The Flatiron Building New York City: Architect Daniel Burnham
The other day I heard one of my cats cry out: I turned every which way to see both my boys:
They were gone: They had been missing in action for two and more years ago:
I often heard their voices as they scampered along: The wooden floors occasionally sounded like black and white ivories in the keys of life: The two boys always scampered: Their voices intermingled with mine: They are mine:
Inspiring as it is concerning: Sanity is overrated: Insanity is home to a bit more volume of clarity:
I merely had a few more things to say to them: They didn’t go into an afterlife: They merely live on in new light: My moments remind me of Max and Dash: Voices matter.
A photographer’s life is; can be a force of nature: Nothing replaces nature’s power in a career:
My eyes share the veritable truths in my genre. My cameras live in a bit of existentialism:
Dreams about reality mostly:
LAX: Los Angeles Airport: Architect Pereira and Luckman: Paul Williams and Welton Becket
There is always something dark about seeing the light ahead: It speaks to your angle of repose: The need to move forward: The urgency to capture many moments in various guises of light: My camera is only rewarded when my eyes secure the better imageries.
I have landed on lands far and near: My agenda is always to merely witness my architectural history, and remember my footprints: What stands: What was. What is coming: I arrive in familiar and foreign lands as explorers do:
A point of reference allows me to navigate my affinity for the symbolic nature of the four cardinal directions: We may be entwined with the mythology of the east’s blue dragon, the white tiger of the west, the red bird of the south or the dark entwined snake and tortoise of the north: Nothing sane matters because symbolism is what you borrow from it: The four cardinal directions may become dreams, energies and the coalescence of everything we hope to know to be truth and myth:
Madison Square Park: Architects tower left: Kohn Pedersen and Fox: Tower Right: Cetra Ruddy
I have imagined Hannibal, Caesar, Napoleon and the artist Brancusi: All figures entered metropolis’s like mountainous clouds of power: All spearheaded towards a symbolic North Star: A destination to guide their ambitions: They placed their ear to the ground: vibrations of cities rumbled before them: Something to behold: A capture was ahead: They all needed in some measure a beacon:
I, like my conquering adventurers enjoined the bearings ahead with my ambitions: I melded into a centrifugal force of animated holograms: My eyes, my galaxies, we marched: It is more city than country: More country than continent: More memories of dreams than realities:
The awe inspired, point to Van Allen’s Chrysler Building: The awe inspired, point to Louis Kahn’s National Assembly in Bangladesh: The awe inspired, point to India’s Taj Mhal: The awe inspired, point to Paris’ Norte Dame: Collectively the traveler through the modern and ancients avow that they have arrived: They step into New York, Dhaka, Agra and Paris: Monuments live in cities: Countries and continents: You breathe: The pleasures and adventures that await your eyes: The voices echo: Find your beacon and begin.
Voices vanish before we have fully heard: Our eyes suffer: The voices share: We may fully articulate what we see: Those voices: The evidence of life lived before: The life we need: We explore the intricacies of our histories:
Architecture is where the voices reside most acutely: Imagine: Brunelleschi might explain the steps to his Florentine Duomo: Imagine: Antoni Guadi might have shared the complexities of the Basilica de la Sagrada Familia church: Imagine:
Vanishing voices are the three dozen pritzker laureates before I met their accomplishments: Long before the numbers and the names my eyes floated like Tritons’: We engulfed the seven seas: History’s voices implored: Find your voice: Your voice will reign over your frames: Your photography voice will rise:
There will always be a new horizon: There will always be the built history: Until there isn’t: There will always be the voices that navigate the four cardinal directions: New myths will arise: New symbolism will be: My frames in cities, countries and continents will live for a bit:
Then there are my voices: My boys/cats.
Architect Rafael Viñoly: 277 Fifth Avenue