The following material is of the San Lorenzo River in Santa Cruz, CA, once the site of Chinatown (or nearby and essential to the life of Chinatown residents).
1) Video and Pics
San Lorenzo River from Cynthia Ling Lee on Vimeo.
password "chinatown"
2) Freewrite: Dec 16, 2016
I sit, ass on concrete, wind chilling skin through clothes, the steady zoom and surge of cars at my back. The riverwalk. A man walks by pulling a bag on wheels, another with arms tucked into his T-shirt to shield against the cold, a bicyclist in high tech gear whooshes by smoothly. The river is brown and overgrown with scrub brush and fallen trees, the water fast-moving from yesterday’s rains. It is not beautiful here. This is no place for bougie hipsters to drink overpriced coffee in the sun. My body alert, unsure whether it is “safe” here where I am perched next to a trashcan chained to a metal pole, yellow heart shaped leaves decomposing in the mud, people with their belongings strapped to bicycles in trash bags. It is hard to imagine those lost bodies, those child bodies, George Ow and Young Lee fishing steelhead trout, catching little frogs and river creatures: the way play looked before capitalism took over. Wooden houses perched rickety on stakes above the water, so precarious, so precious, so easily swept away. In the memory of my imagination, it is always summer, not this damp chill to the bone, concrete seeping cold into my ass, this winter of unremembering.
3) Movements
Borders Resurfacing Santa Cruz from Cynthia Ling Lee on Vimeo.
password "river"
1) Video and Pics
San Lorenzo River from Cynthia Ling Lee on Vimeo.
password "chinatown"
I sit, ass on concrete, wind chilling skin through clothes, the steady zoom and surge of cars at my back. The riverwalk. A man walks by pulling a bag on wheels, another with arms tucked into his T-shirt to shield against the cold, a bicyclist in high tech gear whooshes by smoothly. The river is brown and overgrown with scrub brush and fallen trees, the water fast-moving from yesterday’s rains. It is not beautiful here. This is no place for bougie hipsters to drink overpriced coffee in the sun. My body alert, unsure whether it is “safe” here where I am perched next to a trashcan chained to a metal pole, yellow heart shaped leaves decomposing in the mud, people with their belongings strapped to bicycles in trash bags. It is hard to imagine those lost bodies, those child bodies, George Ow and Young Lee fishing steelhead trout, catching little frogs and river creatures: the way play looked before capitalism took over. Wooden houses perched rickety on stakes above the water, so precarious, so precious, so easily swept away. In the memory of my imagination, it is always summer, not this damp chill to the bone, concrete seeping cold into my ass, this winter of unremembering.
3) Movements
Borders Resurfacing Santa Cruz from Cynthia Ling Lee on Vimeo.
password "river"
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