While assembling diaries about hospitals and massages in Phitsanulok Thailand, as well as general “field notes“, sorta rounded-up a variety of documentary images of post boxes (both outgoing and incoming), a few payphones, parking ticket dispensers, and other oddities. So, here they are for historical record, with little/no further annotation although the payphone may be included in existing archives.
Note: to be clear, some *may not* be in Phitsanulok (Chiang Mai?) and i may add some more later as i come across, as such, consider this a “Thai bucket” so to speak. Oh snapped with iPhone 4/5 and Lomo Sardine can camera for the most part. Lousy photos, interesting items.
Project: Upon turning 50 years old on August 16, 2020, Dave Olson (me, hello) is posting a photo (or maybe photos) a day / per year – starting with 1970 with intent of chronicling existence through various primary evidence sourced from studio portraits, class photos, ID / passport photos, or occasionally other “casual/group/random” shots when the above don’t exist in my archive (note: not “artificial intelligence,” really me, pulled from shoeboxes, journals, wallets and whatnot – diligently scanned and dated via glasses and haircuts, lightly annotated).
Continuing the story of the Olympia SM9 typewriter (from 2018 at Wonder Hotel) simply to show the difference a year of diligence and intrepidness can bring.
Yup, it truly was the most difficult of times, pulled in directions i didn’t want to go but then… states and provinces crossed, affairs sorted, planes and memories faced, trains and ferries joined / turmoil, bureaucracy, paperwork, disrespect and frustration, all well, just sort of sorted itself out. I mean, I know how but the point is: the time came when i was reunited with this typewriter and all was different from when i left it.
Still the keys get jammed, the ribbon inexplicably requires flipping/rewinding after barely a page of typing but, now smudged with thumbprints from changing said ribbon and supplied with aerogrammes from often lost countries, used envelopes with franked stamps (and sometimes intimate thoughts), and the usual hotel stationery, I made things.
Mostly poems and erstwhile letters, quite literally banged out without regard for perfection, just passion! Rapid transcriptions from scribbled journals, imagined lives of a doppelgänger, and notes from undergrounds.
Then joyfully accessorized with inky stamps and collages of postage stamps which may or may not have anything to do with the poem at hand (actually, they were all very intentionally consciously chosen but hey… that’s for the art to say). Oh, you can find evidence of these sessions in Items: Forgotten cycle vol. 7 Espionage and bits in vol. 6 Circumnavigation.
Now, the burly beast sits in a teakwood closet awaiting another opportunity to resist my indelicate fingers. Reminding me to touch gently with nuance and care.
All this is to say, art saves lives (in some cases anyhow).
A shaky and candid stroll from Ceningan Resort with a buncha cute cabins and huge diving training pool under construction to also under construction Alas Manis (Sweet Jungle) Villa – all on Nusa Ceningan island, Bali, Indonesia.
What follows are public telephones created in a time when phones did not roam freely and in pockets.
To make a call, one would either enter a specially-created booth (or box), or simply stand close by as the receivers were tethered to the phone unit by a short cord, then insert a variety of coins depending on the location called (local, domestic or international) or in some cases, use a purpose-made phone card, or even a credit card (though doing so often exposed one to fraudulent actors).
I make scrapbooks and journals for all sorts of reasons, sometimes for my own creations and writing, sometimes for specific project and in this case, for inspiration or dareisay therapy.
Background: I was having hard go of it in life or whatever and moved into a very small room at a boarding-house-type place. While basic, i quite loved having a place which kept me safe and allowed me rest. Reminded me a sign i saw in Vancouver for the “Wonder Hotel – Rooms for Rent – Clean, Quiet, Free Cable, Fridge, Secure” – all the attributes this Ankangan Guesthouse possessed.
3 very different styles of drummers from 3 countries:
Beginning with a short clip of Ilugin Trio from Russia performing at Ubud Jazz Festival in Bali, then 3 stitched clips from Australia’s Arcing Wires at the same festival, finally a smooth old gent (name i can’t recall) performing with Keizaburo Yano (on vocals) at Piano Bar in Okayama, Japan.
Sure, i mail a lot of cards and letters and dossiers of ephemeral treats, poems and painting. Especially to folks who have inspired me or otherwise lent a hand, and to folks (know and unknown) who seem to need a little spark to help them along their journey.
As part of my semi-obsessive documentation for my memory and amusement, i assemble photos (likely) enthusiastic correspondents send of their received items, along with “still life” photos of postal-related items or post-in-process, and often just scenes of post offices/workers/boxes.
Often times these items are organized chronologically-ish somehow, or maybe to a theme, but some cases (including this instance), neither applies and what follows is simply a batch of odds and ends hanging out for another cycle into the world.
Generally an absence of annotations as the meanings either aren’t meaningful or rather self-evident (that said, maybe some annotations will appear). Carry on, bring your own stamp.