Q2’s Helga Davis’ Essay for Thanksgiving Week
So, here is Helga’s essay:
“I finally know what it is…
The birds are gone.
It was their song that welcomed me into each Spring day and the absence of their melodies has finally caught my attention.
I take up the camera and without imposing an agenda, I walk and think about the music for this week; what melodies can accompany the silence left by Spring?
Slowly, I begin to see what I cannot yet hear: A street vendor’s grilled onions and stained indigo handwritten sign thanking customers for tips; a partially eaten doughnut with pink frosting and red and green Christmas sprinkles beckons me from the window of a kindergarten class; a freed shopping cart makes off with his expectant lover — an oversized silver suitcase, open and exposing its insides to passersby; an American flag waving its proud head from the ground where it was planted right next to a tree that sits dangerously close to the hind leg of the approaching terrier; the homeless man who patiently holds his sign and his humanity between his hands while I snap a picture…
These signs of the times tell me that there is a new song at play here. I hear it now as this week’s music begins to reveal itself. At times I feel totally unfamiliar with these melodies. I am anxious for some part of them to repeat so that i may begin to learn. But perhaps we’re in the throes of some celestial improvisation…
and there is nothing to do,
but let go.
Helga Davis and Harold McClendon at Union Square (Elettra Bottazzi)
Thank you, Helga.