The snapshots...the ROAR
September 19, 2007
I've started work on several small (page and a half and most) snapshot images as seen by the main character in the new book. He sees these frozen pictures in his mind and can recognize the fundamental elements, but does not know names, or importance, or relationship. Something in his subconcious is preventing this realization. So the pictures are simply pictures. Nothing moves....
(3)
This is a picture of a sleeping woman, her still form on a bed, lying on her side. The sheets are a mess of grey around her. A thick, mauve-coloured quilt is scrunched at the end of the bed. Her hip is thrust-up, exposed – the line of her body is a sculpted, curvaceous landscape – supple and long. There is nothing hard about this body – it holds no tension. Three candles on the dresser across the room, two of which are still lit, make a small grey light. Dark wooden Venetian blinds are pulled down but allow slivers of light to section the darkness. A bottle of champagne is upside down in a silver bucket on the bedside table. Books are piled on this table and also fill a narrow shelf that runs the length of the headboard. A pile of sideways books at both ends holds the upright books in place. There’s a painting of a narrow, long-necked woman on the wall beside the bed. This picture is enclosed by a thick, dark frame. This is not a hotel room.
He imagines the smell of vanilla. Her face is not visible, but he imagines this woman is satiated, happy. The picture-taker is standing in the hallway looking into the room. Did this person take this picture on their way back with another bottle of champagne? In the doorway, sees her body on the bed. Thinks: this is beautiful. Wonders: where is my camera? Places the bottle of champagne on the floor. Gets the camera, frames the picture, takes the picture. He wonders if she heard the shutter, leaned up in the bed and said, “hey…what?...” And perhaps the picture taker captures her question as well. But there is no hint to suggest she leaned up into the room. Nor are there any hints to suggest pictures prior to, or after, this one. There will be a perfect circle of condensation on the hardwood floor, from the sweating champagne bottle. This is a vulnerable position, he thinks. To expose one’s back and buttocks like this speaks about trust and faith, and comfort. She trusts the picture-taker. This speaks of love. He thinks he ought to know this horizontal woman. There is some nuance he cannot put his finger on that resonates with familiarity. But what? He looks closer. If only this mental image would move. If only she would sit up and turn toward the picture taker and smile. Then he would know.
Go to the The ROAR website and come out on Friday, September 21, for a glass or two, and a lot of spoken-word, poetry -- ELEVEN shows in one night.