Archives for posts with tag: detail
The book is done, pre-orders for signed copies have been brisk. And of course, my mind is already moving forwards, further along. Art happens now, in the moment; exhibition and presentation always happens in the past. Art is always abandoned, never finished. New work leaps out of somewhere I cannot know. New things surface to my eyes, the next book project is already on the table. It is carrying a working title of The Drum … 

But the book signing and reception is coming up next week! 

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Ways Together

Come to the reception and book-signing!

ModernBook Gallery
49 Geary Ave, San Francisco, CA
August 2nd, 5:30-7:30 pm

I’ll be taking pre-orders until Thursday, write me at godfreydigiorgi@me.com for details. 

I hope to see you at ModernBook Gallery … ! 

– Godfrey
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The year flies by, and crawls at the same time. Memorial Day coming up already. Wow.

I was in Portland, Oregon last weekend. There was a thriving Japan Town in Portland as World War II broke. The Oregonian headline on a sad day shortly after December 7, 1941 announced “Portland: First Jap Free City!” as thousands of Japanese were trucked off into internment camps. 
This sculpture, in a park by the Willamette River in downtown Portland, honors the memory of the innocent Japanese Americans who suffered as war criminals for the duration of the war. It affected me, and affects me still. 

We must not forget—without remembrance, without history, we will all repeat our mistakes over and over again. 
Jumble

It was a chilly, and wet, weekend. My Saturday morning walk through Guadalupe River Park was a meander, as I had a friend walking with me. It’s difficult to concentrate on seeing when there is someone who wants to talk nearby. 

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Near and far, far and near. My vision would not settle although the light was beautiful. I wanted the longer lens, then I wanted the macro lens. Had only the one with me; it was enough. 

The whole weekend was caught in this slow oscillation between tick and tock. A few more photos will surface. Later in the week. 

It goes like this sometimes. Focus returns at its own whim. 

– Godfrey
The air, misty, smells of salt and sea this morning. I walk my mile to the coffee shop and think. Homeless woman with her wide wicker hat and bag of belongings sleeps on the sidewalk in the cool mist four blocks from my apartment door. A shard of leaf and pavement catches my attention: I make a photograph. Walk on, think, and try to see.

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Onwards, I return.