About a year ago there were frightful indications that something was afoot in a city in China. We were hearing that a major city named Wuhan had had to close itself off because of a frightful new disease. We weren't hearing about the number of deaths, of course, in a closed society such as China, with a one-party system, they were not about to be transparent. However, they were taking drastic measures, and the uneasy quakes were reaching us over here. This was the end of February, and on the 29th (Leap Day), I was at Balboa Park to photograph a dance competition known as the Axis Leap Year event.
It was a memorable event, and I enjoyed my time there. By and large I obtained good photos, but I didn't publish very many of them. I was in the stage where I was thinking that I should not be investing so much time into selecting and uploading them, I needed more time for myself, but I still loved taking photos. It was a warm day, I was sitting next to a fellow photographer who has been very supportive, and I enjoyed the variety.
Later on, I didn't stay to watch the awards. I never do at these events, I just hate seeing the look of disappointment. So, I ambled off, and the House of Pacific Relations Cottages were supposed to have one of their weekend events, but nothing was going on, so I ventured in another direction. I went to the Japanese Garden, a place in Balboa Park that I had never seen before, because, of course, I was not interested in taking photos of gardens back then.
I paid and walked around, and I loved what I saw. I had my 4x5 Travelwide camera, and I remember reloading the film holders because I wanted to be ready. I wandered about and was mesmerized, and this was, perhaps, my introduction to the enchantments of artificial spaces, that is, gardens. This was an amazing place, everything was so artfully arranged, and I had to linger and try out new perspectives, even though I was neither a landscape nor garden photographer, I was a cultural dance documentarian (a term I invented).
So, March came around, and by the middle of the month things were getting out of hand. We were hearing frightful news from Europe, where the virus was now taking a toll especially in Italy, and there were worrying reports about the first cases here in the USA. It got so bad that we heard the report that San Franciscans were being urged to "shelter in place", and suddenly, the governor of our state was telling us the same thing. It was the first state order issued in the entire nation, and everyone in the rest of the country looked at us as if we were out of our minds. The university suspended classes around March 13th, and we transitioned to virtual mode. The news got worse and worse, and the horrendous death toll in New York truly frightened us. Of course, nearly a year later, California has surpassed it in absolute numbers by several thousands, we had our own frightful winter surge that took a heavy toll on life, but back then, we still thought we might be saved. We weren't, of course, and now, with over 500,000 deaths in the USA, we wonder about how we will wake up from this nightmare.
Well, I had to take a mental health day today, so no classes. I drove to San Diego, first to Chicano Park, then a quick visit to the Japanese Garden at Balboa Park. I am extremely exhausted, but I needed this outing. I spent three hours photographing mural at Chicano Park, and about an hour and a half at Balboa Park. I loved my visit, but all the while, I was thinking, this was my return after a little more than one year to a place of peace and fervent activity, and I was so much more somber. I am getting over the death of my father, I still think of him all the time and, when I am away, I imagine him at home, sitting in the couch, ready to greet me with a slightly disapproving glare when I return, but I love him nonetheless. Now, we have lost more family members, now, his sister, my tía Socorro, passed away about two and a half months ago, and I am more world weary than I can imagine.
We will be lucky if we leave any marks on this world. All our histories disappear, no one takes them down, our hopes, worries, fears, they vanish into thin air, and we are gone in the blink of an eye. But at least, for a few hours, I did something I love to do. Permanence is an illusion, and I will learn to accept that, but what I do is still a tribute to life.
Here are a few photos of my visit to the Japanese Garden. I am too exhausted to upload any more from my cellphone, so I will leave it for another day. It was slightly cold today, with mixed clouds, but we are expecting showers for the next three or four days, so if I wanted to escape, today was my day. I left at about 9 a.m., and got back at about 6:40 p.m. It was a long day.
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