New West Artists

Are you heading down to enjoy an evening of fireworks as the Hyack Festival gets underway at the Westminster Quay?

Be sure to join NWA and local poets for a special encore presentation reading of works from the Visual Verse art show Friday, May 18 starting at 7pm in The Network Hub.

Bleak House Alley by Janet Kvammen

Bleak House Alley — Janet Kvammen vs Candice James

Having worked with my friend, Candice James, the Poet Laureate of New Westminster before, I believe it was fate that I ended up receiving her haunting poem, “Bleak House Alley” as my pick for Visual Verse: Poetry for the Eyes.

I am so proud to be in the New West Artist’s show and incredibly grateful to be given this opportunity to participate in such an extraordinary exhibit. It is a showcase of talented artists who each in turn bring a poet’s amazing words to life in a wonderful eclectic mix of creative styles and art forms.

“Bleak House Alley” is about a fading Cinderella living on the Downtown Eastside waiting for her Prince that will never come. Candice draws you deep into her realm of words as she writes in her usual descriptive way. She weaves a sad story of a fairy tale gone wrong. It was easy to visualise this dark world. After reading it, I knew at once that I must visit this land — a place I had not ventured to in a long while. I wanted to draw on my own experience but I also needed to take photographs to create a Poetograph.

I saw many signs of renewed hope and revitalisation but at a certain point, on one particular block, about the size of a postage stamp in the urban jungle of Vancouver, I discovered another world. I mean no signs of disrespect but for a brief moment in time I felt as if I was on another planet. I seemed to be the only one who felt odd or out of place, to everyone else it appeared to be just another typical day yet it all felt alien to me. I found it difficult to relate to and had the feeling that I was trespassing in some way. I tried to blend in but my camera seemed to stand out. Even though I made a clear show of aiming high while taking photos of the buildings and signs, one man appeared quite paranoid and verbally threatened me. I must admit it was a little scary. It was quite the experience.

I chose to include my photo of the Balmoral Hotel sign which to me is the iconic representation of the Downtown Eastside. I also used a photo I took of the last remaining building of Woodlands. It was torn down 2 days after I took the picture. I had recently visited the Woodlands memorial as well so it was on my mind. Candice doesn’t actually mention Woodlands in her poem but it was something I wanted to include. As so many of the displaced residents have ended up living on the Downtown Eastside, I felt it was important to do so. If you notice, I have placed the Woodlands photo hovering above it all like one of those bad dreams that will not fade at dawn or a tragic memory however how heartbreaking should never be forgotten. I do not think one could imagine a Bleaker House.

I believe the subject definitely called for black and white photos. I have edged it all with a bruised purplish black border created with torn paper and paint to enhance the bleak effect. In the corner, I have added a bright red heart, tilted on its side with a glass slipper. The heart represents the same hopes and dreams that will all share in common. We all follow different paths due to life circumstances but our hearts all beat the same.

BLEAK HOUSE ALLEY

©2012 Candice James

On the East side of Vancouver
In Bleak House Alley
Peppered with cardboard creatures,
A crude Cinderella,
Drooping wax figurine,
Cracked and creased with age,
Candling the night
Weaves phantom dreams
In the pale twilight.

Breathing in fetid foggy remnants
Of second hand wishes,
She churns them and burns them
Into hot buttered streetlights.
Drinking in the horizon,
Gulping it like wine
On this hot thirsty night
Of no reprisals,
She sways in drunken repose.
Skin, weather beaten
Hangs in pockets of leather
Chafing the edge of night.

She doesn’t remember
When the rain started
But she’s certain
It shows no sign of letting up soon,
Each random drop relentlessly
Pursuing the razor’s edge
Of the one in front of it.

This Cinderella broke her mirror years ago,
Lives in a fantasy world,
Thinks she’s still beautiful.
Her torn mouth twitches,
Groans into a grin,
Yellowed cracked teeth
Semi glinting
In the broken bits of moonlight
Decorating the one shoe she wears.
The other foot bleeding,
Weeping like a blind eye.

She limps along
This highway of tears
Searching for her prince
Knowing full well he will not come.

Busted bicycle wheel dreams,
Wasted chants and wishes,
Unanswered prayers and rituals,
Lost Cinderellas,
Broken bowling pins
Littering the alleyways
On the East side of Vancouver.