Photo-Poem : “Magic at Art Hop 2011” Burlington Vermont

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Photo-Poem combining video stills taken the Friday night of Art Hop 2011 with a few random-other-time images, threaded fictionally by poetry, creating a story of the feelings evoked by the memories of the pictures and events.

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“a beginner’s view : the intent of this blog is to incrementally build a body of thought that works toward integrating various topics, yoga, fitness, and the arts – it’s a process…”

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photo-poem : “art hop 2011” burlington vermont

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if the words endure, they do so because they link the links –

and,

if the images endure, they do so because they illuminate them

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the two videos i pulled the stills from are on my youtube channel

art hop friday night has its own video, and the visit during the day to the small inlet near the main street of the festival does also

[note added 030312] special thanks to sambatucada, afro-brazilian percussion group, shown in five of the last six images of the photo-poem! great sound and co-hesiveness 😉

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it was time!

art hop had skipped onto the calendar

the day was cool yet warmly greeted us, we were off –

to be at art hop

to have it occupy us

as we’d inhabit

stalls and walls of art, booths of food and

music wafting from way down somewhere

yet unseen

there, down a ways

there,

across the street with cars and merging

stars

there

along old tracks

run by trains no longer hauling

there

in chairs outside

the boxcars now gone

musicians laid new tracks of oldies drinking in

the growing darkness of night’s

restive still-quiet crowds

spaces opened light into the glowing

night

then

sounds of set ups

amps and wattage

watching

waiting

the lookers had prepared

had

strung blank

canvases of light

contrasts, friends of night

calling those inside –

pawn your indoor sleep!

and

wake!

shadow-glows burst

into drums and horns and flaring

wails with secret smiles we see in real time – timing our hearts

snaring drumming dreams

it followed us and we followed too…

exhausting us

like an army leaving without orders

it was over

and left its

imprint

played randomly

now

when

passing

sounds of night’s

secret fevers

find their way across remote controls left

uncontrolled

on sofas wanting only softness

wanting only

playfulness

wanting

art hop

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namaste´- con dios – god be with you

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