For Don Donaghy
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Don and Maggie were among some of the first people I knew in Boulder. I remember sitting in their yard in those carefree days of yore laughing, drinking, engaging each other with fondness and jokes.
Don had a quality of speech that put him squarely in the world of spontaneous poetics. He spoke in images and wry insights into whatever was going on around him. Sometimes I felt like I was presented with what I came to call The Donaghy Koans. His unusual images forced me to relax my logical mind and fearlessly enter into Don's world of magic insights.
Then there were his photographs that spoke in the same way. He could be walking down a city street but the image he captured invoked another perception, another delicacy of appreciation. Suddenly you see a person walking up a stairway for the first time, a perfectly ordinary moment of life, but something else is happening--a tenderness and the sacred outlook that Don brought to both his photographs and his world.
He worked hard to support his family, three women and a son who meant the world to him. Only later in life, toward the end, did his photographs begin to receive the acclaim they deserve. I remember how proud he was when the New York School book came out. I told him I thought his images were the most sensitive and brilliant in the entire book. He scoffed in that shy way of his.
Then there was the time I tried to cut his hair for him. Strong hair that was determined to go its own way--just like Don who managed even at the end of his life to find escape routes and jokes. His tenderness never left him as he softly touched Maggie's knee but his impatience was also a factor that contributed to the difficult final phase.
But what I remember most is that gangly way he had of coming up to you after a dharma event with a grin and a spontaneous poem..."Beautiful images," I would say to him laughing. Then there would be more of them and I would carefully step into the world he was creating knowing I had entered into Don's magical kingdom of laughter and light.
Susan Edwards
24 July 2008
Boulder Colorado
Don had a quality of speech that put him squarely in the world of spontaneous poetics. He spoke in images and wry insights into whatever was going on around him. Sometimes I felt like I was presented with what I came to call The Donaghy Koans. His unusual images forced me to relax my logical mind and fearlessly enter into Don's world of magic insights.
Then there were his photographs that spoke in the same way. He could be walking down a city street but the image he captured invoked another perception, another delicacy of appreciation. Suddenly you see a person walking up a stairway for the first time, a perfectly ordinary moment of life, but something else is happening--a tenderness and the sacred outlook that Don brought to both his photographs and his world.
He worked hard to support his family, three women and a son who meant the world to him. Only later in life, toward the end, did his photographs begin to receive the acclaim they deserve. I remember how proud he was when the New York School book came out. I told him I thought his images were the most sensitive and brilliant in the entire book. He scoffed in that shy way of his.
Then there was the time I tried to cut his hair for him. Strong hair that was determined to go its own way--just like Don who managed even at the end of his life to find escape routes and jokes. His tenderness never left him as he softly touched Maggie's knee but his impatience was also a factor that contributed to the difficult final phase.
But what I remember most is that gangly way he had of coming up to you after a dharma event with a grin and a spontaneous poem..."Beautiful images," I would say to him laughing. Then there would be more of them and I would carefully step into the world he was creating knowing I had entered into Don's magical kingdom of laughter and light.
Susan Edwards
24 July 2008
Boulder Colorado
posted by Chronicles of CTR at 12:39 AM
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