The words here are an excerpt from a collage poem I made several years ago. Here is the full poem, only missing a few lines below. It is always nice to look back / reexamine / reapply. No state of art (of mine) is permanent, and I often change directions. In this case, I paired a few lines with a photograph I took at the beach this past March, and have added a few more photos here to bring alive the day a little more.
The mood is of lost innocence with the abandoned tricycle chained up, its seat laying helplessly beside it on the ground. The lost toys reinforce the gloomy tone. Elmo and an Ugly Doll, left behind by some heartbroken child or an even more dejected adult.
The players on basketball courts, palms trees in the foggy distance and the wayward with the “Fuck Trump” backpack are reminders of where we were. The Pacific Coast in Southern California.
A wild end of the road, where all walks of life cross paths with sun-bleached hair and stoned eyes, the strangest of feelings: a cold isolation and warm hopeful cheeks mixed with a certain vague comradery, freedom with a hint of gentrifying oppression, wondering what will happen next.