The Art of Festival-ing

Saturday, March 12, 2011
Two festivals in two days. Today was the Pacifika Festival – from what I understand, it is the largest Pacific Islander festival in the world. Then the Auckland Art Festival is going on for two weeks, and I have been quite excited about it since I got here. It makes me miss my college friends who are all artsy and cool, but no worries. A lot of art is created to make people feel better. Here are some photos from Pacifika.

a small part of the festival (two islands)
fire dancer in “Samoa”
art in “Kiribati”
Pukeko baby with his mummy 🙂
After the festival, I hopped back on the bus to K’Road and explored a bit. I was going to go to White Night, which is the night during the Arts Festival that galleries open from 6pm until late and have special programs that they don’t have any other time of the year. However, I got a bit shy and didn’t really know where to go anyway (places were spread out all across the center of Auckland City). So I got some dinner, wrote some poems and came home. These photos are from my explorations…
Yup. That’s why it’s called K’Road.
there’s a gay community along K’Road, so there were lots of rainbows.
my favourite creeper photographer photo of the day
“Where You Belong”
alien @ a metal art store – corner of Queen St & K Road
there was a lot going on here, so i took a photo to remember
Myers Park – behind K Road, beside Queen St
a copy of Michaelangelo’s “Moses”, brought to NZ in 1971
“thought flags” – an open for anyone project by an nz artist
Ava made this one.
I’m working on a poem on my experiences on K’Road today, but here’s one I wrote between dinner and a coffee shop. Please enjoy, and I’ll leave you with this. Much love, and thanks for reading.
The Patio
above cities
front porch patio
on the side of a wall
hanging on to this
dying building
for dear life
as a setting sun says
goodbye to an already-old day,
shops close, clubs open,
and plastic lights glow
slowly, eventually becoming
the raven darkness
that turns today
into memory
and that man down there
has no where to go
and neither do we –
we, on this island,
no where to go
but tomorrow –
tomorrow he will wake
and roll up that moth-eaten mat
and do the same thing,
and so will we…
what we did yesterday
before the sun
waved his burning hands
and coarsely whispered
with those fading yellow arms
we’ll see again soon –
maybe even tomorrow
when he waves hello again
to us and to the man
who spent the night
with the moon instead
and will do the same thing
when the sun waves goodbye
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