One had a view of trees out the living room window, but you had to get past the busy street and hydro lines between you and them. Oh, and the kitchen was just sad. One had a view of a parking lot and since it was a half-basement, the grills of various cars were staring into the bedroom. One had the view of another brick building across the alley. Another had a view of the freeway when you stood at the front door, but on a good note, the stark concrete landscape was offset by the various articles of furniture on the sidewalk that people had abandoned. One had a gorgeous park just to the left. That was a definite possibility until we learned that two other people had already applied to make it their home. One lovely apartment had a quiet view of well-manicured lawns and quiet backyards framed by mature trees. Truly wonderful, but the owner was unwilling to rent it to someone he had not met. Yesterday I saw two more. The first was above a Chinese restaurant with a view of fire escapes, brick walls and to top it all off, one of the bedroom had no windows. The second one was in the funky, trendy part of Montreal called the plateau with a ginormous old church just across the street. The rear balcony offered a view of the neighbour lady hanging her laundry not twenty feet away, wondering why I was taking a photo of her wet clothes.
I understand the importance of a view. What we set our eyes on, we become like. And if the things we are always looking at are unlovely and contrary to our value system, they in some way become our focus and we find them seeping into our souls. And so the search for the view continues.THREE: We had our first house guests in the new place. Shane and Alli graced our home for three action packed days of shopping, sleeping and serious eating. We consumed bagels and French toast and apple pie and talked for hours and climbed Mont Royal and had a beer overlooking the Old Port and Shane even tried to overthrow our home group with his radical ideas, but we just agreed with him which takes the wind out of any radical's sails (you know I'm just messin' with ya, Shane). Brave Alli fed the cats one night in my absence despite much hissing (on the cats' part). They were the first friends to see my exhibit and offer their, "Well done, Matte." The house seems a little quiet right now without their Irish accents.
photo one: me looking like a deer caught in the headlights on opening night at the exhibit. Photo credit to Shane.
photo two: some lady's laundry, view from the back balcony of an apartment on St. Urbain.
photo three: Shane and Alli and me from the lookout on Mont Royal. photo credit to some random kind stranger.