The Art of Festival-ing

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

tonight

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

goodnight

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

tomorrow

when the sun waves goodbye

again.