a salve and an irritant. Anyone of our 4 seasons does that to me, and likely to others as well.

Light and Duplicity

A common refrain I hear that builds as the days get shorter is the disdain of less daylight. It sours the mood among many of us. On the other hand, the duplicity, or double dealing of, light has its own protagonists. Yes, there are some days that feel more melancholic than others, and its been argued that the deficit of sunlight can be partly responsible for feeling down and out.

Indeed, Seasonal Affective Disorder [SAD] is a real ailment. In fact, psychologists have recommended the use of a therapy lamp to help those with SAD. They work and it genuinely helps my dysthymia. My northernlighttechnologies floor lamp is outstanding. As the days get shorter, this lamp really helps attenuate my depression. It is purpose built and I use it before I turn in for the night. It also makes a good reading light. I recommend you find out as much as you can about light therapy.

Still, a few of us don’t mind the reduction of sunlight. We rediscover sensibilities that come and go once a new season takes hold. The light still exists, but the time of day can contradict expectations. The sun sets earlier, and so evenings start sooner.

As the light dissolves into colors, I find myself downshifting from life’s stresses to simpler, more grounded modes of living. The cooling air beckons me to the tennis court, home & garden projects, more time outside etc. Fall is my favorite season.

I allow myself to feel gratitude. I recall situations and events that brought a smile, a good feeling to that conflicted “inner me” that no one really sees. Am I living in the past? There may be some validity to that notion, however it’s the remembrance of those feelings from each situation that jettisons the discomfort at the edges.
Now, when you make the effort to help/support/comfort someone you care about, then you realize all the work you did to help was well worth the time and effort. Can you do the same for yourself? It takes time and a focused amount of effort.

Changing seasons and the shifting of light are palpable conditions. The ebb and flow of our seasons are with us. They’re all invaluable to us, and each season houses a sentiment that can remind us of our gravitas.

Horse Sense

Here’s an idiom that is sorely wanting in our modern day living and thinking: horse sense. Although there is some good news circulating here and there, it’s unfortunate that what seems to catch our attention are those things that show us at our lowest scale of being human.

In the 1830s, a horse reigned supreme. If you had any intention of getting from point A to point B in a relatively reasonable amount of time, a horse was part of the equation. Horses were a significant part of daily life back in those days. I believe they still are. Horses were as ubiquitous then as a car is today. The key–and important difference–is that a horse is a sentient creation, one that can feel, sense, experience and remember what goes on outside his/her physical body. Credit horse sense for those of us who’ve maintained a practical yet functional aspect of thinking reasonably.

A modern car is a marvel of technology, and that technology can deliver amazing conveniences in safety, comfort, even respond to inputs from the user [braking, turning, accelerating, navigation, e.g.] and of course, much more.

But unlike a horse, a car lacks the ability to feel and experience pain, joy, danger, fear, among other qualities of perception. Thus, being part of the animal kingdom, we are first and foremost, sentient beings. However, being human also means we are sapient creatures. We can reason, deduce and think about abstract concepts.
This is what makes us unique among all living things on this earth. We possess self-awareness, a conscious ability to think and reason to engage cognitive processes which in turn can further increase our understanding of things tangible and intangible.

We’re lacking a good amount of horse sense today. By any other name, it appears some have lost the basics of good judgement, fair decision-making, logical reasoning, even empathetic gestures and intentions.

“Well, it’s just pure, doggone horse sense______”
a) to wear a helmet when riding [horses, motorcycles, bikes, etc.]
b) to let go of that fire cracker once it’s @#!!# lit!
c) to wear that seatbelt regardless.
d) not to drive across that “shallow water” after a big rainstorm.
e) [and finally…] _____________________ [please, you think of something to add].

Here’s a comment attributed to French Enlightenment writer, philosopher and satirist, Voltaire [nom de plume; his legal name was Francois-Marie Arouet].
To wit: Common sense is not so common. I’ll bet he enjoyed horses.

