“Philosophy is written in that great book which ever is before our eyes — I mean the universe — but we cannot understand it if we do not first learn the language and grasp the symbols in which it is written. The book is written in mathematical language, and the symbols are triangles, circles and other geometrical figures, without whose help it is impossible to comprehend a single word of it; without which one wanders in vain through a dark labyrinth.”
“Judging from the spiderwebs clinging to it, the emergency stairway was hardly ever used. To each web clung a small black spider, patiently waiting for its small prey to come along. Not that the spiders had any awareness of being “patient”. A spider had no special skill other than building its web, and no lifestyle choice other than sitting still. It would stay in one place waiting for its prey until, in the natural course of things, it shriveled up and died. This was all genetically predetermined. The spider had no confusion, no despair, no regrets. No metaphysical doubt, no moral complications. Probably. Unlike me.
I move,therefore I am.”
― Haruki Murakami, 1Q84
“They swore by concrete. They built for eternity.”
― Gunter Grass
“When Armageddon takes place, parking is going to be a major problem.”
― J.G. Ballard, Millennium People
“There was a wish to get something exceptional, … I also wanted to deliver something technically unique.”
Masses of construction equipment in the Trinity River Bottoms are roiling the mud with steel and concrete. The work area, like a giant’s anthill, is called The Horseshoe.
A second Calatrava designed bridge arcs up into the air. I’m a bit confused – this one is in one sense only window decoration – the cars will be relegated to the conventional concrete causeway. On the other hand, the arches will support bicycle and pedestrian spans. That is a cool thing, in my mind.
I only wonder how people on foot or on pedaled wheels will reach the bridges. I guess we’ll all wait and see.
“Up on the Brooklyn Bridge a man is standing in agony, waiting to jump, or waiting to write a poem, or waiting for the blood to leave his vessels because if he advances another foot the pain of his love will kill him.”
― Henry Miller, Black Spring
Clearly messed with using Illustrator and Photoshop.
From above, the Margaret Hunt Hill Bridge – the Dallas Calatrava-designed cable-stay signature bridge finally reaching across the Trinity River from Downtown to long-neglected, oft-reviled West Dallas – is an architectural marvel of geometry, steel, and curves.
It has a dirty little secret, though. It isn’t really a bridge over much of anything. It’s more of a causeway with a huge, expensive, and dramatic sculpture tacked on overhead.
This is obvious when you venture into the vast stretches of the river bottoms. You can see the forest of columns holding up the span.
But still, even there, it is a thing of beauty. A different beauty – a more muscular, less soaring beauty – but beauty nonetheless.
I like it. If nothing else it offers up a vast strip of welcome cool shade.
“A human being is a part of the whole called by us universe, a part limited in time and space. He experiences himself, his thoughts and feeling as something separated from the rest, a kind of optical delusion of his consciousness. This delusion is a kind of prison for us, restricting us to our personal desires and to affection for a few persons nearest to us. Our task must be to free ourselves from this prison by widening our circle of compassion to embrace all living creatures and the whole of nature in its beauty.”
― Albert Einstein
“The sky grew darker, painted blue on blue, one stroke at a time, into deeper and deeper shades of night.”
― Haruki Murakami, Dance Dance Dance
Now that I’ve figured out how to carry my tripod on my bike, I’ve been experimenting with long exposures at night. Here’s a shot of a couple watching the Expanded Cinema show on the Omni Hotel in Downtown Dallas.
“May I kiss you then? On this miserable paper? I might as well open the window and kiss the night air.”
― Franz Kafka
It’s a long exposure – look at the long, red lines that represent cars driving by in the parking lot. The bright white bar across the center of the photo are the headlights on Interstate Highway 35.
This is what it looked like live.
“When the Deep Purple falls,
Over sleepy garden walls,
And the stars begin to flicker in the sky,
Thru the mist of a memory
You wander back to me,
Breathing my name with a sigh.
In the still of the night,
Once again I hold you tight,
Tho’ you’re gone, your love lives on
When moonlight beams.
And as long as my heart will beat
Lover, we’ll always meet
Here in my Deep Purple dreams.”
—-Parish Mitchell, Deep Purple