First of May

First of May. A beautiful late afternoon, on the first day in May. Pierwszego Maja, in Warsaw of the 1960’s—the workers’ holiday, as I well remember it, established soon after WWII. High-contrast image of the face of Lenin on a gigantic red banner. But in reality an American tradition—the International Workers’ Day, dating back to the 1880s. Associated with the Haymarket protests in Chicago, and the travails of early union organizing.

Hard to remember that here, with the gentle light through eucalyptus branches. A beautiful setting can mask all manner of sins. Make our errors feel like virtues. (I'm not referring to Lenin, by the way.) The main one here being that nothing has been moved yet—but we’re early in the process, and these notes (I hope!) will help preparing the way. The problem is that everything in this place is laden—too many years of strong connections—and I’ve kept it all intact. I can point to almost anything here and find traces of meaning—a story, a personal connection. Which is beautiful, but also in its own way a burden. How to move forward. (Впериот! Another Soviet usage...) So maybe by writing—together with the pictures—that is, writing in relation the the pictures (for I’ve done each of these posts by starting with the image, letting the text follow…) things will open up…

Open up—yes, a good phrase…and my own...

Anything new here? Well, the camera’s pulled back, so you get a sense of the physical space. And then there’s the desk chair, an old university model that continues to make me feel very much at home. The red naugahyde—and it rolls! Also, leaning against the window wall—a pallet on wheels, with pieces of carpet for padding—saved from the last time I moved these things. Twenty years back. May prove handy again…

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