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ALM & SOUL SISTA at Poetry Nights (partial clip)

February 24, 2018

Now One Year of Poetry Nights in Ekenas

COLLISION OF SYMBOLS

Up close the milky white surface of the temporary ice skating rink looks calm. Not as intimidating as one unfamiliar with ice skating might think. An Asian girl in blue jean wobbles on its surface. Like so many others she has come to learn. The whiteness of the icy contrasts well with the blue jeans she wears. Her knees buckle as she glides effortlessly. Another girl with a more angular shaped face remains poised close by. One ascertain she is either a friend promising to ”show you” how it's done or hired help. She demonstrates a kind of backwards kick. The Asian girl´s body held tense she casts a side ward glance then smiles looking downward still not ready for a forward propulsion. A man with a camera crouches over his camera bag. The straps made of nylon lay upon the rubberized surface. He too is poised in an odd manner, rising and steadying himself; sure not stray too far away from his valuables. This is still an urban place. Vagrants hunger for opportunities even in Helsinki. The platform upon which he stands has signs. Painted in the universal yellow with a figure falling backwards, it also features lighting bolts of pain. He gets it, ”slippery when wet” enters his brain. Cold hands now outside his gloves, he grapples changing lenses. Then he raises his camera taking aim. The city is already awake. So full of life that his peripheral vision is overactive. Nice distractions. Towards his left, in the distance, garnish green trams pass by heading southward, he wonders, is that southward? 

 

Two-toned buses (blue on top white below) serve in the opposite directions. Is that opposite? He smiles at the pandemonium. For him, all this forms a sense of European(ness). He fondles the telephoto lens, he tastes the remnants of the bitter coffee in his mouth. Perhaps a warm cup of cider would have been better. Perhaps he should have chosen a cafe instead of the coffee served in this makeshift ice skating rink. Capitalism is coming. He aims is camera, placing the Asian girl and the teacher in the foreground. This is Helsinki. Finns drink more coffee than any other peoples of the world. They like it strong and being opinionated about things, they often express those opinions when they perceived something as being ”wrong”. Perhaps ice skating rinks and other pop-up enterprises are not known for coffee, or donuts so the photographer thought. Perhaps pretty girls handling skates, that they are. And capitalism is coming. The photographer, thinking back on that Asian girl , says to himself. it will take many more round brown and less angular faces to people this nation, They are aging and in short supply of willful laborers. Their welfare state dwindles. Time and being isolated, being unsure of their westerness, has rewarded the system till now. But capitalism is coming and more young bodies clad in blue jeans will be needed. Steam powered engines are gone. television going, time for more computerized minds. The air, now filled with electrons, microns and talk of the Guggenheim. Even God marvels. Turning southwestward, Finnish street signs read with long names. Even Nordic people recognize their words, their agglutination language as being long. Learning suffixes can save one's brain. Does ”..katu” at the end of a long word mean ”gatan”? Is not ”gatan” equal to the word, street? He decided to go left down Kaisenienemkatu, then turn on Kaivokatukatau. Knowing how to traverse a city: find a tall building, focus on it. Look for it when lost. The Central railway station offers a this kind of beckon. Its obelisk like clock tower can been seen from two blocks away. As one follows Keskukatu, the obelisk vanishes behind buildings. Looking up can be cause distractions. Gargoyles and Art De co are plentiful. During the winter, the sun, if it comes out at all, sets. fast. The wider streets begin to give way to the more narrower ones. Stepping off smoothed concrete to cobbled uneven streets, one realizes the past is still present in Helsinki. Old buildings now house boutiques and department stores. Large windows up front, then peeping around one can spy, entrances to living quarters more recessed. Privation integrated with commercialism. Such has always been the urban dwelling places of the world. Memories of the photographer’s own childhood come rushing back: The shop owners whose family dwells above his store below. The aroma of Italian sausages, the odor of leather and tan emanating from shoe repair shops. Touring Helsinki he turns toward the Lutheran Cathedral. The streets even more narrow now. Like aisles for worshipers holding reverence, robotic-like one finds his place in the procession. The area was once filled with wooden homes. Across the ocean, many Americans who exist on government subsidies, consider themselves middle-class. They toll away refusing to see themselves as poor. Even working class has lost its luster. No Carl Sandburg to sing about Chicago’s and steel workers. What man power it must have taken to erect Carl Ludvig Engel design. How did Finns not yet independent, not yet Suomi; those who lived in those wooden homes, who watched while construction worshipers worked. How did they feel? Down Yliopistokatu some bright wooden doors of a bookstore are open. The yellowish light coming out forms a halo against the blue sky.

