Friday, January 1, 2010

Gated






There are many gated "communities" in Florida; I prefer to call them subdivisions. While they promise privacy, security and exclusiveness, they lack mystery. I can imagine the look of life behind the gates.

The gated recesses in South Beach are more mysterious because they are varied and offer glimpses of lush interior courtyards and statues like this one. I may look at the fountain, the slim girl with an arched back holding a giant bowl into which water flows, a metal bird perched on the rim, but I am not allowed to enter. I can't stereotype the residents, not even to say they like statues of naked women. Some may turn their eyes away.



















On Meridian Avenue, someone has left a gate open, and I can enjoy the shadows of the palm trees on the pink stucco wall.



















The empty serenity of this interior courtyard draws me in, but just so far. I stand on one side of the iron gate through which I slip my camera.



















The man I met on the beach this morning seems to show everything. His face is ghostly as the Aboriginies who paint themselves with white chalky pigment. I asked him if I could take his picture and whether the salve covering his skin was for the cold. I was thinking of those cold water swimmers in the English Channel who smear their bodies with grease. 'No,' he said. 'It's a cream for my skin.' Did he have an affliction? I asked myself. He did not. 'The cream leaves the skin very smooth,' he said. 'Marvelous,' I said, sounding theatrical. But he was a marvel. When he smiled he looked less ghostly. I wished him Happy New Year. Has he shown us everything? No. Just as a penitent with his or her confessor does not tell all, but by little sins indicates more. The ghostly white suggests penitence and or devotion, like the Saduhs' of India, but this is South Beach of prized smooth skin.



















I wonder what I have shown you about myself: how I like to look into recesses, and speak to strangers, and sometimes sound too dramatic. I would have asked him more, but there were others eager to speak to him.

12 comments:

  1. Looks like everything in SoBe is covered in stucco -- including the citizens.

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  2. fantastic photo of the man and the woman statue looks so art deco. we in seattle have statues of heron or salmon.


    sigh.

    xor

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  3. Amazing contrasts here, Miriam, the man as Bluedog suggests in stucco, the woman in bronze.


    But you're not like that, not stuck in stone or metal, and your curiosity does you credit.

    I'm not sure I'd have had the 'balls' to speak to this fellow. He looks amazing.

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  4. Art Deco, speed lines on the low-rise buildings. No cold-water fish here, Radish. What will I see on my walk this morning? Never could have imagined I would see the Aborigine.

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  5. Apropos of your moon gazing, one notes that New Years Eve hosted the second or blue moon of December. It doesn't happen often and won't again for some time. Hence the expression.

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  6. what a strange civilization: gated communities, men covered with ointments, hoping for miracles, and in contrast, the uncomplicated beauty of the aquamarine blue in the courtyard, the palm frond shadow.

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  7. It is strange; and, I suspect, stranger than we know. Our species!

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  8. It is the age-old adage: Truth is stranger than fiction.

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  9. I've been thinking so much about this post, the gated's and especially the last sentence, that I haven't been sure anymore if I yet put a comment here, or not... Now that I look, I realize I didn't...only in my mind.
    Yes, thats the magic about showing, telling, writing...you always show yourself with it, through cushion...( does that say what I mean???)

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  10. ...aah, and thank you so much for wishing me good luck...

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  11. Even through a screen we reveal ourselves, as you do, Smilla, when you photograph others.

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