day

So, this is Dennis Day, a vendor for the Denver Voice, a pretty unique publication geared towards telling the story of the city's homeless (but the paper offers general city news as well; for example, this month's issue was a guide to the ever-expanding bicycle sharing program in Denver) that is sold by current, or recently homeless individuals themselves. Vendors are required to attend classes and training that eventually lead to a city-sponsored vending permit--thus, somewhat steady employment. The papers carry a suggested donation of two dollars, with the understanding that a buyer will add something more to that purchase. Dennis got my last five bucks. Anyhow, I met Dennis as I was out and about today downtown. We talked for a good while beneath the glass dome of the Performing Arts complex. His story is a sad one, of course, a story involving drugs and arrests and violence and tears. I won't relay it all here but I genuinely wish Dennis the best--he still has a few bumps in his road ahead, but he was upbeat, positive, and hopeful for the future. He was happy to help me out with the new series and I remain eternally grateful. He is going to mail the Polaroid of himself to his girlfriend who was just sent to prison on a drug dealing charge. I hope she likes the picture of him--it didn't really capture his stunning, squinting blue eyes (which my digital did pick up, not seen here though, obviously). Yes, it was an excellent day in Denver. Before running into Dennis, I logged some good hours at the library of my old undergraduate alma mater. I can't believe it has been almost ten years now since I left there. Meandered around the old haunts, lumbering through the past hallways. Saw some familiar names on refurbished placards, even glanced at a few faces, in person, in photos on walls, that I vaguely recalled from my time there. It felt right. Now, if only Leah was here with me. But then again, today has been one of those much needed solo days. Being with family is of course wonderful, especially since they all live here and I only get back twice a year. But with that said, I needed today. The walk, the time to reflect with myself (made all the more polarized in meeting Dennis then a few hours later eating a nice dinner at the Denver Art Museum), to capture some images, to (re)explore the bricks beneath my feet. Yes, I left campus and walked across Speer into the heart. Ate a salad and drank a beer outside at a little Italian cafe on Market Street, a street that might as well have been lifted from Milan or Paris or something. Took some more Polaroids, trekked some more warm miles. Then it was on to meet my Dad at a place I've been anticipating greatly, and it did not disappoint: the Clyfford Still Museum. A one-of-a-kind place where you could see the archives (only 5% of his work is ever on display at one time--the curators are still uncovering new pieces from Still's oeuvre each day), the cleaning/restoration department, a even his personal effects, like paints, books, and his old typewriter. I think I can say that I've always (whatever that means: 'always') enjoyed the Abstract Expressionism movement as a whole (though maybe not Pollock as much; his stuff seemed too...busy(?)) and Still's late minimalism, vast and simpler than his starkly beautiful Depression-era gauntness, though still haunting, really sits well with me and with what I find appealing in aesthetics, and what I can only hope to achieve with photography: to go very big yet somehow remain muted, to be clear and concise and clean yet leave much to chance, much to invite interpretative discourse. I don't know. I'm full of shit. But here is my favorite museum shot from today, with a few more from the place. Anyhow, pretty neat how Denver was chosen as the location by his estate to permanently house Still's life's work. Old news but: God, this city. So easy to move around: public trains, public bikes (with extensive lane networks); so livable. Indeed, Fort Worth now has a bike share (even using the same company, B-Cycle) and truly world-class museums that Denver's struggle to top. But here, there is so much to do, to eat, to see, to feel. I don't know why I always fall into something resembling a comparison. Because you can't compare this place to anything else. Also, I don't necessarily mean to say it's better, per se, but, to me, it just feels more real (i.e. not as 'forced'), more organically and carefully structured. I don't know who I am trying to sell these thoughts to here, who I am trying to convince. Basically, I just articulate my love for this city so much because it does seem unbelievable or surreal. It infects me in a way that no other place has done and I am not sure how, or why, and I ramble on about it only because I'm trying to figure it out to this day. And I probably never will. I just know I need to get back. Get back here. There is so much living yet to do for me, for you, for us. Let's go live.