350 …Rubin Hurricane Carter

350 Image-Content-Blog of the Day 2019/02/08 of-by patrick wey https://blog.patrickwey.com/category/image-content-of-the-day
I knew that Rubin Hurricane Carter loved horses by the lyrics in Bob Dylan‘s song entitled
‘Hurricane’, ‘And ride a horse along a trail’. When i went to photograph Rubin i suggested to go out by his horses. I wish i had spend more time that day. I had taken better portraits in my career but i was honoured to get to know Rubin and the opportunity to capture a few moments of his life after he was finally released from 20 years in prison for a crime he didn’t commit. Rubin was a gentle powerful soul and we had a few very intimate conversations which i’ll take to the shadows of the other side. When you’re in the presence of such a man the shallow seems to fade into another level where silence has the last word.
‘Rubin could take a man out with just one punch
But he never did like to talk about it all that much
It’s my work, he’d say, and I do it for pay
And when it’s over I’d just as soon go on my way
Up to some paradise
Where the trout streams flow and the air is nice
…..And ride a horse along a trail…..
But then they took him to the jailhouse
Where they try to turn a man into a mouse’
Full Lyrics – https://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/bobdylan/hurricane.html
YouTube Song and pictures – https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gGMSfiH850o
Image circa early 90’s at his home at the time outside King City north of Toronto


348 … symbolic junk yards hanging around

348 Image-Content-Blog of the Day 2019/02/06 of-by patrick wey https://blog.patrickwey.com/category/image-content-of-the-day
Well now, I been in jail when all my mail showed
That a man can’t give his address out to bad company
And now I stand here lookin’ at your yellow railroad
In the ruins of your balcony
Wond’ring where you are tonight, sweet Marie…………..Bdylan
To understand Dylan you have to twist some concepts around from the winds of symbolic junk yards hanging around in the corners of your mind. They’re in there just behind the veneer, the walls that keep us straight, that keep us from falling inside.
Image circa 80’s – model Georgina, an old friend somewhere down that velvet railroad line.
#bobdylan, #sweetmarie, #deadend

Patrick Wey

256 Image-Content of the Day 2018/11/06

256 Image-Content of the Day 2018/11/06 of-by patrick wey https://blog.patrickwey.com/category/image-content-of-the-day
The woman and i were travelling, moving west thru the northern states in the fall of 2016 listening to the Autobiography ‘Chronicles One’ by Bob Dylan when a man came on the radio telling me directly that My Dylan had won the Noble Prize for Literature….
i wrote this that night in a downtown hotel room off some highway in some Montana cowboy town, disguised as one of the gypsies.

Bob Dylan – Noble Prize for Literature…How does the Gypsy feel about that?
‘the Locusts sang and they were sangin for me’

The last few days i, the Gypsy, scrambled around my nature to find some denial for being lost. I am not lost because i don’t know where it’s at. I am lost because that is what we are and that is where it’s at. I don’t have one spec of truth tangled up inside or some myth hidden up my sleeve to soothe you from you or me. We are all lost whether we want to admit it or not. Anyone can believe they got the answer, got the right perspective on reality, anyone can do that, but we all know all serious endeavours into any discipline whatsoever is a small dot of the true nature of that subject whatever it is and we can feel that, feel it deep in our heart. The truth is, is that thought itself is limited like time and space, as if ‘every distance is not near’ and it is the creator of all the worlds it imagines, all the conclusions, all the beliefs in absolutes, the broken reasons, all the jokes are on us, ‘the Joker said to the Thief’, ‘there must be someway outa here’….and there is a way out, but it’s not here but then again, ’two riders were approaching and the wind began to howl’….well who from hell are those two riders, dualism itself? ‘And they’re breaking down the distance; Between right and wrong’ and ‘sometimes i think there are no words but these to say which are true, but there are no truths outside the gates of eden’.

People say that you can’t live without a belief system, something to believe in, even though you know in your heart it is just a facade to keep you from scaring yourself to suicide, physically or mentally; you feel compelled to feel secure with thoughts wrapped around your skull in complicated systems that prove themselves into truth, but they’re not. So what does one do when you come to the realization that one cannot know anything at all for certain? The tool is flawed, self serving, an illusion full of itself where as all reason stumbles across the heavens on its knees begging for awareness, a law that can never bend, one beyond time, a false ’Time out of Mind’.

Maybe this is freedom, and that the road to freedom is no road at all. I am not playing with words to confuse or avoid the seriousness of the absolute question of all questions. No question can be answered fully, complete, it is as simple as that. Thought itself is not capable of completeness, it is always fragmented, out of the present of the past, memory and we can see that, feel that and we are always that, an entity out of time, all about time, surreal time. Thought itself will always believe in itself, it is perpetual-believing in motion. It is indefinite, shallow, a ‘judge that is badly built and walks on stilts, watch out he don’t fall on you’.

‘But it’s alright Ma, it’s life and life only’. I could go on and on quoting Dylan and write a book on Dylans observations of the world, but ‘I’d forever talk to you and soon my words they would turn into a meaningless ring, for deep in my heart, love, i know there is no help i can bring……’and

‘In a soldier’s stance, I aimed my hand
At the mongrel dogs who teach
Fearing not that I’d become my enemy
In the instant that I preach
My existence led by confusion boats
Mutiny from stern to bow
Ah, but I was so much older then
I’m younger than that now’.

What is disturbing is that the world is awaking to the fact that this world is doomed. The validity of thought with all of our absolute beliefs are doomed, coming to an end, ‘God is Dead’. ‘It’s easy to see without looking too far that not much is really sacred’. Dylan addresses many issues, and at the end of every line it is still this, ‘we sit here stranded tho we all do our best to deny it’.