Pagsanhan

It’s a river in the Philippines, one of two used in the filming of Apocalypse Now. The other was the Madapio River which is also nearby. About 47 years ago, that iconic film was first released to a global audience at the Cannes Film Festival, then later that fall, to the United States. To a few English majors, deja vu tickled our thinking to another time, whether recent or ages back. The film’s storyline is based on Joseph Conrad’s novella, Heart of Darkness.

This post is a small vignette of a single day traveling down this river. It was one of many days spent visiting or doing something with family. Three first cousins accompanied us on this venture; they were generous with their time and hospitality, and my language lifesavers when my Tagalog crashed and burned a few times.

Across several days, we met with those on my mother’s side as well as those from my father’s side. For my wife and 2 daughters, it was a journey ripe for discovery, for identifying–even relating to–customs and traditions that can now be associated with a relative, a special occasion, a particular saying or place, and even a recipe. To see their reactions, to hear their questions, comments and sense of wonder also brought to me a newness of the Philippines that refreshed, as well as anchored my own understanding of what it means to be a son of these islands. The 2-weeks spent there were the first for my family.

Bangka

These boats are not quite kayak or canoe. Granted, they’re distant cousins of what we recognize as either one or the other. Each bangka carries 2 passengers and 2 crew, one in the bow [front] and the other in the stern [back]. The boats are long, but stable.

River Life

As we passed homes and businesses along the waterway, I wondered about the strength of these elevated dwellings. The tropics are susceptible to typhoons and long days of rain in a season that spans June into November. A typhoon is referred to as the hurricane of the Tropics . Noticing the homes and businesses crafted from bamboo along the water’s edge made me wonder just how often folks had to repair and/or relocate these dwellings. They do either with their resourcefulness, patience and persistence. Help from neighbors and family are de rigueuer in the most challenging times of Life. That’s a universal truth for most part of the world.

The 2 guides in each bangka really know the route down this river. Their actions appear rote, yet calculated. There are several sections littered with rocks of all sizes and shapes; and in those instances, I’m specifically citing areas where the water is ankle to knee deep. Negotiating these tight places proved strenuous to the guides, but like sherpas in the Himalayas, they went about their tasks quietly and purposefully. However, now and then, you’d catch short, bursts of dialogue punctuated with a short, but hearty laugh. I’d like to think that they like this life stage. Life for them and their friends and families are pretty basic compared to the modern world. Wherever we were during our vacation, there’s this sense of work and gratitude which carry Filipinos from one day to the next. And that’s how it should be. A friend once told me that you really can’t miss something you’ve never owned. The Mobius strip in that saying implies that the feeling of missing something is quite different from wanting something that others own.

Water Veils & Vertical Walls

The Pagsanhan River courses through some of the tallest shores [walls, actually] I’ve ever seen. In these canyons a quiet, palpable strength, an anthropomorphic quality that had equal parts solidarity and that of a stoic individual, firmly planted in place. Falling water we passed often greeted us with a curtain of mist and the omnipresent sound of moving water.

The veils flowing [more like falling] along these walls into the river start at a height of 100 to 115 feet [30.5 to 35 meters] measured from the top of the water, to solid ground above. The tallest veils/falls run straight up to 300 feet [91 meters]. Scaling these walls could be deadly; the amount of wet stone, damp moss and greenery would put a quick stop to such a Quixotic attempt.

Without any prompts from anyone, Pagsanhan Falls and the celebrated Devil’s Cave came into view. Before you even see the falls, you can hear it. As it comes into view, a mist-filled breeze greets you, the falls resigned to cover everyone on the raft with water. The photo above shows the waiting area as another raft is at the cave. Our turn arrived and one of the boatmen pulled us straight into the rapidly falling water and finally into the cave.

