I thought I’d posted this comic when I wrote it a few years back, but I can’t seem to find it on here. Anyway, “Eat, Pray, Smurf” still makes me laugh. See this earlier comic.
I got a pamphlet in the mail about something called the Palm Beach Poetry Festival. An idea came to mind: Cut out one of the “Poetry” words and paste it into the middle of the paper, and then cut out other nouns and think of these as different types of poetry: sand poetry, Tim poetry, guest poetry, Q & A poetry, glance poetry. I don’t know what these types of poetry would be — whether written for an occasion (November 10, 2017 poetry) or for a situation (one-on-one poetry) or written at a place (lake poetry) or written about a place (road poetry) or written about a topic (nut poetry) or to be recited while using the thing (Amex poetry) — but I loved thinking of these things for the first time today.
The Rock River surface as crumpled aluminum foil. 25 Sept. 2016
Ribbons remain lashed to the rails, though Homecoming was a week ago. View of south end of bridge, 25 Sept.
The hobos’ gallery: Under the south end of bridge over Rock River at Byron, 25 Sept. 2016
The cheeriest under-bridge art ever, possibly.
“signed gerald I’m sincere”
Oak leaf bunch, south of bridge, 25 Sept.
My dog and “YOLO!”
Oak leaf, south of bridge. 25 Sept.
Wrapped statue above the Rock River, photo taken 30 June 2015.
Zoomed-in image of 30 June 2015.
Art fans in my county can look at another example of artistic wrapping (see earlier example here) by driving on Route 2 north of Oregon, Ill., to see Lorado Taft’s “The Eternal Indian” statue, commonly referred to as the “Blackhawk Statue.” What looks intriguingly like a green monolith on a green hillside is actually the statue under protective wraps while it undergoes restoration work to repair cracking concrete. The picture below doesn’t give a sense of the statue’s scale, but it does focus on some of the disintegration:
Photo of the 48-foot tall statue from below, taken Sept. 2011.
Well, this isn’t really the work of Christo and Jeanne-Claude (or if it is, they’re keeping pretty quiet about it), but there is a fabric-covered cylinder where my town’s water tower used to be. There was some hissing noise coming from the direction of the tower once the curtain went up — the tower was taking a shower, perhaps?
Also, the fabric itself does present some aesthetic enjoyment as it rippled in the wind and as it was partially highlighted by the sun.
My suspicion is that this fabric was put up merely for practical reasons, but I like to find art wherever I can find it. (See other Ogle County unintentional art here.)
I recently found these drawings, marked August 1980, in the baby book my mom made for me.
It speaks either to my skill, or to my resemblance to my father, or both, but when my wife saw this drawing, she thought at first that it was depicting me.
I couldn’t now tell you why mom’s one eye is bigger and double-circled, and why her nose is so equilateral.
My grandmother Phoebe
Her hair has been this short for most of the time I’ve known my grandmother, but, honestly, her hair has never had a lot of body.
My mom’s aunt (my great-aunt) Betty
OK, I really am not sure what’s going on with the chin-shading. I don’t recall my great-aunt having a beard, so I’m hoping this was just a shadow? Or maybe an oddly high turtleneck?
My great-grandmother Alice
For a six-year-old, I did a decent job of representing the shapes of these faces in a way that somehow does remind me of these actual people.