Karl : It was too big.
From Slingblade
It is a big world. So big, I sometimes wonder how my mind can keep things ordered and in focus.
Then, feeling like a spirit animal, running across frozen roads, a man born to be a solitary wolf, I seek companionship in distant memories and future contacts.
My spirit senses a signal, a gesture from the past - and I sit down to write it out, wondering why and who for.
A few days later an answer arrives -
"Is this you and your correct email address?!! I just googled you and spent some time trying to uncover your email address from numerous web sites with the reference "James Webb photographer" and with great determination and patience, I finally found you! "
I must be in a dream, but I don't want to wake just yet. The last time I heard from Steffen was 5-6 years ago.
She has been in and out of my thoughts during that time, but what prompted me to sit down and write a lengthy blog entry about her? The details ravaged my memory with clarity and I felt compelled to get them out into the light.
Oh my......
Some more artifacts found yesterday :
Walked to the grocery store after work today and made a picture of a shopping cart :
After walking to the grocery I ran in 3-4 inches of fresh snow. It was tough, it took about twice the amount of energy than usual just to move forward. I ran to the arboretum, then did 10 hill repeats, watching the sledders fly down the hill, but I felt faster and was surely having just as much fun!
When I got home I wrote out the beginning fragment for Joseph & Kiki. Maybe I should not be setting my memories loose into the world, it is incomprehensible that Steffen would contact me just as I wrote that piece for her.
~ ~ ~
Joseph and Kiki I
My time spent at Morningstar was better than expected. It was my first job out of college, and it allowed me to escape the car culture of the suburbs.
After 2 months of working at Morningstar I moved out of my parent's home and moved to Chicago. I found a cheap studio apartment in Uptown, a block from Foster Ave beach. Considering that my path was photography, the building was appropriately called the Parc Paris.
One of the things the landlord was happy about was that I owned a car, because he could count on me paying to use the building's parking lot.
While it was true that I owned a car at the time I signed the lease, I did not think it necessary to tell the landlord that I planned on selling it once I got settled in, which took only one day.
When I stopped by the landord's office after my first month to pay the rent, he asked about my car, and where I was parking it. When I told him I had sold it, a crestfallen look overcame his face. Although I felt a bit sorry about his lost income, I was happy to finally be free of owning a car. I now could walk everywhere, and took public transportation for further jaunts, and loved it.
The Parc Paris was in the midst of being renovated when I moved in, with new flooring being installed in the lobby. I soon realized that I was one of the few tenants currently living in the building. I kind of liked it that way, it was quiet, and it felt as if some of the hallways were haunted with shady transactions from days gone by.
If I looked out my east facing windows I could see a sliver of the lake far off to the left, but the main view was dominated by the building across the way, with a parking lot separating the two.
It was not a very safe neighborhood. One evening as I had the candles burning and Mozart on the stereo, I heard a racket in the parking lot below and looked to see 2 men removing a tire from a car. Once the tire was removed the two men began to run down the street, rolling the tire with them.
One block west was Vietnam Town, which was a 2 block collection of stores and restaurants owned by Vietnamese people on Argyle Street. The elevated train stopped in the middle of Vietnam Town, so I walked through the area almost everyday.
One day I saw a painter sitting on a stool, a large 20 x 24 canvas resting on a portable easel in front of him. I stopped to have a look, and saw that he was painting the Red Rooster bar, which was across the street from where he sat. I sometimes felt the urge to walk into the Red Rooster, but I never summoned the courage to do so.
It wasn't a bad painting, considering he had to put up with various people looking over his shoulder. Over the next few months I would see the man out there, painting the different scenes and buildings of Argyle Street. The main thing I remember about his work was that everything was dominated by a red and blue color scheme.
I took the elevated train to work Monday-Friday, and realized I liked train travel better than driving. I think at that time I was reading the poems of Rilke and Miloz, which put a somber, romantic touch to my daily train travels.
I also spent time writing lengthy journal entries while I sat on the train. I loved to write, and was inspired by all the things which surrounded me.
Morningstar is a financial publisher, and at the time I started in 1991 had just 175 employees. I was hired into the circulation department, and when a shipping department was added a few months later, I moved into it with my manager and a couple of others.
My manager, Erwin, started working there a few weeks after me. I had a chance to see his resume and saw that he graduated with a degree in fine arts painting. He was about 34 or 35 years old, a dark haired Dutchman who was easy going and soft spoken.
I immediately took a liking to Erwin, and once we got settled into our new office space he proceeded to hire more people. He hired a Sri Lankan named Mo, who had recently graduated from the School of the Art Institute.
Mo was quiet, and good natured, and as our department grew, and needed more help, Mo recommended to Erwin friends of his who had also graduated from the Art Institute.
After a couple of years I found myself surrounded by painters, potters, and musicians. We were all there to work an easy day, collect our pay, and then live for the night when we could pursue our dreams and passions.
