Dream Street is really N. Grand in Eugene, my street in the late fall of 2012. It is an everyday street scene made strange through the magic of my i-Pad photo apps, but I don’t think the fact that the changes are technological changes the artistic drive. I experience this kind of art the same way I experienced drawing on black paper. I am accessing and expressing dream imagery, source imagery, digging down to the well where the listening gets really good.
This image reminds me that layers of history predate my presence here. Even in my own double decade, so many odd, dreamlike things have happened on this street: the time the car was set on fire in front of our house; the time twelve eagles flew low overhead and lingered to fish before flying on south to the Klamath wintering grounds; the days of snow and ice that transfigure the world; stories of our neighbors; stories of the days when the bottom of the street was in the flood zone and neighbors visited by rowboat.
We all live on an aquifer of stories…
One thought on “Dream Street”
"We all live in an aquifer of stories." Gotta love it, you and Lloyd and Kim Stafford are on that wave length. Your Dream Street is a dream street for me as well. A permanent image – your lane in spring, exploding with blossoming trees. Dozens of long walks, you and me identifying birds, taking pictures, marveling at the changing, changing mood of the simple lane where you live.