top of page
essays | places
Azerbaijan
unidentified identity
Azerbaijan’s identity remains unidentified. Diverging influences pull it into all directions at the continental crossroads. Diversity, that beautiful mess.
places / stories
Baku / The Formula 1 Formula
I didn’t know they had a Formula 1 track in Baku, much less that the circus was in town. I just happened upon it, as one does who travels prior to research, who builds conceptions and misconceptions and opinions from scratch rather than assembling the premade kits on sale. The race was a grave nuisance to anybody who could count to 1. If you’ve seen one round, you’ve seen all. That’s why they call it Formula 1. It’s a circuit for Chrissake. A circuit that strangled the old town and there was only one perforation that led in. It was a hole in time more so than in space and once you slipped through it, there was a Baku on the other side that was its own yellowed ghost, silent as a soul.
Gobustan / Mud & Man
The more you experience, the more there is to experience. It’s some hexed simple math. Every experience kicks in ten doors. Sometimes it even uses a sledgehammer, or worse, a key. That’s how you cause the finest mayhem when you have the key to something. But as you travel on and beyond, you pay a couple of firsts. You’ll never run out of firsts, rich as you are, but it becomes more and more obvious that you’re skimming. These bubbling mud volcanoes were a first and so were the scrawny petroglyphs. Two firsts for the price of one if you can jam them into the same afternoon. All you need is a flying Lada taxi.
One had to wonder. Was it art or storytelling or note or clue or graffiti or child? And I had to admit: with all my culture and intelligence, and devices, I couldn't have drawn it better myself, au contrairest.
elsewhere
bottom of page