"voyages"
the story of Cho's kweejibo clothing co., a men's shirtmaker and shop in San Francisco, all locally manufactured across the bay in Oakland, copyright March 2012
(Return to kweejibo stories, May 2012, for First part of the Series, published every month)
kweejibo machine print cotton petal-collar blouse
image framed by fragment of Autour d'elle
(Around her) by Marc Chagall, 1945
kweejibo inset panel hand-dyed jacket
kweejibo hand-dyed suit
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surreal art history critique post modern graffiti
kweejibo kimono coat, hand-dyed collar and cuffs
image framed by fragment of Autour d'elle
(Around her), Marc Chagall, 1945
as a young man, my grandfather moved to Burma, seeing it as a “Promised Land”, a place where no one could starve. this Burma is such a fertile place plants seem to push up out of the earth at astonishing speed. this land is rich in precious gems, such as rubies, emeralds. my family then saw America in the same light, a place safe from the odd vicissitudes endured under life with the Burmese military junta. I, too, dream of other lives, life in other countries and cultures.
Le Paysage bleu, Marc Chagall, 1949
i decide that i need a break and a change of air from Haight Street.
i go to Turkey for one month in 1999 and another month in 2000. i also spend a few weeks in Belize, visiting the immense barrier reef, with its' beautiful and timid eagle rays, surprisingly docile nurse sharks and southern sting-rays. i reach Thailand and Cambodia for the first time the winter of 2000.
Details :
i learn to swim on tiny islands in Belize or Thailand, far off from the mainland. i spend my days in the water, flying over coral jungles alongside sharks, manta, eel, octopus and squid, huge schools of little fish. i move through a different more viscous air.
Les Amoureux en vert, Marc Chagall, 1916-1917
the year 2000 is a time when being in an airport can be almost enjoyable. one does not yet have to listen to the incessant repetitive song of announcements to be mindful of suspicious behavior.
It is still a relief to get out of the airports and out into the sounds of the Istanbul streets, into the repetition of the call to prayer. with this unearthly sound, i may not be moved to believe that "there is no God but the one God", but i can be moved by the centuries of meditation and thought behind each prayer.
Au-dessus de VItebsk, Chagall, 1915-1920
Cappadocia in Turkiye, affects the body chemistry. all molecules are still present, none have been removed, but they have been shifted and some unknown element added. the land contains still the energy of ancient extinct volcanos whose fine ash has produced a unique almost-white soil. this soil resembles sand so closely, people are surprised to find orchards growing in a desert-like mirage. the land is fertile in volcanic minerals from another time. i listen to the call to prayer by the muezzin, five times a day. please remember to take your body with you when you leave.
i hike in ever shift-shaping canyons, where bright sun is suddenly obscured by snow or hail from one minute to the next. this can trigger a process beginning with avalanche which transforms the landscape continually. this process accompanied by wind or hail or rain which transforms the bizarrely shaped rocks into ever more strange shapes. this is the fluvial geomorphology of Cappadocia.
Cappadocia grape vines, above.