Overall, the water is shallow often flowing smoothly, deep and quiet between shallow holes. Getting entirely wet in the cold water revived us from the heat. We were drenched minutes even before entering the Cave. We waded in the water feeling refreshed, just enough to thwart the heat we endured in that first hour skating down the river.

The waves lapping the stone “beach” a short distance into the cave provided a calming rhythm akin to the ocean touching the sands on a beach. As the sound of the crashing water just outside faded, each step into this dark, cave rendered an air of complacency. There was nothing to dwell on but only the moment we were all in. Happy, surprised, content with the here and now. Nothing else kept us from enjoying the unrehearsed, unanticipated joy that held us together. The boatmen even managed a smile and a few words, the latter acknowledged our silliness.

We left the cave, happy, quiet, tired and wet. The trip back to the loading dock was uneventful just as the first half of this trip. Whatever my camera managed to capture, I’m certain that each of us have already assembled a series of memories orchestrated and tied together with sounds, feelings and fragrances of the Pagsahan River. Perhaps the most invaluable memory of this and other things we experienced on this entire trip was that as a family, we were all in.

Photographic Frisson

Frisson…..it’s French for a chilling sensation, a shiver. It’s typically a pleasurable response to a stimuli that “moves you.” At times we refer to this reactive sensation as something that, “gives me the shivers.” You get goosebumps, you feel the small hairs on your arm or the back of your neck stand up, your breathing and pulse become quicker.

Frisson is that short-lived somewhat intense satisfaction often brought on by music, art, an event, a person, a book, essentially whatever it is you witness that generates a momentary elevation of pleasure. The brain and body experience something akin to adrenaline and dopamine reaching peak levels.

The following images are some of the “frissons” I felt while in France. I enjoyed the “shivers” and enjoy bringing them to life here. Hope you find something to like…..

Le Vignon en Quercy

Au sommet de l’Arc de Triomphe

Crepuscule a Paris

Une pluie d’or

Deux velos pour deux

Chez Louis Vuitton sur les Champs-Elysees

Au sommet des Champs de Elysées, partie 2

“I see it…”

“….do you see it as well…..?”

Un Point de vue Parisien

A Parisien Perspective

Keep an open mind. It matters when traveling to any destination that piques your curiosity. Whether it’s a neighboring state/province or an altogether different country, it requires elasticity in learning, appreciating and understanding. An open mind can open doors. It means possessing a willingness to be out of your comfort zone. And as you stand in your discomfort, your perspective may need adjustment or refinement. This is where you take the initiative to help others see your perspective. Naturally this requires staying attentive for the different position[s] you may encounter. It’s fine to disagree without being disagreeable.

Remind yourself that having an open mind tames the myopia that limits one’s ability to think beyond your horizon of possibility.

Eleven days in France this July made for quite a vacation. The coming of the summer Olympics turned Paris into a mixed bag of barricaded icons and walkways, detours and traffic. Our Parisian stay covered 3-days; not enough time to explore Paris, but 3 is better than none. A first visit to another city is as they say, an experience. Visually, aurally, olfactorily you cannot ignore the architecture, the gardens, the people, the language, the aroma of freshly baked croissants, baguettes and coffee and so on and so forth.

After Paris the next 8 days would be at Vignon-en-Quercy in southwest France. Fortunately, our flight back home was 7-days before the opening ceremonies, and we knew that more walkways and some open areas would be cordoned off. Predictably, logos and phrases proudly reminded of The Games coming to town. Still, nothing took away from our sense of discovery in this storied city.

We had thoughts of visiting the Louvre, Musee d’Orsay, among others, but the detours and limited access made it a physical and mental marathon. We were close to those museums and other points of interest as they say, but we unabashedly savored our quiet time in the Jardin des Tuileries, a garden between the Louvre and Place de Concorde. In a more relaxed pace, we enjoyed le Jardin and even took advantage of the cafes within the grounds. Seeing the Louvre from a different vantage point provided an unrushed appreciation for a 231 year old institution.

