If you come to visit Port Angeles, you will be captivated by its beauty. If you stay for a while, you will get a more realistic look. This is a artist book about the Port Angeles that is growing in my heart.
Here’s how it happens.
The clouds sink under the mountains
to the south.
Venus hums above.
A red copter circles the sea
to the north,
and tankers shoot the harbor to light.
A solstice breeze questions
between the trees. The town below
circles like a frost dog
to begin its sleep.
On the bluff above bag-piper sings vespers,
a little ragged
but sad and sweet.
Grey frigid noon.
A gathering of crows
warms the highest branches.
Then they scatter, an episode worthy of Hitchcock.
a creek of newly melted snow
rampages. Its teeth bite the sky.
It shouts escape from its cement captivity,
gallops bridge under bridge under bridge,
barely notices the cable-bound timber
that lines its course.
These water-dense logs
provide a homeless shelter
hidden from vigilantes,
nights of cold rest
imprint the sand.
The crows spy
an orange syringe in the rocks.
The belted kingfisher hovers,
The creek surges into the sea,
mane and tail.
Downtown you will find a great whale.
Its skin — an iridescent bubble —
undulates in the early breeze,
head draped over warehouses,
tail sunk into deep harbor.
One immense bone — a chiseled,
polished, stone vertebra — anchors
our whale to the cropped lawn and regulated roses
in the city park.
One sleepless woman watches
and remembers a time before the whale fed itself
to crabs and smoke-eyed ravens.
Her twisted fingers speak of cold
and the the hunger of small birds.
She watches the morning children
emerge from SUV belts and tumble
into the park.
Untutored by memory
measure their thin edges
to the convex and concave
of the whale’s vertebra.
Affixed to the present, they grin into dad’s camera
through a neural canal.
Scenes and Musings in PA is a book of my observations made in the town of Port Angeles, WA on the northern slopes of the Olympic Peninsula.
The Whale is based on a sculpture by Alex Anderson at the Valley Creek Estuary Park.
The horse draws its inspiration from poems by Pablo Neruda.
The anonymous bag-piper really did play, magically and alone, on the bluff above downtown PA as described.
I made the drawings on a Wacom tablet, directly into Photoshop. We are very lucky to have an active figure drawing group not very far from Port Angeles.
Photos, drawings, writings, design, printing and binding, and paste paper by me. (The binding is a double dos-a-dos construction with a slip cover.) And Oola stole the old map of Port Angeles from the web.
Spring is pumping like a hurdy-gurdy here, and the first salmon berries are poking their pink goodbyes to Winter.
You can enlarge any image by clicking on it.