Where Quiet Monks Might Walk by Chipka
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Description
It has been nearly a month since my re-visitation of Walter M. Miller Jr’s. novel: A Canticle for Leibowitz. It has been three months since I read any appreciable amount of fiction written in the 21st Century. I tried to get through a short story collection by an apparently “hot” author, but I find it incredibly difficult to get through short stories or novels that ring with as much muscular, poetic grace as their own Cliff’s Notes. It would seem that the use of polished adjectives and spry adverbs is—by 21st Century US-American standards—overwriting. If a story makes you pause and think, or simply savor what was written, it is apparently doing the wrong thing. Writing, as some would-be critics would tell you, must emulate television and film and provide quick edits, car-chases in cancer wards, jump cuts, and a 140 bpm-pulse-pounding soundtrack, and enough brevity to make a telephone number scrawled on the back of a matchbook seem epic by comparison. I suspect this is why I find myself reading older works of fiction, or works of international fiction, translated into English. This, I suppose, is why I found myself both reading and sniffing my way through A Canticle for Leibowitz. The paragraphs in that book are long: some of them even have more than three short sentences in them.
I thought of this as I resized this photo. I found a church that I’d always known was there, but I cannot recall the name of it. I don’t think I ever knew the name of it. Tara and Marilyn and Mark saw it. Tara and Bill saw it. Carin saw it. And, I suppose, one of them can tell you the name. I (being a Chicago native) only know what the place looks like, and I know which way to turn (relative to that church) in order to get to where I need to go. And so, having said that, I found myself at the church in question, peeking into the courtyard as tourists flowed around me like a vast, composite slime mold, making the kinds of slapping noises that you can only get when surrounded by people wearing flip-flops. And so, immersed in the meat-sea of flip-flopping tourists (and a few locals,) I decided to see if I could make my way into the church courtyard. It was open. I made my way in, but before reaching that destination, I found myself in a narrow, quiet, stone corridor.
It was silent.
It was peaceful.
It felt like I’d taken one step out of Chicago and into another place. I knew that I wasn’t in the Abbey of Saint Leibowitz. I thought—for an instant—that I might have been transported to Agara. It’s been a while since I’ve been there, but I know that there are vast, silent cathedrals in that odd, diminutive (often chilly) country. I knew that barefoot monks lived within various churches, tending the ancient books (their pages composed of dried and preserved Catalpa leaves) and keeping generally quiet. There were no barefoot monks near me. I was alone. For a moment. I snapped a photo, giggled at the manner in which a bit of ivy peeked around a column, hefted my shoulder bag, and returned to Chicago.
Now, in looking back at this photo, I’m struck by the mood and the overall flavor of A Canticle for Leibowitz. Something in this shot makes me think of Brother Francis of Utah (He’s not too bright, according to many of his contemporaries, but his faith is—at least—earnest: he's one of my favorite characters in the book.) Something else makes me wonder just how close this photo might be to a snapshot from another world: one somewhere between Agara and the Republic of Texarkansas: a world that can only be described in Miller/Miéville/Melville-length paragraphs. Or maybe not...
As always, thank you for viewing, reading, and commenting, and I hope you’re all having a great week.
Comments (22)
lwperkins
This is lovely--I like the golden silence you captured here!
Faemike55
Very beautiful photo I would love to walk these corridores and hear the quiet echo of my footsteps as I make my way to my room for contemplation
NefariousDrO
You know, it's funny that is what you'd see here. What I see here is something right out of your Namaean stories. I can so easily imagine one of your fascinatingly complex characters stepping out of one of those arches and speaking a poem about the dance of uncertainty and shifting pulses of a neutron star all the while resting one hand on the arm of someone, just out of sight, and with one finger reminding us that the sensuality of two people sharing their space is not much different from the sensuality of hot gasses in a nebula sharing their space with the energetic emissions from an ancient star in its final days. Old and new. Sense and sensuality. Perhaps that's why you appreciate the stories you do, and why we all appreciate the stories you write?
CoreyBlack
Very nicely captured. Love the golden hues and depth of field. I made pictures in there in the summer of 1988, (none of which came out this well),and there is an amazingly calm feel to the place. Bustling Chicago disappears while you're in there. It's almost like you've gone to another planet. Walking back out into the glare and throb of Michigan Avenue was extremely jarring. So much so that I remember it clearly after 24 years. This shot captures perfectly the glimpse of eternity the place seems to offer.
treasureprints
A lovely, peaceful-looking place.:)
Richardphotos
I really like seeing the stone arches.outstanding low light capture
auntietk
What an amazing corridor! Beautiful. Just beautiful. It reminds me of the castle in The Princess Bride where Montoya is chasing the six-fingered man and Andre the Giant has to come break down a door for him. I have no idea where this is, though. It will have to remain a mystery! Great shot, though.
kgb224
Superb capture my friend. God Bless.
tobiasbruckner
Great picture!
clbsmiley
Great capture and lighting. Creates an atmosphere.
durleybeachbum
Such an amusing and engrossing read, Chipka. Your description of the flip flop sounds gave me a shudder of recognition,: so clever! The photo is excellent.
Nathan_Ruby
love the read and image! another good one. thanks!
flavia49
fabulous writing and shot
MrsRatbag
So beautiful, I love corridors like this, I think because they have such a sense of anything-could-happen, and many choices all around. Lovely!
Dreamingbee
it is intersting to see such corridor - the golden tone is great here and it looks like many choices to use ..
helanker
OHHH! This is a beautiful shot CHip. Lovely warm colors and i Love gateways like these.
sandra46
wonderful work
tofi
A really beautiful golden glow, I must say, Chip! Beautifully taken with a keen sense of detail and the capture of mood and atmosphere is rather exquisite! The layers and the depth here seem to make the image sublime.. and I can see why and how you felt you were taken to another place, as you've so beautifully put it. I hear you, when you speak of the "recent" type of writing, and what "Siskel and Ebert" would call a classic per se. Writing is very different now, and even TV shows seem to have what you speak of... the type of "depth" is so different these days and everywhere you look we're faced with gore, violence or some melodramatic presentations/storylines. I began to enjoy different types of literature, particularly when I read the Bronte novel titled "Jane Eyre"... that was a great read! I find that those long paragraphs you speak of require a great deal of patience... and these days its difficult to find that moment to sit down and really delve into something like that... at least for me. I truly do appreciate your sense of style with artwork. Excellent subject that makes me feel very nostalgic and at peace.
praep
I would like to hear them sing there...
ELR
Nice Atmosphere!
mairekas
Cool place and atmosphere!
danapommet
I like the feel of this photo and the silence that it portrays. Nice depth with the low lighting!