What a day. Tonight Caroline and I went to a performance of Gustav Holst’s The Planets with narration by Professor Lawrence Krauss, but the big draw was a talk following the symphony by Professor Stephen Hawking titled My Brief History. As we were walking out we spotted Werner Herzog, whose latest film Cave of Forgotten Dreams we will be watching tomorrow at Tempe Center for the Arts. After this Arizona Premiere, he will be giving a talk about the movie. Behind Mr. Herzog and Caroline is Cormac McCarthy, author of All The Pretty Horses and No Country for Old Men. What a truly amazing day.
An Excerpt
A brief one-paragraph excerpt from my forthcoming book titled Stay In The Magic about an extraordinary experience in the Grand Canyon on an 18-day rafting trip:
Did you truly see what was there? Did you hear what wasn’t? Will you carry nothing of everything that was or everything of what might have been? If it doesn’t fit in your eyes, let it enter through your ears, and when your ears can hear no more, it is time to take a deep breath with lungs full, open your mouth, and taste the experience with the flavor of life passing over your lips some will surely spill away, grab for it and stuff what you can in your pockets, and as you become weighted down and laden with this wealth, allow it to enter your mind until it too is satiated. Upon overwhelming your thoughts, the imagination will become impregnated, leading to a birth of awareness in your heart that your soul will nourish, leaving you the recipient of the magic of life.
Art and Influence
One of Caroline and my first trips together was to the Belgian coast, a place I often thought I would like to live. In the small town of Oostende, I brought Caroline to the James Ensor House and Museum. I had been here once before and now wish I might once more have the opportunity to visit again someday. The dearth of interesting museums dedicated to the work of evocative artists here in America leaves a lot to be desired. For example, we visited the Warhol Museum in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, and it’s just a big old office building commandeered as a drab resting place for some of his work.
The next stop on this trip was my third visit to the Paul Delvaux Museum. Along with Otto Dix and Francis Bacon, Delvaux was one of my favorite artists. On my first visit, a visitor who was also enamored with the work of one of Belgium’s greatest artists told me that the man himself had been at the museum just the day before. He described the most piercing blue eyes and fragile, lithe fingers that impressed this visitor with the idea that those hands had created such beautiful works of art. This stranger was back for a second visit with the hopes that Delvaux might make another appearance. Delvaux was already 90 back then on my first visit; he would live another seven years before passing on in 1994.
Zeebrugge, Belgium
From that old black and white film we had developed, these photos of Caroline and I were taken while walking along the North Sea in Zeebrugge, Belgium – a favorite place of mine in winter. During the summers on the coast of Belgium, the crowds are heavy, the cafes full. But in the winter, the beach is empty, cold, and windy. The cafes that stay open year-round are mostly empty at this time. Black and white photography accurately captures the wintery gray feeling while strolling next to the dark black sea.
John Wise
John Wise is pictured here. Yep, that’s me. The beard was thin back in 1989. I had just recently fallen in love with and subsequently moved in with Caroline Engelhardt. We would hang out in Europe, living a decadent, bohemian life, enjoying the nightlife, music, art, culture, and depravity that two young outsiders were enthusiastically embracing. We read too much, were enamored with a rich sub-culture, and were a bit unconventional – but as much as many of our acquaintances. Maybe we were just lazy and delusional; it’s hard to tell when living in a blur.
Caroline Engelhardt
Recently, we decided to take over a dozen old point-and-shoot film cameras that we no longer had any idea what might be on them. We had considered dumping them, figuring that at over a dozen years old, and some may be more than 20 years since photos were put onto their film, what could possibly come out of them besides an expensive bill? Well, there were a few priceless photos of Caroline and me. Including this one taken in what was likely 1989. Caroline long ago quit smoking; the same can’t be said about bathing.
Our apartment back then was on Gluckstrasse 8 in Frankfurt, Germany. For the six years we lived together there, we never had heating. The landlord wanted to split the cost, and we didn’t want to afford it; that’s technically illegal as we were renters, and as such, we are not supposed to pay for things we cannot take when we move. Our bathtub was not part of the bathroom; it was in what would qualify as a doorless closet that was part of the living room. The toilet was in the hallway, while the tub had a great view of the TV, nice for watching a movie. Back then, if we were watching a movie, it was something along the lines of Desperate Living by John Waters – we could relate.