La Place de Concorde/ courtesy Paris Visuel

We thought of adding 2 more days in Paris. It would’ve certainly helped my french conversation, but other plans were already in place. Entering any business or eatery, saying bonjour is always helpful and polite. After the greeting, the most frequent words from my mouth were, Ou est…? or quelle direction est…? or pardonnez moi, sommes-nous pre du……? and of course, merci, bonne journee!

Our first morning, we walked to a bistro teeming with commuters and visitors. The menu on a sandwich board offered something we liked and I recognized: Petit déjeuner supreme ! Deux œufs [au choix] avec jamon et frommage, cafe, jus d’orange, baguette, croissant, confiture de fraises et salade. [Supreme breakfast! Two eggs any style with ham and cheese, coffee, orange juice, baguette, croissant, strawberry jam and salad].

We sat outside among a cluster of small tables and chairs, but the waiter advised we sit inside, though not far from the open frontage. Il y a trop de fumee dehors. Too much smoke outside as cigarettes are popular in most of France. It was a perfect time to watch people going on with their lives: scooters and bicycles carried a cast of characters; small french cars ruled the streets alongside taxis and Ubers, motorcycles and buses.

Based on our waiter, my french was so-so. Monsieur, I speak and understand english; you do not have to speak french…. Ouch. Polite but humbling. As he turned toward the kitchen order-window, I mumbled, C’est dommage….it’s a pity, too bad.

*“The solution for your industrial waste.”*

NEXT VISIT: a week in the town of Vignon-en-Quercy [….See you there.] !!!

The A Collection

I’ve come across a lot of A-words lately: amazing, atomic, artificial, augmented, abstract, auspicious, audacious, accountable, admirable, apathy, appreciation, affection, accomplished, alarming, Arctic, Antarctica, abysmal, appalling, anachronism and so forth.
Like a daisy chain made of paper, these words are linked and yet each easily broken free by the slightest of tension. And while some connections may not make a whole lot of sense, there are reasons however small, that connections take place. Anxiety, lack of focus, melancholy, fear, joy, anticipation, distraction, etc. etc., the Yin-Yang of this is that the very same attributes that prompted the connections can be the same to break them.
It depends on time and place. Context is everything.

Audacious. Approx. 35-degrees on a starboard bank.

The words come from various sources, anything and everything that shapes our life experience. With this exercise, the empirical nature of each word puts aside the rational, and instead embraces sentience, that ability to feel depth of things experienced.
It’s certain that others who feel existential—rightfully so in our fractured society—may feel embarrassed yet genuine. What could be more human than to feel concern about our current state of affairs [macro] and our relationships [micro]?

Anachronism. At the stable. The Mount: Edith Wharton’s summer residence.

I’m feeling abstract [visualize Cubism Art] and yet oddly auspicious because many things in life and living are not rational. We are prone to rely more on our senses, the very emotions that can either ruin or celebrate moments in our lives.
Yes, I’d rather feel embarrassed and genuine versus being stymied with self-serving, deductive reasoning. The former brings a sense of order, the latter a chance to improve our emotional intelligence and increase a capacity to further understand each other.

Abstract: The Slave Market & Disappearing Voltaire.

Life imitates Art, or is it Art imitates Life? Similarly in marketing, it’s not what you’re getting, but what you think you are getting. Perception is everything and even more so in the here and now. It’s a refrain that frequently echoes in my thinking.

There will be no “B” collection, existential-word-dump, involving any other letter, or a character for that matter. An exercise with one letter is enough for me, and probably for you as well.

In conversations, and things written, a question posed usually prompts us to reconsider a position we hold, maybe a perspective quite different from what’s already been established in our own thinking. This collage, this tapestry-of-a-post may not mean much to anyone, but it could be provocative enough to slightly encourage another perspective. Why not?

The seasons are moving quickly and as I get older my own temporal reality is based on just how fast time seems to go by. I lean towards the empirical and the sentient qualities of the here and now to help me keep it all together.

