So I was all excited this morning, because I had three days' worth of pictures to put up on my new blog. And, you know, new blog is more exciting than old blog. It's also easier, 'cause I don't have to put any stupid word-things in there.
But of course I couldn't find the magical computer-connecting cord to bring my camera & computer together. Because I cleaned this weekend. I can't imagine where it could be. Generally, I am pretty sensible with where I put things.
So no exciting Friday night futon action. No pink buildings. No nature-communing. Blah.
On a side note: I went to the downtown farmers market this weekend. The one in SE Portland commences this Thursday, & is much closer to me, but I figured I'd get a head start. It wasn't as big as I thought it would be, but it was pretty fantastic. I think everything there is organic. For real. I'm pretty sure you'd be maimed by morels & eggs from "happy girls" if you tried to sell something that wasn't certified organic, or pasture-fed, or came from the magic land of happy, or whatever.
I understand the appeal of farmers markets to SUV-driving yuppie-types. Maybe because I am a Corolla-driving yuppie-type. Whatever the case, I'm wearing my hippie dress today, so I'll say it: it's nice to get a taste of what human interaction with food should be - buying from local growers & farmers, who grow their vegetables naturally & let their livestock roam in pastures. Crab sellers who don't destructively net the oceans (my technical terms may be a bit jumbled there - all I really know about the ocean & overfishing is that good golly, we sure are messing things up down there, kind of like we are everywhere else!). Buying things at a farmers market is totally destined to make you feel better about your place in the world. The ultimate feel-good move. It makes you feel sustainable. The warm fuzzies certainly come at a good time for yours truly, as I've been voraciously consuming all manner of nature documentaries of late, thanks to the new love of my life, Sir David Attenborough. And while Sir David has the good grace to generally focus on the creatures themselves rather than engage in evil-human finger-pointing, I mean, we all know we're completely fucking this planet up. So if I can say that I shop at a farmers market and I recycle and I vote, well, sheesh, I'm practically saving the world single-handedly, right? (Sorry. This whole paragraph really just references a raging internal debate I've been ignoring for years.)
Anyway. On to the score. I got ramps, sea beans (pictured right), smoked sable & elk sausage, as well as an assortment of drop-dead gorgeous greens. I was, for the record, totally tempted by the aforementioned morels, but sadly their $24/lb price tag put me out of the running. I also came thisclose to buying truffles - Oregon's truffle industry is, how you say, burgeoning - but at the last minute managed to talk myself out of it.
Overall, the market was a bit smaller than I'd thought it would be, but then again, it was largely bereft of craft stands, to the benefit of the food. I think the craft-standers set up at the Saturday Market. Also, there are four total farmers markets in Portland, so although I suspect the Saturday morning one is the largest, perhaps there are vendors who wait for one of the other three. Who knows?
Also, went to the NW Film Center on Sunday - they're screening a series of Kenji Mizoguchi films, of which I've decided to attend only the ones I haven't already seen. Partly due to the $7-a-pop price tag, which also relates to the fact that they're showing tons more stuff I'm dying to see throughout May & June, & partly due to the crappiness of the prints. At least the one I saw last night, Utamaro & His Five Women, was not worthy of its admission price, except for the fact that it's not on video & I'd never see it otherwise.
Having seen it, I wouldn't say I hold the film in such high esteem as I do The Life of Oharu, or Sisters of the Gion, or of course Ugetsu, but nonetheless it was a treat to revisit Mizoguchi's exquisitely (or perhaps rigorously) composed, almost painterly scenes. One of the reasons I adore him is his use of lines in imagery. And I've always been a sucker for the tatami mat perspective (yes, I realize Yasujiro Ozu is credited as the innovator of the tatami shot, but certainly Mizoguchi also utilized it to magnificent effect, particularly in tandem with his famous "one-scene-one-shot" method). It shouldn't be surprising, of course, that the film deals as much with his five women as it does with Utamaro, given that Mizoguchi's films overall are so inextricably involved with the status/state/nature of women.
Utamaro himself is above the mundane vagaries of love. Upon seeing a woman whose skin is so beautiful that Edo's most renowned tattoist refuses to mar it, his request to touch it is done more in the interest of fulfilling beauty than puerile lust. His work is the focus here, his pure desire to paint. This makes sense, given the high esteem in which Mizoguchi held the real Utamaro & the kinship he clearly felt. The other men are subjugated & fall victim (?) to the desires of the women around them, & indeed are jostled back & forth between whichever of the women has managed to drag them off. It's very telling when the geisha Okita forces Shozaburo's hand & flat-out asks him to whom he belongs, her or the courtesan Tagasode. He stammers a bit, ultimately replying "Both of you!" This is of course unacceptable in the women's world, so Okita's subsequent actions are not as jarring as they might otherwise be. One wonders only why the women fancy themselves in love with the weak hedonistic men surrounding them in the first place. I mean, Seinosuke was a big butthead. Yukie could've done so much better. For that matter, so too could Oran, the local girl with whom he runs off.
Also, for the record, there is this totally awesome scene in which Utamaro & his entourage spy on this ritual enacted by the local shogungate. Seems the big guy likes to make all the young women under him congregate, "disrobe" (even kimono-less, they are wearing more clothing than most American fourteen-year-olds) & ocean-dive for fish, while he gets his jollies by watching them do so. Seriously. Naturally, Utamaro's "painter's block" is cured by witnessing this spectacle. Heh.
The other two that the NW Film Center is showing that I've not yet seen are Street of Shame & Sansho the Bailiff. The former is the last film Mizoguchi made, & the latter shares with Ugetsu & The Life of Oharu something of a canonical standing.
I'm choking on the warm fuzzies
