Stretching 1.3km, the curving street of Calz de las Republica in Oaxaca hosts a staggering 19 bronze sculptures in varying states of disrepair. One is just a base, with the sculpture having been stolen and melted down for the metal. The street follows the path of a buried river Rio de Jalatlaco.
I met up with Ehren in Oaxaca and she invited me to come with her while she sourced ceramics for her shop. After driving around lost for a while in a complex of unnamed streets in the outer area of Oaxaca city, we finally found F’s studio. Working through improvisation to recover and master traditional methods of ceramic production, F’s work spans from mythological sculptures to tobacco smoked dishes for high end restaurants in L.A. and New York. He was a really interesting and somewhat magical person to talk to.
I wanted to put these photos together to capture the incredible juxtaposition that is Japan. The first photo was taken on the outskirts of Kyoto early in the morning on the way to catch a bus. This very serious looking man passed by quickly on his way to some job or appointment. If I had blinked, I might have missed it. The second photo was taken at a Buddhist temple we stayed at later on our way back from Kyushu. The large iron bell is rung twice a day at 6am and 6pm. I got up one morning to help ring it, and the priest invited me to stand inside as the reverberations of its last toll dissipated back to silence.
Fushimi Inari-taisha is an orange maze of Tori gates that lead you up and down through various forest shrines in Kyoto. Many of the gates are fading, and this man was engaged in the seemingly impossible task of repainting them with a small brush. It struck me that by the time he would get to the end, the gates at the start would need painting again.
This was from one of the last nights with Sandy covering the Festival of Sufi Culture for The View From Fez. Afterwards, we walked home to his riad through the dark labyrinth of thousand year old market streets to drink Moroccan wine (actually pretty good) and look over the photos. I discovered some of the dervishes from Turkey had added me on facebook.
Day 6 of the Festival of Sufi Culture: Whirling Dervishes from Turkey.
A ney is a wooden flute. Branches swayed slowly overhead. I wondered if a two-hundred year old oak appreciates music.