I never thought I´d grow up so fast so far.
To know yourself is to let yourself be loved.
Do you ever get me?
Shower me with affection and I’ll return in kind.
I have no hidden motive, I am blind.
Do you ever get me?

Edvard Munch

At the Clark Institute of Art, running through October 15, 2023, is a special exhibition, Edvard Munch: Trembling Earth. Munch’s [“Edward Moonk” Norwegian pronunciation] most recognizable, iconic painting is The Scream, and yet not many know of his other work which includes a number of self-portraits, prints, figure portraits and landscapes. The latter showed what he felt was a confluence of the natural world and humankind where nature provided a kind of salve that the urban environment could not deliver. The artist’s life contained the antagonists that shaped many of his creations: life and death; love and loss; loneliness and despair. And yet Munch as a protagonist, allowed us to see and feel the very antagonists that took hold of his deepest emotions.

I found the entire exhibit revealing if not eerily prescient. The power of art in all its forms allows us not to just see the obvious, but to measure if not ascertain a) what behooved the artist to produce his/her creation and b) what, if anything, draws your attention to the work?

While some of his paintings hint at Vincent van Gogh [1853-1890], there is a quality that makes Edvard Munch’s work stand apart: his apotheosis of anxiety, loneliness, longing and loss are indicated by the despair of his faceless human subjects. The hue of uncertainty and angst lay claim to troubled souls.

This is one of my favorite paintings, Woman with pumpkin. Its creation captures a sense of lost, and longing. The symbolism could be anything and everything. The pumpkin and the dark green color appear as if a person is holding the woman. Note the 3 “fingers” on the hip of the woman. In fact, the greenery next to the woman appears to be kneeling on its right knee, its “left leg” bent with a “foot” planted directly on the ground close to her back. Hence, the figure is resting its head on the woman’s right shoulder, the right arm suggesting a pillow.

Whatever you see and however you see it, Munch is a captivating study of conflict. You can feel it in most all of his works. The landscapes provide contrasts regarding our ability–and inability–to co-exist not only with the natural world, but with each other. Put another way, Munch is caught within an insatiable push-pull between the Id [our instincts], the Ego [reality] and the Superego [moral strength].

No artist lives a life of order and predictability. It’s contrarian to that world of creativity and expression. Munch’s self-portraits demonstrate a fortitude within his reality that dices with the likes of the Id and the Superego. Each of us deal with the instability created by our instincts and morality, our actions and reactions, our angst and distress. In a way Munch’s paintings brings form to what is often abstract yet palpable, even vicarious and visceral.

Lunden Center at Stone Hill

Gatherings

Margaret Keller, Executive Director, CATA.

The Community Access to the Arts [CATA] never ceases to amaze me. Meaning, “the creativity of the artists at CATA is as exemplary, as contemporary and modern as Art can be.”

The artistic abilities of the artists represent their thoughts, feelings, perspectives and perceptions that are as strong and perceptible as any artist could produce. From perfunctory to profound, energetic to calm and peaceful, there’s a lot being expressed on the gallery walls. Perhaps the most obvious being that these artists–with disabilities–clearly have a way to express themselves.

Margaret Keller with Gary Schiff, Managing Director, October Mountain Financial Advisors.

This opening recently took place at the Lichtenstein Art Center in Pittsfield, MA. Most all of the paintings are for sale and the artists receive a commission for their work. This show has much to offer, from small to very large using water color, oil, acrylic and ink painted onto wood, stretched canvas and other media.

Outside the gallery a boatload of rain just kept falling. It felt undeniably tropical; one moment a light rain, then clear, only to have everything overwhelmed by yet another heavy cloudburst accompanied by thunder and lightning. And yet the space was filled with friends, parents & guardians of some of the artists and loyal patrons and art lovers.

