
This cobblestone mosaic path was in the public garden behind our hotel in the Azores. Cats; gardens; art. How lovely to find three things I love joined together in one image.
I remember when the height of latte artistry was a poured rosetta pattern. I have conflicted feelings about social media, but I think photo sharing has had a part in helping the latte art grow. Maybe it’s off-brand; I’m probably supposed to rant about pretentious beverages and performative something or other. But I love that people are lavishing attention on the preparation and consumption of their coffee. Lattes have a sizable environmental footprint; complex worker’s rights impacts; and an often opaque supply chain. We should not be consuming them casually. If latte art causes us to pause and appreciate the results of all that work and effort before we guzzle it down, I think they’re doing us a favor. And even if we just thoughtlessly enjoy the image, I am fascinated by any intentionally ephemeral artform.
Just down the hill from my house, there used to be an old apartment building of the slumlord variety. When I moved into the neighborhood, at least one of the “homeless” Vietnam vets who panhandled near the Fremont Bridge actually lived in that building. Years later it caught fire and was boarded up afterwards. But people continued to live in there. It caught fire at least two more times (this photo is from the third) before the building was torn down. I never found out if anyone was hurt in any of the fires, because none of them ever made the news.
Now there are fancy three-story live-work townhouses in the space. I suppose this is where I should moralize about inequity or homelessness or urban renewal and good design. But I won’t. I’m just sharing a microhistory of a plot of land on a busy corner in Fremont.