counts infinitely

morethis:

swimminginlakes:

Nighthawks, 1942. 

Edward Hopper.

 ”I brought books on Hopper, and the Arctic, something called ‘The Politics of Lonely’…”

A wonderful time to share my story of the first time I saw Hopper. In 2009, Richard and I were on a trip during my fannish conceit to Duncan Sheik’s tour as we followed him first to Portland (where we stayed with his friends in their spare room - my first trip to Portland as an adult), then stayed in a hostel in Seattle to watch him perform at The Triple Door, an utterly gorgeous dinner-theatre-esque music venue smack downtown. We arrived at 3 in the afternoon, whereupon I checked my email on Richard’s iPhone and received word that I had been accepted into the Master’s of planning program at UBC. We then left the hostel to stroll around Pike Place Market with his friend Adam. The sun went down and we wondered how else to kill the time until the start of the concert. We would have walked right by the Seattle Art Museum, so much like a regular office tower it looks on the outside, if it weren’t for the gift shop window. We donated some cash to go into the museum proper and wandered the exhibits, one of which was of Edward Hopper’s work. (I remember the notations about his portrayal of women, working newly liberated but still nervous held in norms of the bygone era.) Then we went to the show and I saw Duncan Sheik perform for the second time in two days, eating roast duck wraps with my boyfriend, and Holly Brook made me feel silly for being a fan, and I said hi to the bass player. (The concert poster is hanging in our kitchen still.

In two months this will no longer be true.)

(Source: whosecityisthis)