Kelly Galvins, CATA Program Director-Agency Programs

The success of any such gatherings depend a lot on those in charge of details. We all know that. I think of automatic watches, and how well they function. This organization [CATA] is akin to the dynamic of the workings of an automatic watch, self-winding [automatic] or hand winding only.

The sum of the parts is greater than the whole. Every component has a function, some specialized while others are a standard part to ensure the watch’s ultimate function.

Every person shaping an event matters. Just as an automatic watch requires springs, levers, meter wheels, escape & driver cannon pinions and so forth.

There needs to be synchronous relationships for many things to work: autos, machines, computers, watches and people. That quality of interaction relies on the functional capability of the part [or persons] involved.

Kara Smith, CATA Program Director [studios].

Meanwhile, there’s all this chatter about Artificial Intelligence [AI] with its potential and failings. Regulation? Monetization? Security? A bona fide threat to originality or something that can expand our ways of learning? In the end–and I do mean “The End”–nothing matters more than the people we love and care about, the interactions in gatherings familiar and new, and the way we contribute to being in the moment.

Ibid

Get Closer

It was home back in the day. Situated on 48 acres, the “cottage” contains 44 rooms.

Have you ever tried to look at something right in front of you and discern one particular detail. It could be anything: color, shape, texture, scale/size, any specific object and so forth. I’m referring to a single element that piques your attention, whether the element is large or small, plain looking or colorful, simple or complex by design.
Naumkeag offers history, a feast for your senses and options to indulge in a location that’s an antithesis to our present-day way of living. So, with an unhurried pace, walk the grounds, examine the gardens, enjoy the vistas and of course the house that was the summer home of prominent lawyer, Joseph Choate and his wife, Caroline. They referred to their residence in Stockbridge, MA as a “cottage.”
You don’t need to be a cognoscenti to appreciate landscape design, flowers, stonework, or architecture. No agenda, just a dose of quiet time in a locale that puts you in the Housatonic River Valley, a place in the Berkshires as pastoral as any you’ll find across New England.

Naumkeag is a cornucopia of details. You’re offered a buffet of elements that rightfully distract you from monitors, traffic, deadlines, meetings along with other indeterminate noises. Granted the elements–or distractions–are innocuous, there’s a realization that having these very details shrink the less important, stressful elements that occupy your mind. Well, at least in my mind.

Where’s my focus? Is it obvious to you? Can it as much be yours as it is mine?

You might say this is an exercise in discernment, a way of sharpening perceptions, a means to refocus on other details/elements that may lead you to another level of thinking. The process is still your own, but this time, you’ve given yourself the beginnings of a map that’s genuinely yours.

A benefit of these sorties is this sense of life copacetic; in spite of the routines and doldrums, there are moments that are the opposite of what ails us. In the world of art and the written word, we can see and feel just about anything. Having a sense of place, in this space and time, not in your past and where the future is not promised to any of us, the now matters. That’s it. Don’t waste it. Appreciate don’t pontificate.

The exercise of pulling a detail out and away from everything else pushes me to consider and associate with another perspective of whatever detail I look at. The reds and yellows in the tulips appear even more intense when surrounded by the middle greys in the photographs. The broadleaf in one corner of the greenhouse looks healthy, in large part because of the depth of its green color. Nothing has changed really, and neither have the proprieties of the object or the surroundings. What’s changed is the manner in which you deconstruct details.

Those with a proclivity to capture details can notice more than what meets the eye. Beyond colors, tendrils of an iron chair, the gradation of a solid color to one of a lesser though similar hue, I tend to go toward an object, experience or what have you, that’s relevant to my personal history. You might say it’s akin to a word association game, a yin-yang of opposites as well as things similar.
The associations can be personal, simple or complex, a source of light-heartedness or burdened echoes ruminating within your memory.

This is a modification of the immemorial saying, Stop and smell the roses [or tulips]. Instead, reframe your perspective: You can see the big picture, but details bring you closer to the value of the picture.