 

 Even from a distance, the intimacy of this place is evident. Someone once cared .The photographer feels out of place. His size twelve shoe does not fit well on the short stone stair. Then too one must turn sideways to enter. No need to say, ”excuse me, please” if you bump into someone. Finns muscle their way into each other. Capitalism will refine that. After a few years of long thankless working hours, few will tolerate getting pushed around. Everyone will be middle class or higher. The bookshelves are full of discounted books. The seller is round with round glasses. He is busy explaining something to a patron. Despite the fact that many Finns speak multiple languages, he is speaking English.. ”...the rent is going up and we can not afford to say her any longer. After 30 years, today is the last day.” The photographer purchases a book. He wonders if it it is safe to ask if the area is to undergo some new developers wet dream. From where he comes, rising costs usually means pushing aside those without the means. “Out with the old, in with the new”. Capitalism is coming. Higher taxes exclusive venues. A new word: gentrification. Careful of the narrow steps, the photographer, descends. Outside the crowds move in every direction. One direction seems more magnetic than others. Crossing Unioninkatu situated in front of the statute of Tzar Alexander II is a merry-go-round. Looking upwards there is a trinity of conflicting symbols. Those smiling faces of carnival, the powerful empty gaze of state and the awe-of the gold crucifix a top the cathedral. Only the cold climate command more attention. Toward the Sentori held behind a roped off section, stands an army of unsold Christmas trees. All smells of of green. Capitalism is coming. Back in the States, Atlanta Georgia created a shoppers paradise when it constructed bridges of highways over its rail tracks. Railroad tracks that had once made Atlanta the feed-line for the confederacy during the Civil War. Atlanta´s pre-industrial power also won the ire of General Sherman. On his march toward the sea, he leveled Atlanta. It took a century to rebuild it. Atlanta power elite reconstructed itself and left its old past Underground. Then after the 1996 Olympics it adopted itself as an international city. Having captured images of crowds of glory enough, the photographer negotiated the cobbled streets. Stumbling in need of coffee, he came upon a new social space: THINK CORNER. Located away from all the festive noise , he roamed further toward Uspenski Cathedral. Cutting through the heart of University of Helsinki, he recalled he once stayed in the Euro Hostel. Odd that an inexpensive place of rest could be found among these decent apartment homes. Europeans still hold to some democratic principles, he thought. All are equal yet capitalism is coming and alternatives spaces can threaten the interests of commercial-minded developers. The photographer remembered how he came upon Hotel Katajanokka during that previous stay at the Euro Hostel.

 

