Love, Yokohama: Damien Pitter

Love, Yokohama is my photographic love letter to the city we have called home for the past three years. The concept is a simple one. Each week I’ll ask a student, colleague or friend to meet me at their favourite place in Yokohama… and I’ll take their photograph. These visual love letters will be posted each Friday.

DAMIEN PITTER
Photographed on Friday, 12 September 2014
at his apartment in Yokohama

Living room

1

3

dee view{Photograph by Damien Pitter}

Home
by Damien Pitter

It took me some time
to know the importance of
a real home overseas.
I moved to my first job
in three suitcases
and
from it in two.
Dorm living in a nicer apartment.
Living I thought of
as just-for-now.

I was never very attached to things.

It was Mexico’s folk art
milagros and calavera catrinas
that enchanted me to keeping
collecting
to creating a space more than temporary
a home worth
visiting like a gallery.

Our home now is present
with art
rugs
ceramics
with colour and texture
and the warmth of imagination.
Each is a mood
a story a
longing
question
song.
Our home is filled with
the places we have been, the
selves we were then
and then.

It is no longer a life that fits in two suitcases.

And yet a thing is still just a thing.

I don’t need these things
but I like them.
They are anchors that make stillness worthwhile,
that carve out small borders
a land of our own
and make it easier
to stay a while longer.

2

Damien Pitter

lambs-wool hair,
brown corduroys
and tevas.

jamaican jerk chicken
meets poutine and guy lafleur
in ottawa
then owen sound.

georgian bay,
the blue,
the big of it,
that’s still his water.

a casual guy
not that interested
in persuading others.

imagine him
in a yellow raincoat
on a wooden deck
on a lake somewhere in ontario
watching stars.
star-filled.

he points at the dock.
“join me.”

i wonder
at the wonder of him
and
sometimes i wonder
“why?”
when people don’t get
the wicked smartness of him
+ all he can do.
that’s a weakness in them.
a sad failure
of observation.

{everyone should feel
this way
about their partner.}

his photographs
amble by
blurry, punch-drunk
on the world.

his writing
revels in gorgeous specificity.
pointillism with words.
a garden party of secrets whispered by a woman with a red parasol.

he is
calm.
kind.
divergent.

already an old wise man
at 20.
now growing backwards.
perhaps
at 80
he’ll ride a motorcycle
punctuate his sentences
with swear words
and lead a revolution.

it’s possible.

 

You can see more photographs of Damien and his home on my Instagram feed here.

Check out Damien’s photography and writing at The Puddlewonder Press.

5 comments

  1. How I can relate to these lines:

    Our home is filled with
    the places we have been, the
    selves we were then
    and then.

    It is no longer a life that fits in two suitcases.

    And yet a thing is still just a thing.

    1. Hello Marina Sofia.

      Thanks for your lovely note.
      Damien wrote the lovely piece entitled Home.
      I am, perhaps, a bit more attached to things than he is…. but I aspire to “a thing is still just a thing.”

      Cheers,
      Monna

  2. Hi Monna,

    I love the lines from Damien’s poem:

    “They are anchors that make stillness worthwhile,
    that carve out small borders
    a land of our own
    and make it easier
    to stay a while longer.”

    I’ve a few tiny anchors myself.

    Thanks for sharing. Beautiful poems, lovely photos.

    Katy

Leave a Reply