Except as noted, all images copyrighted by and should be attributed to E. Bourland Hawley.
I had become many eons ago a traveling literary gnome, inquisitive about places I had and had not visited,
walking the same paths of peoples from the past, through places once grand and still grand,
photographing images that now show me the places about which I still dream . . .

Saturday, September 29, 2007

Sharon Isbin, Guitarrist


She looked beautiful and she appeared to feel the music deeply. Her notes flowed with life and spirit.

Thursday, September 27, 2007

Gnome Eyes Turkey Again


I look forward to a journey to Turkey next May -- the Black Sea, more precisely, with Karl's group, many miles from where we jaunted last May in Ephesus, pictured above, which provided a "soupcon" of the wonderfulness that is Turkey.

Karl Breezed into Town to Give a Marvelous Lecture


Gnome's travel companion showed slides in Shawnee Theatre. The slides depicted narratives of the various mythological stories told in ancient Greek and Roman periods. He called his paper "Didactic Dining in Pompeii," which seems so reflective of his interests, namely, food and art; yet, the paper explained that the frescoes reminded the people who dined in the room of the moralistic message of the stories. For example, people who engage in unjust behaviour will receive punishment to pay for the transgression. I particularly enjoyed looking at frescoes, though familiar, of the legend of Icarus and Daedelus. And folks in the audience seemed interested in Karl's lecture, for they asked him questions for about a half hour; questions varied from architecture to biology to art. At home, John Phillips waited for us with a great meal of red snapper and veggies, which we subsequently and happily followed with a nice port wine Chef John found for our enjoyment. Karl left about seven o'clock, and Soos left a little afterwards. Mr. Mallory phoned, sounding exhausted, from the airport. "Is it over already?" And I said, "Yes, you can come home now." My comment made him laugh, tiredly. When he returned home I warmed the food Chef John prepared for him. Though Mr. Mallory missed visiting with Karl and Soos, at least he ate VERY well when he returned home.

Thursday, September 20, 2007

Oklahoma is OK!


At the museum of art in downtown Oklahoma City Dale Chihuly exhibits his wondrous work in glass art. The photo above shows part of the ocean hallway. Here and there he includes cheruby angels, and in my photograph I include a human angel who admires his work. Dale Chihuly's exhibit provides a visual and visceral experience to the visitor.


Not far from downtown stands an historic mansion where the community-minded fellow Mr. Oberholser lived during the early part of last century. The windows depicting musicians caught my eye.


Nearby, the Harn Farm, donated by the Harn family to the city, still maintains the buildings used some decades ago. I took a photograph of the inside of the Stoney Brook schoolhouse, which closed in the mid-1950's.


Of all things I saw, the small space between two rooms upstairs in the Oberholser Mansion seemed the most inviting to me: a painting; a bookcase with encyclopedias and a dictionary; and a chair to sit in while I read them.


Later in the day, walking around Bricktown I came upon a sculpture of an apparent African-American pushing a large sphere up two parallel metal rails. I thought it looked beautiful. Did it symbolize Sisyphus and his struggles to reflect the struggles that our black people endure in our predominantly white culture? I do not know, and nor could I discover the name of the artist, which gives me a second reason to re-visit the sculpture sometime in the future.

Friday, September 14, 2007

Gnome at An End

This morning a dove took flight. I felt happy for her, except that she needs to remain in her cage to recover from her head trauma. She surprised me with her nimble and sudden escape; the moment I opened her little cage door, she jumped from her perch and flew under my hand. Second thing I thought: Close all three doors. Third thing: She seems safe under the table, so I cleaned her cage, brought fresh food and water, then proceeded to thinking about action number four: Capture her. So I gently walked toward her, which frightened her, of course, so she jumped up and flapped her wings to move away from me. She stopped at a corner. So I had to then proceed to action number five, but I didn't know how to capture her. I thought of myself as MUCH smarter than this -- plunging into things not having thought them through. Just then, instinct over-powered me; my hands zoomed toward the dove and grasped her gently. I held her by her legs to allow her to flap her wings. She soon calmed down and returned to her cage with nary a flap or chirp.

The crisis of the week began a couple of days ago when BirdManBob found a case of pox in Flight Room A. The birds in there -- several mockingbirds, a few bluejays and some sparrows and doves -- must remain quarantined in the same room for the next couple of weeks.

Thursday, September 13, 2007

Rosemary Rumbly


Rosemary came to visit us today. Her name sounds . . . alliterative. At one point during her speech, she began to sing a song from 1927 -- something about acquiring things for free -- and some in the audience sang along with her. I felt my eyes become teary. I wished I could have remained for the rest of her speech, for she seemed clever and fun to watch. Only my handsome Mr. Mallory could make me leave, especially because of what he wanted to do this evening: Fly in the darkness.

Sunday, September 9, 2007

Monks in Dallas


The Buddhist monks began the construction of a mandala yesterday at the Crow Collection building. The deep and touching chanting lasted about thirty minutes. I swooned a bit by their vocal vibrations and the very thought of the deep faith in their god. During the next week, they will pour millions of colored grains of sand into the design. After they finish the construction, its dismantling will reflect change, impermanence, and its grains distributed in a body of flowing water as blessings for healing and health.


A grandmother explained things to the little girl whose attention, in turn, seemed consumed by the exhibit of another culture. Love the dude in the photograph.


An artist sketched some of the colorful scene.


I felt blessed for everything and for a lovely day in Dallas with my Mr. Mallory. So inspired did he feel that he chanted as we strolled under these trees.


A fellow and his young daughter agreed it was a perfect day to bring out the 1971 Triumph, top down, of course.


Another pretty day in Texas.
For information on the construction of the mandala this week, visit www.crowcollection.org

Let Lovely Turn of Phrase Begin

Give Me a Kiss to Build a Dream On

Listen, will you? I think that . . . literature, poetry, music and love make the world go round . . . while mathematics explains things; I fill my life with them, then go walking in snowy woods.
Let us go then, you and I
like two etherized patients floating
through life, together feeling prufrockian.
DDB Jr. makes my world go 'round; during his absence, Pachelbel fills it up.
One summer I sailed across the Atlantic Ocean, then through the Gulf of Finland to reach Saint Petersburg; I pursued Joseph Brodsky in its alley ways. I dream of making that two summers.
I read “Biking to Electra;” found my way in a Jaguar car, and glanced at the flashing steel grasshoppers at sunset. I’ll follow K.O.P.’s footsteps after he followed N.Scott Momaday’s; find warmth and inspiration on a rainy mountain.
Throw chinese coins for the I Ching.
Save the whales, the spotted owl, the woman in toil.
Cast a fly for trout; my memories of fly fishing under the sunny blue Colorado sky remain; I yearn to build more . . . with more trophy Browns.
Listen for the swan’s calls on the Baltic Sea. Feel KKII's joy, his arms spread wide in Yazilikaya.
Good night, Jimmy Durante, where ever you are.