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My guiding philosophy over the past ten years has been to ‘disappear’ as much as possible. Because I think the work is always strongest when it’s centered in other people’s voices. And that means HONY is at it’s best when I’m the most invisible. As a result, the name ‘Humans of New York’ is ten times more famous than the name ‘Brandon Stanton.’ I prefer it that way. It’s by design.  Even on Patreon, I generally prefer to keep my comments limited to the craft of creating HONY. Because I’ve always wanted the creation to outgrow the creator. I don’t want it to be weighed down by my opinions, or politics, or shortcomings. If I keep myself out of it, hopefully it can become bigger than me. And better than I am.         But we’ve reached a moment when it just seems tone deaf to speak about anything beyond our present circumstances. I haven’t watched the video because I don’t want to watch a man being murdered. Instead I’ve watched some videos of George Floyd when he was alive. I’ve read about his life. And coupled with the descriptions of his death, it’s been enough for me to understand and share in the heartbreak.  I think the power of George Floyd’s life and the reason his death has shaken so many millions, comes from its symbolism. He died with his hands cuffed behind his back. With a white officer’s knee on his neck. His death was the most brutal possible symbol of the oppression felt by so many black Americans at the hands of our justice system, our court system, and our prison system. By all accounts, he was admired and loved by the people who knew him. But in his death, he also became a symbol of injustice. And symbols grow so much bigger, and carry a message so much farther, than any individual is capable of doing. His murder unleashed feelings of powerlessness that can only be understood if you live in a community that doesn’t have the resources to navigate our justice system. Or the power to push back against its abuses. The rest of us can only imagine those feelings. And imagination doesn’t come close to lived experience. So I’ll end with an acknowledgment of the validity of the anger being felt. And a hope that our current upheaval will end with a more informed citizenry, a deeper understanding, and some sort of lasting change. I’d have loved to have interviewed George on the street. From the videos I’ve seen, and the stories I’ve read, I imagine he’d have chosen to tell me about his kids. Or his fiancée. Or his faith. Because he was more than a symbol. He was a person. And I’m sure that he’d have wanted to be remembered for his life much more than his death.

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Colour, texture, shape, flow.

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I knitted, crocheted and sewed this blanket in 1976. It’s had some repairs since then and probably needs a few more, but is still wonderful. I bought the wool in Yorkville, TO, and it was a Newfoundland wool.

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...and the other part of the day at Eastbourne, on the beach, eating lunch, having another walk (well, Chris and Care walked while I rested and shifted through the black rocks and pebbles).

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Petone, Wellington. This is where our mother was born. We spent half of the day walking along the beach, visiting the Petone Settlers Museum, having coffee on Jackson St, walking to the end of Petone Wharf...

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We took a walk to find a place to eat and these are a few things I saw along the way. We ended up at a cosy Ethiopian place, like being in someone’s home. Very good.

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Coming into Wellington and my first room here. It’s a LIBRARY!

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“My kids are going to be shocked when they become adults and learn that I’ve basically been playing a character for their entire lives.  All day long I have to pretend like I care about everything.  I’m a laid back guy.  I could actually care less if they make their beds.  Or if they scratch the walls.  But my character has expectations.  He says what he means and he does what he says.  My character hates video games.  He barely allows them in the house.  And he’ll banish them immediately when rules are broken.  But I actually play Mario Kart all the time when they’re at school.  Last week my character got really upset.  He threatened to throw away candy if the kids didn’t stop wrestling.  When the wrestling continued, he was forced to follow through.  I really thought it was a safe move.  It’d been so long since Halloween.  I was sure there’d be nothing good left, maybe just some chalky wafer things.  But the kid was saving the best stuff for last.  It was brutal.  Full sized candy bars.  There were tears.  I didn’t want to do it, but my character had to keep his word.  Then later I fished them out of the trash and ate them all.”

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Portrait of Dr. Hugo Koller 1918

Egon Schiele

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Something I participated in this year. 

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Trust the Viennese to have a good turnout for an accordion musical presentation in a wool shop. Love it!

Alles eitel Wolle. #wolle #akkordeon #erÖffnung #aumannplatz #grätzl #währing #bio #brandnew #wiedehopfundwolle #latergram #concert #shop #shopping #cafe #zweiteswohnzimmer #wien #vienna #bobo #igers #igersvienna #mycity #urban #twitter (hier: Wiedehopf und Wolle) https://www.instagram.com/p/BpXNHtgAjTP/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=lq5mlb8yi8i4

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“We understand that governments are the warmongers. You’re victims just like us.”

“I’m from Basra.  In the seventies we were the economic capital of Iraq.  It was beautiful once.  The only city with two rivers.  We had one million people but ten million palm trees.  In those days everyone was optimistic.  Our oil reserves were better than the Saudis.  We assumed the oil would be invested, and that our lives would keep getting better.  But our leaders failed us.  It was war after war.  Without all the fighting, things could have really been great.  But the palm trees are gone now.  There’s no potable water.  We have a shortage of electricity.  Healthcare is very poor, and cancer is everywhere because the Americans used radioactive bombs.  Our whole land is contaminated.  The food that comes from the soil is poison.  But please visit, you’ll be welcome.  The people are friendly.  You’ll be met with hospitality.  We understand that governments are the warmongers.  You’re victims just like us.” (Cairo, Egypt)

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I LOVE his father’s super power. (I think it might be mine, too.)

“My superpower is fire. It’s inside my hands but I only use it on bullies. My dad is a superhero too. His power is minding his own business.”

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Our overnight trip to the High Country: The view from our room; approaching Mt Buller, the one with snow on it; The Howqua River; Khanh ahead of me; I don’t know, some interesting brick construction at the Mansfield Information centre.

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One stool cover completed, another (different) one to go.

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Mother Nature is glorious (or not), regardless of our feelings or behaviour.

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There’s always time for a laugh. Especially a public one.