 He laughed with a dizzying insanity back then. The fact that a former jail could be converted into a hotel. What grand imagination. Assuming Finns to be as law abiding as they were, he found it difficult imagining this huge structure as once being a jail. Back in the States was it the city of Brotherly Love (Pittsburgh) where an former jail proved to be a formidable tourist attraction? The photographer recalls using his camera to break the irony and memorialize his time spent there. Making one’s way out of an old jail back on the streets of the sounds of winter shoppers, shoppers whose words are often muffled through scarfs and winter coats; distance and laughter can be discerned from cries in the dark. Nonetheless, capitalism is coming . The twists and turns around a maze of walls shields life today from life before, The mistaken identities of families from students from ghostly inmates. amuses the photographer. A chilly breeze is felt. The harbor must be closer. Sounds of waves began to replace human voices. Like a fish being drawn by familiar places once one has been lost in any city one can find refuge in a feeling. Instinct can dominate when high rises no longer point the way. Now surrounded by red brick, he realized he had once stayed on nearby Katajanokka. There he was again on this once industrial island. Now converted to a residential area, streets are tricky in this part of town. Europeans have perfected building coastal enclaves. Foundations are built high up above water lines. This area was once left to merchant mariners. What was once a harbor for ships later became hautes where more hors d´oeuvers are served. Katajanokka (Skatudden) seen from above bears the resemblance of a diamond. The longest side of this diamond is Kanavaranta. The photographer noticed the continuity of the red bricks walls that began at Hotel Katajanokka, the former jail. This waterfront could have been used in a movie. Was this a location where labor confronted the big bosses? There are ample bars and restaurants along this waterway. Another gust of wind off the icy waters and one justifies the call of the wild. A tastes of the whiskey lies just beyond. The photographer pulls open the door to a bar and takes the high step up into its warm caverns. Once inside, he unwraps his scarf, unzips his jacket and while removing his gloves, orders, one shot of whiskey. “Do you serve Karu on tap”, he asks. “Sandels is better”, the bartender replies. When a Finn gives advice, the photographer thinks, listen. “then Sandels it is”. Spinning around from where he stood, the photographer could surmise he was standing in a newly designed bar. The exposed red brick walls, drop from the ceiling incandescent light fixtures. A retreat for young adults. Gathering his gear, he transported himself to a nearby table . Facing the glass door he could see grey clouds began to gather. One can barely distinguish sun set from cloud cover in Helsinki.You have to be born at this latitude. Finns and Swedes know how long before the days grow longer. Humans don't hibernate. One has to keep moving. Swimming, long walks, getting out. The photographer relished the sweet aroma of his swallow. Holding the glass up to his lens. What nonsense but fun, he sang to himself “...best friend floats in the bottom of a glass”. Zipping up all the compartments of his camera bag the exit was close. Hew makes himself ready. Fortunate the sea was calm, no tug of war required opening the door. Still in rushed the cold as he leaned to. Sounds of water lapping against stone grown cold greeted his ears. Air bit them. Huge are some ships parked over there. Spanning the face of a engine powered ship, half the size of a football field, or so it seems, “Suomi 100” reads a banner. These people know sailing, odd for a thought, he chuckled wondering when the whisky might take hold. Walking this close to the ship's waterline, one realizes how words like behemoth and massive define their hulls. How deep waters must be to accommodate such girth, such weight. 

 

The Baltic Sea has served well the builders of passenger ships Twice a day they go to and from Stockholm. Helsinki has been both a fortress and a vanquished citadel for its 400 years. It is older than Finland's independence. No echos remain of the storms once raised over the Guggenheim. Financial ruin from banker's folly helped sink that idea. Some level heads say, had this come before the fall, it would have been built by now. A delay Capitalist know how to wait. It is is coming. The photographer thinks of home fireworks, christian parades and pecan pie, he turns away and starts an ascent. He must leave this place after the banner comes down. His fleeting feeling for home “..from sea to shining sea he sang*. This southern tip of Helsinki is connected by bridges. Walking along the boardwalk, away from the old customs house, voices and revelry remain unabated. The sun has vanished though its light remains. A deep bluish hue above the ghost going dark waters below. Somewhere lines are forming as restaurant open. Time to change the setting on his camera. Low light, slower shutter..not too much..things get blurry. The whisky high wears off. He calculates. Must hurry. Prying open doors to get a rest stop, the golden glow of Christmas lights, perfumed scented woman hold children. Where is a sanctuary now? The photographer falls in line to get a bite to eat. He choose fast food over fine dining. Despite the lack of nutrition, the service will be fast, he knows Capitalism is coming. 

 

STORY BY KEVIN STEWART POSTED CHRISTMAS DAY 2017