H
e a r t S o n s & H e a r t D a u g h t e r s of A l l e n G i n s
b e r g
N
a p a l m H e a l t h S p a : R e p o r t 2 0 1 4 : A r c h i
v e s E d i t i o n
JAMES RUGGIA
With Hopper and Reznikoff
in Thailand
In today's New
York Times, Jori Finkel writes of Edward
Hopper's enormous influence
on our culture
and quotes the owner of a San Francisco gallery as saying, "Hopper is
huge,” Mr. Fraenkel said. “I think he’s had a pervasive impact on the
way we see the
world, so pervasive
as to be almost invisible." I'm not as sure as Finkel
is, that Hopper
was the first
artist or writer to capture the spirit that we find in Hopper's paintings, but
I
agree that his
impact is so large as to be invisible. Certainly, the spirit that moves through
Hopper, moves
with a presence much larger than style, and is more accurately described
as a sensibility.
I won't attempt
to describe Hopper's impact on others, but I know that his paintings have
given me an approach
to the situations I find myself in all of the time as a travel writer in
strange lands. When
you travel alone, and frequently, as I do, you often find yourself in
an interior zone
that feels much like what comes out of one of Hopper's urban scenes.
You're in a
cafe, a hotel lobby or buying a newspaper and you're somehow inside of but
not part of the
social dance going on around you. Simultaneously isolating and
comforting, there is a
tangible relief in not being attached to your own history.
It calls to
mind the Objectivist poetry of Charles Reznikoff. His
most famous line
describes how the ruins
of a building can create that otherworldly feeling.
The house-wreckers have left the door and the
staircase,
now
leading to the empty room of night
When we rip
ourselves out of our normal contexts, we are essentially leaving only the
door and the
staircase of our lives. As in the poem above, that often frames the edge
between where our
thoughts & observations border on the big mysterious night beyond.
A few years
ago, drinking beers in a ramshackle roadside bar in Pattaya,
Thailand, it
occurred to me that it
was precisely this feeling, as in a Hopper painting, that I was
traveling to find. At
that moment, the bar maid sat opposite me. She asked where I was
from and what had
brought me to Pattaya. I answered and asked how
things were going
for her.
It was a
friendly, disanimated conversation between two
disconnected lives, looking out from the tangle of their own stories, for a
relief from those stories.
March 1, 2009
[Reprinted
from Unacknowledged Legislations, unacknowledgedlegislations.blogsopt.com, by
permission of the author. Originally published in NHS 2009,
http://www.poetspath.com/napalm/nhs09/James_Ruggia.htm.]