Stunned in Seoul

I know I’ve been away from this beloved blog of mine for too long, but I just had to share what I saw today.

I could not look away from the artful display in the skies. It was so involving that I ran into people, craning my neck to gaze upwards while I tried to navigate the Ssamzie Space walkways. The fluffy clouds off to the left formed charming rosettes that gradually faded away into fine wisps. The shapely, cream-colored clouds in the center anchored the amorphous mass that spread out below. Then there were the hanging wire sharks, sculptures by Kim Chang Hwan. The project, called “swimming in ssamzigil“, really shined today. (Scroll to the bottom of the linked page for the English description!)

Last Friday

In the span of one cigarette break, standing in an unglamorous parking lot, I quietly witnessed a spectacular transformation in the skies. There was no hoopla in this moment. It was easy to miss. I’m glad I didn’t.

(Photo credit: Derrick Chu)

A Rooftop View

Sometimes nothing can beat a rooftop view, especially when it’s at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York. Looking out at the clouds in the fading light over the great expanse of Central Park, you can’t help but feel like a million bucks. The clouds seem much closer than the city buildings. I know that’s not true, but that’s how it feels. On this day, I was more struck by the light than the clouds. Every person on that rooftop was bathed in a friendly glow, engaging in communal appreciation of the striking silhouettes of the skyline and the strange sculpture (Big Bambú by Doug and Mike Starn) nearby. Oh, those summer nights!

Cloudtracks

Life deserves a soundtrack so I make playlists for every occasion. These songs are specifically for skybottling: Cloudtracks.

In One Day…

Let’s be honest. With all the hubbub of modern life, it’s hard to set aside a chunk of time to watch the clouds roll by. But the great thing about skybottling is that it can happen anywhere, anytime.

Recently I bottled the Los Angeles skies in five-minute sessions throughout the course of one day.

This was a welcome sight after a stretch of cloudless, blue days. My camera phone does not do justice to the shining quality of the white clouds. They looked like they were made of light, anchored only by the weight of the surrounding dark grey clouds.

I caught these playful wisps a few hours later. They were in a hurry to move on with the mass on the left leading the one on the right. Leftie seemed to be the sterner of the two, retaining its shape as it floated by. Rightie was a shape-shifter, refusing to stay still even for a moment and eventually dissolving into the blue.

Then with the rains came a real treat–a double rainbow! This is a photo taken by my friend, since once again the limitations of my camera phone resulted in a less-than-satisfying photo. But let me tell you, it was fantastic. Everyone in the city was affected. Maybe not to this degree, but every Angeleno was undoubtedly moved by the double rainbow in the sky that day.

Above the Floating Village

I witnessed this majestic cloudscape in Cambodia on the Tonle Sap Lake. There is a floating village there, which is exactly what it sounds like. People live in houseboats, learn in schoolboats, shop in storeboats, and even worship in churchboats. I thought it was the darndest thing, reflecting the amazing adaptability of humans.

But from the rooftop of a crocodile farmboat, the clouds above looked even more substantial than the floating village below. They are massive and varied– far more interesting than the small and uniform village. The play of sunlight and shadow creates fluffy sculptures that invite multi-sensory exploration. How I would love to feel my way through these clouds!

The Inspiration

Let’s start at the very beginning. When cloudwatching became something more. I read an entry from the diary of John Ruskin (excerpted from Alain de Botton’s The Art of Travel).

November 3rd:
Dawn purple, flushed, delicate. Bank of grey cloud, heavy at six. Then the lighted purple cloud showing through it, open sky of dull yellow above — all grey, and darker scud going across it obliquely, from the south-west — moving fast, yet never stirring from its place, at least melting away. It expands into a sky of brassy flaked light on grey — passes away into grey morning.

That did it. To think that such a beautiful and rich experience could be had just by looking up! A fine example of the saying that the best things in life are free.

Maybe I can never express myself in quite the Ruskinian way. But skybottling restores me like a well-timed sigh of relief. Hopefully this blog will have the same effect.