“So somehow it has been a sad understanding that the world is catching up to the facts that can only lead us to despair”, so the gypsy says. It is so obvious that we all are wanting desperately to know we got it right, but we constantly get rude awakenings to obscure that safe belief and we’re all alone again facing a death that ends the whole world that thought has put together. “Humpty Dumpty is Down and He ain’t gettin Back Up”, the joker says. The universe will continue without us, without thought, without god, without anything of us, “we are the illusion” so the Joker mumbled.

Bob has encouraged us to attempt to be ‘forever young’, and ‘I was so much older then, i’m younger than that now’, but ‘Life is Hard’ and ‘i used to care but times have changed’ and ‘this place don’t make sense to me no more’ so ‘disconnect the cables over turn the tables’ and ‘ the only thing i know how to do is to keep on keeping on’.

No matter how long you go on believing in where-ever thought has taken you, to, changing it, revising it, time comes to an end, ‘Time out of Mind’, you can hang on to it all right up to the last breath but eventually you’ll just have to let the great-mystery take you out and float into the space unknown, unthought about. Life can take you there in peace, to just melt into the silence without anything. “Freedom from the known”, some other gypsy said from the side, presumed this, and thought of that and who was right there ‘caught in the middle with you’, ‘jokers to the right of me, clowns to the left’.

I am glad i suppose that the world is catching up but it is also sad. Not much has changed, “the world is filled with beauty and grieve”, the Caretaker pursued.….”that is as certain as it gets”, but i don’t let these, ‘abstracts threat to noble to neglect’, i just let the ‘River Flow’ and keep walking.

Anyways, i know in your heart Bob that you don’t give a damn about any degree, prize or fortune, and once again for the Gypsy, for the Joker, for the Thief, the Hooligan, the Caretaker and all the identities, ‘the Locusts sang and they were sangin for me’.

and nobody could ever sing ‘Strike another match, go start anew’ with the menace of Dylan himself. ‘for it’s all over now baby blue’.
Image circa the 80’s, enhanced later, literature written autumn 2017


#90 Image-Content of the Day 2018/05/24

#90 Image-Content of the Day 2018/05/24 of-by https://blog.patrickwey.com/category/image-content-of-the-day
There are so many words well placed by this guy
for some people that have ears to hear
and here are but a few from ‘It’s Alright Ma’
on his 77th birthday…..
Wow, you lived a real sureal life Bob
thanks for describing my feelings so well
with every word, ‘like it was written in my soul’

Advertising signs that con you
Into thinking you’re the one
That can do what’s never been done
That can win what’s never been won
Meantime life outside goes on
All around you
You lose yourself, you reappear
You suddenly find you got nothing to fear
Alone you stand with nobody near
When a trembling distant voice, unclear
Startles your sleeping ears to hear
That somebody thinks they really found you
A question in your nerves is lit
Yet you know there is no answer fit to satisfy
Insure you not to quit
To keep it in your mind and not fergit
That it is not he or she or them or it
That you belong to
Although the masters make the rules
For the wise men and the fools
I got nothing, Ma, to live up to…..bDylan

I created this fake poster from one of my photographs;
just for the fun of it………patrickwey

Full version of ‘It’s Alright Ma’…. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mYajHZ4QUVM


#66 Image-Content of the Day 2018/04/30

#66 Image-Content of the Day 2018/04/30 of-by https://blog.patrickwey.com/category/image-content-of-the-day
sometimes you try too hard and your spirit runs out of gas just to find out the whole damn technology has moved into a new terrain and the games change and the way is no longer the way and what you once thought was clear is vague and uncertain and you’ve been misunderstood misrepresented even shunned for a world that doesn’t exist a crowd mad with a predestined emotion floating up above somewhere and where does that leave me down here amidst the nature of things moving in with the process far beyond and out of control of the mind of man and does it all matter here when so few see what there is to see with just another day as glorious and dying and changing as the last…..this must be the beginning, what else could it be!
(an interpretation of my relationship with film photography versus the new world of everyone now a photographer, a journalist, a critic, a politician, advocates for peace, for war, for one belief against another, the inter-net and the likes)…photo circa 90’s i presume and route 66 looks alot like highway 61 (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W1i_Q9NDGJk)…lyrics..(
“Highway 61 Revisited”

Oh God said to Abraham, “Kill me a son”
Abe says, “Man, you must be puttin’ me on”
God say, “No.” Abe say, “What?”
God say, “You can do what you want Abe, but
The next time you see me comin’ you better run”
Well Abe says, “Where you want this killin’ done?”
God says. “Out on Highway 61”

Well Georgia Sam he had a bloody nose
Welfare Department they wouldn’t give him no clothes
He asked poor Howard where can I go
Howard said there’s only one place I know
Sam said tell me quick man I got to run
Ol’ Howard just pointed with his gun
And said that way down on Highway 61

Well Mack the finger said to Louie the King
I got forty red white and blue shoe strings
And a thousand telephones that don’t ring
Do you know where I can get rid of these things
And Louie the King said let me think for a minute son
And he said yes I think it can be easily done
Just take everything down to Highway 61

Now the fifth daughter on the twelfth night
Told the first father that things weren’t right
My complexion she said is much too white
He said come here and step into the light he says hmmm you’re right
Let me tell second mother this has been done
But the second mother was with the seventh son
And they were both out on Highway 61

Now the rowin’ gambler he was very bored
He was tryin’ to create a next world war
He found a promoter who nearly fell off the floor
He said I never engaged in this kind of thing before
But yes I think it can be very easily done
We’ll just put some bleachers out in the sun
And have it on Highway 61