VERMEER ON PIER 39 – by Tim Wintermute

A woman sits at a table next to an open window.  Half of her face is covered with light, the other half in shadow, wind rustles her long auburn hair.  Her expression is pensive as she stares at the screen of her laptop instead of out the window at the Columbia River. She reminds me of the Vermeer painting of a woman writing a letter by a window, ignoring the canal that flowed past her Delft dwelling, only this painting would be titled Woman Writing on a Laptop by a Window.

I am distracted by the animated conversation of two older men at a nearby table. Their words bounce back and forth across the table as they play verbal ping pong. Seated between them is a gray haired woman watching their verbal volleying in silence, ignored by both. Although she’s not part of their game I suspect she knows the score.

I am reminded of another Vermeer painting that depicts two men and a young woman together in a room.  One of the men hovers above the woman, his right hand cupping the hand with which she is holding a wine glass, encouraging her to take a sip.  The other man sits at a table behind them with his back to a window and his head resting on his hand in resignation as he looks away. Meanwhile, the young woman, ignores the hovering man and glass of wine as she stares directly at the painting’s viewer. Smiling, she too knows the score.

The smell of coffee reminds me that I am in Coffee Girl Cafe on Pier 39 in what was until the 1950’s part of the Hanthorn Cannery, the last cannery to close in Astoria, Oregon. The counter where lattes and cappuccinos are dispensed from shiny espresso machines was where cannery workers were served during their coffee breaks.  On the wall facing the counter are black and white photos that include the “coffee girls” dressed in white uniforms with aprons and hats standing beside giant coffee urns. There are also photos of similarly dressed women standing in front of conveyor belts canning tuna and salmon.  Do the young women baristas here in colorful tee shirts feel any bond with the coffee girls in the photos and does the woman working on her laptop see any solidarity with the women canning fish? Is coffee the only connection that spans the century between them?

Suddenly, there is a commotion.  A pigeon has flown in through an open doorway that leads to the outside deck overlooking the Columbia River transforming the Coffee Girl canvas from a Vermeer into a Bruegel. A young girl sitting with her parents at one of the tables screams in delight as two baristas waving dish towels chase the pigeon around the Cafe. Two older men abruptly stop talking when the pigeon alights on their table. They stare at it in silent bewilderment as it pecks at pastry crumbs.  The woman sitting between them laughs and gently shoos the pigeon aloft.

Pursued by the baristas the pigeon soars like an avian Icarus until it reaches the ceiling then dives toward the table with the woman on her laptop. The woman looks up from the laptop, startled, so engrossed in her work that she hadn’t noticed the commotion around her. She watches the pigeon fly past her and out through the open window. The baristas walk back to their positions behind the Coffee Girl counter, the old men resume their vocal volleying and the woman by the window turns her eyes to the laptop’s screen. Vermeer returns.