a winter’s downtown train overpass, with trees grown in paint by Amber. and a skeletal weed. everyone’s dreaming of spring.
My brother introduced me to the idea of the G.C.E. / Gross Conceptual Error, years ago. No, you are not a bird. Funny thing, the birds won’t go to this feeder now. They are going only to Amber’s, which she relocated to this tree just yesterday
Sunday morning downtown. So empty. But Amber’s art wakes me.
Carhenge in Nebraska, with Amber’s art of Paco the bull slyly coming around a corner.
A while back, Amber and I started an advertising agency based on art, rather than numbers and hard sell. I was a professor of advertising, Amber was a graphic designer and MFA student. We wanted to see if this new concept for advertising would work. It didn’t. No clients. We had set up a Web site to help people know what we were doing. I shot up a number of photographs that Amber manipulated for our main Web pages. We collaborated on every aspect of the work from the start. If given a chance, the agency could have produced some stunning adwork … maybe changed a few minds about what advertising could be like. Maybe be very effective. We will never know.
What kind of bugs are doing this damage to our sunflowers? I’m misleading you. It’s birds. Sparrow-like yellowbellies. They land on the “branch” of the leaf no further out than the leaf head. Any further and the leaf would break away. And they slam their beaks into the leaves at that point to get the small caterpillars there, ripping that small section of the leaf away, leaving holes or enlarging them. That’s why all the damage is up at the top of the leaf, and none below. I watched this. Never seen anything like it. Please, don’t ever call me Natureboy.
sometimes, they forget the blanket to tuck you in with. you look around … tucson remains 650 miles Southwest.
tucson. east, again. the Mission San Xavier del Bac. church on the left. wilderness on the right. in the center at the top of the hill …
Tucson. No, you’re somewhere else this very early morning. The sun scratches at your eyes through your closed lids, and you lift your stunned sleep-grogged head from the steering wheel and discover you’re outside Ira’s Bar in Nara Visa, New Mexico. Fear and disorientation take hold because you don’t remember getting here. You live 650 miles away. Just a ways down the road, relatively speaking, in terms of the vast open spaces of the great Southwest. Distances aren’t so great here. So, take a deep breath, reach over and turn the key, fire up that engine, turn the heater on to wear large holes in the blanket of the cold of dawn clinging to you, and head Southwest for those short 650 miles and stop a little ways down the road, when you reach Tucson, Arizona. It’s going to be okay, there.
Tucson… From there, it’s only about 650 hard miles NE across dry desert and mean hills to Nara Visa, NM (pop. about 112). Nara Visa is only about 100 miles from Tucumcari, NM, which was made famous by Lowell George, founder of Little Feat, in a tune about a hard-driving trucker who’d driven to “Tucson to Tucumcari, Tehachapi to Tonopah,” and was willing … to keep moving if you gave him enough weed, whites, and wine.. Nara Visa missed being in that song and becoming famous by being right next to Tucumcari,(you know … Tucson to Tucumcari and Nara Visa, Tehachipi to Tonopah) which it wasn’t “right by” by 100 miles. Just missed all that fame by a couple inches on a map, like most of us. This shot is of the SW wall of Ira’s Bar in the center of Nara Visa. Ira’s Bar is closed. Sadness. We will never be able to gather there and hoist a few. It would be so cool if we all did. We’d number more than the people of the town. We’d be our own mobile township.
Amber, my wife, saw this guy in a tree, about 20 feet from our deck out back … beautiful. pale yellow and black. as large as the length of your hand. I took a quick look at the camera setting, and he was gone.
tucson, east. or new mexico. it’s happening there, too.
outside tucson. things happen there.
tucson. things happen there.
art doesn’t always have to be artful. sometimes, just bringing something pretty to the soul is enough.
imagine … you’re being all woodsie, walking the trail and thinking environmental-like, and smiling at the glory of nature that surrounds you, and then this drops on your head and begins munching.
I posted this picture earlier this year on July 27. I ran into it again today, and my response to it was quite different. Previously, I had titled it, “Middle Age.” I was trying to make sense of the image, make it say something. This time, I found myself reflecting on who I am and my physical health (not great right now). Two different ways of seeing the same thing. From the same person. Nothing remains the same, I guess. Even meaning.
an interesting take on the traditional “U” shaped motel/apartment court. to the right, four modular additions of trailers, randomly selected apparently. at the back, what appears to be the last of the original brick buildings. to the left, some incomprehensible building used for unknowable things. and dead-center, a large trailer behind the tree. somehow, it works. it reaches uneasily in the mind to being artful.