Art... July 20

One can never truly recreate an experience. A friendship, the ambiance of a party, or the feel of the city on a certain day. The previous day, during my customary tour of the streets, I saw many things I had wished I could have photographed, but I had left my camera behind. Everywhere I had looked, there was an something that I wanted to capture. The way the crane operator slept with his feet against the window, high off the ground, as he waited to lift the next dumpster bin from the roof. The way the light caught the frame of the hidden door in the wall. The way an African family, brightly dressed in their colourful robes, walked down the street.

This day, I left my hostel with the thoughts of capturing what I had seen before. As I wandered, I realized I could not photograph what had already happened. The moment was gone. So lost in thought, I missed much of what was new and should be photographed. Even as pulled myself into the present, I could not bring myself to photograph the strange beauty I see in every object and space. Perhaps I was too concerned with how my photographs would be perceived by others and that is a terrible thing to think. Admittedly though, seeing every second tourist with a camera taking the same photos over and over again is discouraging. When does one become deserving to be bold enough to proclaim his ideas are "art"?

My aimless wandering took me to an alley where a man was spray painting his thoughts on a wall already covered with an array of strange creatures. Mouths and eyes and ears and arms were all randomly placed around a blob of monster staring out at passers-by. At first, I wanted to engage in conversation as I had with the Carlos, the man from Rio, but thought better of it. He acknowledge my presence with a brief nod and I stood quietly to watch him create another monster to join the ranks of his mates.

Using only spray cans, he brought to life the lines and patterns and colours that would form his newest creature. Thin black lines became the outline of eyes, filled in with white. More black horizontal lines created the pattern of the odd fellow's mouth. Blue paint was brought out again to over-spray the patterns to make them complete and clean. Hair sprouted from the top of its head, looking very much like an unkempt school boy. Before my eyes, the vision of this man appeared from atomized paint into an entity with a personality and history one could easily imagine.

I watched only for a little while, snapping a few photos before quietly wandering off. I don't know if he saw me leave or if he cared. It doesn't really matter I suppose, he wasn't making art for me or for any one else I imagine. He was doing it for his own sake or at least for the sake of his pets.