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> Member Pages > John Georgette > Poetry Pages > SPANISH POEMS AND OTHER POEMS FROM URUGUAY > Views from studio in Playa Fomento, Uruguay: February, March, April, 2007.
Views from studio in Playa Fomento, Uruguay: February, March, April, 2007. |  | |
The sunrise and sunset at my adobe cottage in Playa Fomento, where my writing and art studio sat, offered nothing short of the spectacular.
But, if you wanted to see the sun set or rise at the beach, it took a short walk down the butterfly path to the sand and water to get there.
If I took no photos, didn't have a dialog with the bushes, herbs, birds, cactus or bugs, I could walk the walk often in about which possibly seemed like maybe could have been say... ten minutes, but it could have been twenty as time stopped existing about, maybe, say about three days into being there.
I often used words like maybe, seems, perhaps, quizas, possibly, say about, in describing elements of time, because I often had no clue, as to how much time passed, in between moments of other casual observations.
I often walked three hours in each direction never seeing another human. Waves lapped the shoreline making designs of driftwood.
I often collected wood, river washed branches and made sculptures of the naturally disgarded materials.
I often got lost in the play.
I often took photos as sculptures evolved.
I often painted the sculptures.
I often turned the sculptures into characters who interacted with other characters, and built storylines. Muses presided over my every move.
I often ate, drank, slept with their every dream and inspiration often ruled every activity.
I often thought it would be totally aesthetically decadent anyplace else. But there, it soothed me and pushed me deeper into deeper happiness, deeper than any other happiness I experienced alone ever.
I often made fires of the sculptures, to be warm as the river rose and fell during the night. But, I never used my pages of journals as kindling fire starters.
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Color Motion on the MoveThe first time I crept along
the sandy path to the beach
I brushed back jungle overgrowth
ducked under low branches
climbed over downed tree trunks.
I reached a slight dune incline
and my feet sunk into the loose sand,
trudging slowly
back soaking in sweat
dripping,
at the peak
my eyes rolled into
the distance and in front of me
the whole landscape on
both sides of the path
rose slightly up
and lowered itself down.
I looked for the sun to
see if it was playing tricks
but no, too cloudy.
Then the landscape moved again upwards
and settled back down
wavelike up,
wavelike down.
I walked forwards
and then in one great motion
the whole landscape lifted up
into the air
and it is then I realized
hundreds of thousands of colorful butterflies
in one tribal motion dazzled
in the sunshine
all at once in one great motion
moved again solving the question
as what could be so intriging.
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Painting on the Beach, Playa Fomento, Uruguay, 2007. Painting at the Playa Fomento
The sun has an interesting effect
on the imagination
when it is strong.
Of course when Dali's Muse
finds you alone on the
edge of rural civilization
if you are an artist,
you can't help yourself
but to fall under
the Muse's spell.
You wonder for a scant
fleeting breath
if it will ever happen again,
you don't doubt the prescence,
that would be too insulting.
I nodded my head in anticipation
of what might come next,
immediately dashed my own thoughts
and let my mind take a break.
My fingers found a brush
the brush found a design,
the design found colors,
the colors continued with shape,
the shape made itself into a form,
the form outlasted
the challenge to move too fast,
and slowly a desert breeze
rustled the canvas,
and I interrpted that sign
to stop.
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Sky North WestView from adobe cottage studio.
The evening colors inspired
many paintings.
Thousands of photos.
From my veranda
with back against
cool stucco
under trellace
loaded with night flowers
slowly opening in the gloaming
mingling with clouds.
there time set
in pleasant coolness. |
Storms breed humility and humblenessOn a Reflective Day
I wanted to be as far
away from uncivilized civilization
as possible.
Playa Fomento
on the outskirts of rural
farmland
offered peaceful tranquility.
But mighty storms
like the country never witnessed
in it's history
tumbled down out of the upper hemisphere
and re-arranged the geography,
Tornado,
Hurricane,
a second Tornado,
in a zone where
they have never been recorded
emptyied the sky
blackened the air,
dismantled the countryside.
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The Ants of the JungleOf course,
you had to be ready to run
as fast as possible
if you crossed killer ants on a path.
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Uruguay |  | |
The natural beauty took over all senses.
The purity of the air,
opened up all senses.
Every
sight
and
sound
harmonized.
After much time of not seeing
or hearing humans,
when I did see a person,
it was humbling.
'Awe' comes to mind,
as in,
'in awe'.
To see another human being,
in a no man's land,
made my heart race faster
without me knowing it.
Then, I realized the rhythm
and it surprised me in a good way.
We communicated without speaking.
The extent of our acknowlegement
of each others existence
was a nod of the head,
a slowing in the pace
of each others steps.
Words
might have ruined
the sacredness of the place.
Words
were unneccessary.
We stood
and looked into the river
whose breath was so wide,
it was endless
in the horizon,
and we caught the sea winds
in the pours of our faces.
When the clouds began to move the sun
and make shadows,
and the incense warmly blowing off the bubbling waves casually lapped our faces
the ceremony of that moment
had come to
it's conclusion.
We simply continued on our ways.
More pleasant than before,
more satisfied. |
Views and Thoughts from Playa Fomento, Uruguay, February, March, April 2007. |  | |
The sunset meant I had to walk towards it,
at the end of the day,
if I had walked towards the sunrise
at the beginning of the day.
When alone,
that's the only principle relevant to time I needed.
There weren't many other survival thoughts about existence.
Of course,
you had to be ready to run
as fast as possible
if you crossed killer ants on a path.
Or,
if a swarm of black killer bugs
happened to coast into you,
you had better be ready
to dive into the river,
lest your head ended in a bloodied scrap
of novicane stinging flesh.
Yes, I was lucky twice.
It is luck cultured from being lost in the desert in Barego Springs California, near Salton Sea, near Mexico.
It is luck compounded from being lost in a blizzard near Wood Creek, in Bethlehem, in Litchfield County, in Connecticut, in New England, in the U.S.
It became second nature to hear them coming once you knew their sounds and automatically jungle wise common sense became imbeded in the DNA forever. |
When Alone DaydreamingAfter too many days secluded
with no electricity,
no phone,
no highways,
not even tarred roads
the most mundane natural things
come alive
reach into the pockets of imagination
and pull out worlds
that have always been there
but new to me,
unnammed,
unwitnessed,
begging to be named,
touched,
played with
and you do those things
with no one lurking over
your shoulders.
As it should be. |
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