After 6 months of working with Erwin he agreed to allow me to work from 2:00-10:00pm. I loved being outdoors and in the sun, so working 9:00-5:00 was not something I enjoyed. Starting at 2:00pm, I had my mornings free to wander the city and photograph.
Not having a wife or girlfriend, I did not have to worry about socializing in the evenings, and working evenings was a perfect excuse to give to someone who invited me to a bar or party.
In 1994 Morningstar left the Monadnock building because it was now employing over 300 people, and moved to a newly built office building on the corner of Wacker and Orleans, the Chicago River flowing right across the street. I loved walking across the Orleans Street bridge to get to and from work, as I now exited the train at the Merchandise Mart station.
It was soon after moving into the new building that Erwin hired Joseph, another friend of Mo's, and a recent graduate of the Art Institute.
to be continued.....
Orange Kay :
After 2 months of working at Morningstar I moved out of my parent's home and moved to Chicago. I found a cheap studio apartment in Uptown, a block from Foster Ave beach. Considering that my path was photography, the building was appropriately called the Parc Paris.
One of the things the landlord was happy about was that I owned a car, because he could count on me paying to use the building's parking lot.
While it was true that I owned a car at the time I signed the lease, I did not think it necessary to tell the landlord that I planned on selling it once I got settled in, which took only one day.
When I stopped by the landord's office after my first month to pay the rent, he asked about my car, and where I was parking it. When I told him I had sold it, a crestfallen look overcame his face. Although I felt a bit sorry about his lost income, I was happy to finally be free of owning a car. I now could walk everywhere, and took public transportation for further jaunts, and loved it.
The Parc Paris was in the midst of being renovated when I moved in, with new flooring being installed in the lobby. I soon realized that I was one of the few tenants currently living in the building. I kind of liked it that way, it was quiet, and it felt as if some of the hallways were haunted with shady transactions from days gone by.
If I looked out my east facing windows I could see a sliver of the lake far off to the left, but the main view was dominated by the building across the way, with a parking lot separating the two.
It was not a very safe neighborhood. One evening as I had the candles burning and Mozart on the stereo, I heard a racket in the parking lot below and looked to see 2 men removing a tire from a car. Once the tire was removed the two men began to run down the street, rolling the tire with them.
One block west was Vietnam Town, which was a 2 block collection of stores and restaurants owned by Vietnamese people on Argyle Street. The elevated train stopped in the middle of Vietnam Town, so I walked through the area almost everyday.
It wasn't a bad painting, considering he had to put up with various people looking over his shoulder. Over the next few months I would see the man out there, painting the different scenes and buildings of Argyle Street. The main thing I remember about his work was that everything was dominated by a red and blue color scheme.
I took the elevated train to work Monday-Friday, and realized I liked train travel better than driving. I think at that time I was reading the poems of Rilke and Miloz, which put a somber, romantic touch to my daily train travels.
I also spent time writing lengthy journal entries while I sat on the train. I loved to write, and was inspired by all the things which surrounded me.
Morningstar is a financial publisher, and at the time I started in 1991 had just 175 employees. I was hired into the circulation department, and when a shipping department was added a few months later, I moved into it with my manager and a couple of others.
My manager, Erwin, started working there a few weeks after me. I had a chance to see his resume and saw that he graduated with a degree in fine arts painting. He was about 34 or 35 years old, a dark haired Dutchman who was easy going and soft spoken.
I immediately took a liking to Erwin, and once we got settled into our new office space he proceeded to hire more people. He hired a Sri Lankan named Mo, who had recently graduated from the School of the Art Institute.
Mo was quiet, and good natured, and as our department grew, and needed more help, Mo recommended to Erwin friends of his who had also graduated from the Art Institute.
After a couple of years I found myself surrounded by painters, potters, and musicians. We were all there to work an easy day, collect our pay, and then live for the night when we could pursue our dreams and passions.
After 6 months of working with Erwin he agreed to allow me to work from 2:00-10:00pm. I loved being outdoors and in the sun, so working 9:00-5:00 was not something I enjoyed. Starting at 2:00pm, I had my mornings free to wander the city and photograph.
Not having a wife or girlfriend, I did not have to worry about socializing in the evenings, and working evenings was a perfect excuse to give to someone who invited me to a bar or party.
In 1994 Morningstar left the Monadnock building because it was now employing over 300 people, and moved to a newly built office building on the corner of Wacker and Orleans, the Chicago River flowing right across the street. I loved walking across the Orleans Street bridge to get to and from work, as I now exited the train at the Merchandise Mart station.
It was soon after moving into the new building that Erwin hired Joseph, another friend of Mo's, and a recent graduate of the Art Institute.
to be continued.....
Orange Kay :
2 comments:
Pretty wild how tied into everything everything is. The universe seems to be bending to your will, so to speak.
You sound like me when I was in my twenties (and thirties) as far as the benefits of working nights went.
It is like when I send a letter to someone - a couple of days later I'm in the middle of doing something, and all of a sudden I remember the letter, and I have the strange sensation that the reason I am remembering the letter is because the person at that moment has just opened it and is reading it.
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