I will share selections from my purse notebooks on this blog until I decide against doing so.
Tuesday, January 24th, ’17
Rain. Facing Topanga; row of cypresses up a hill ridge above street & beyond nearest trees & land are cut off by roof of Starbucks patio – a structured awning, red canvas over a black scaffold, sound. A swoop beneath them, a curve beneath them, like a scale or like the strings of a harp – long to short where low side of hill affords me more cypresses per view.
The hill beneath them modeled. Mountain map – terrain map. I see a bird cross this view. Shambly and complex reaching vegetation – especially in this rain a swampy look, perhaps live oak this reachiest tree. Above, a more vertical tree. Dark green cypresses in their rising line, then hill which is all space, dimensional trees, but seems at a glance to be close heaps, as I said modeled. Air is blue. Cypresses are against another higher hill so space behind them too is green. Aerial photography, space photography where land, up-north land is laid out below us.
Rain awning. Each drop seems a source of light. How well I know these faces. This expression is as familiar as my own hands. Never grows repetitive. This expression: the drop is wide-eyed, surprised or energized into a sort of stupefaction, but dynamic & intelligent. As one come in from definite, urgent and forceful hike over hills where face whipped red by winds. Brisked into creative intelligence & mastery by difficult task which at same time also makes them numb & crazed – numb and hypersensitive, dumb and fumbly with words and extremely brilliantly awake.
Sometimes drops are turning their heads instead, just now turning their heads, expressions the dismissive cold look of thought. Maybe even disgusted superficially – but really they are concentrating. Moon in a car window.