“ Time and space are the tools of the observer.” – Emmanuel Kant
Pale sunlight paints the sidewalk in charcoal shapes, revealing delicate calligraphy previously hidden by cool rain. Patience has fled as winter keeps looking back, finding ways to linger and chase away any warmth.
The signs are all there – the wood smoke of autumn replaced by the exquisite scent of flowers, the crows who were playing just days ago now scouting for leafing trees in which to build sturdy nests for the young yet to come and in the lush green enveloping great swathes of the park whenever I look out my windows.
On a day without a book, a spring-scented rain is falling again, the air alive with the perfume of poplar trees making one dream of summer. Thankfully, photography and art exhibitions are claiming my attention in between bookish worlds – I recently enjoyed a free photography exhibit at the Pendulum Gallery downtown, showcasing the work of Canadian photojournalists bravely documenting our dynamic world, ranging from the tragic earthquake in Mexico in 2017 to last summer’s wildfires up near Williams Lake here in British Columbia. After this rare interlude, I met my friend at the Vancouver Art Gallery (we often meet on a Tuesday to take advantage of the admission by donation hours!) to check out the wild and colourful Takashi Murakami exhibit, spending over an hour taking in all the wonderful ice cream dripping details.
The city is full of photography at the moment with the Capture Photography Festival in full swing – I came across a cool quote (which opens my post) as I took in a small exhibit at the Moat Gallery located at our downtown public library, my next wander is slated for the Listel Hotel on Robson St. to check out, Capture Dreams Powered by Fujifilm, another Group Exhibition taking part in the festival, lovely distractions as my next read remains elusive!
A weekend walk by the ocean yielded some welcome sights underneath a sunny sky – an older gentleman sitting on a worn bench engrossed in Ernest Hemingway, his eyes intent on the pages with the briny scent of the sea wafting through the air, colourful rubber balls being thrown back and forth by happy children on the damp sand and the appearance of once hibernating neighbours on the seawall, faces smiling in the burgeoning warmth, summoning down the spring.