Lego Display

I don't know when the Indiana State Fair opened a category 

for Lego projects, but they have. Meh.

I thought the back of this mountain village display

was more interesting than the little vignettes.

It could be worse. 

I suppose the man who built this could

be out drinking in titty bars, "tucking bucks"

in the dancers' g-strings, if they're wearing any.

Instead, he's spent his discretionary income on thousands 

and thousands of little blocks and tiny, segmented

plastic people. 

Meh.

"I Can Make It to the Fence in 2.8 Weeks ..."

I love these signs and especially want 

TURTLE XING.

The deer is perched at the wrong angle though,

making it look more like he's lying down on the road

after an unfortunate face-to-face with a vehicle.

Which brings to mind a question -

After a century or so of these encounters,

shouldn't the deer species have started to 

weed out the gene for running willy-nilly into 

the road in favor of the one 

that says "Stop ... and listen?"  

I'd also like to combine the wording

on the Doberman Pinscher sign

with the one for the turtle, to warn

evil-doers they have 2.8 weeks to leave

before she takes a chunk out of their toes. 

Daily Life

While walking home from the grocery, 

I saw this little boy riding his bike in the driveway 

as his dad washed and detailed one 

of his work vehicles.

The little guy told me his dad

was going to get him a dirt bike when

he got a bit bigger.

I like knowing that the local gendarmes
live in the neighborhood. Another man and his family 
live just around the corner, while another two
homes on the other side of the park
are homes to members of the Indianapolis 
Police Department. Not only does it
humanize the men, 
it adds a bit of reassurance
for the other residents. 

Textured Tuesday: School Supplies

The nearby Dollar Store offered these brightly-colored school 

supplies, packets of pens, erasers and markers

in amounts sufficient to keep writing and erasing stuff

for the entire school year.

I fiddled with the color balance a bit, but the 

hues still would keep these items from being lost

in the bottom of one's bookbag or locker.

Starry Night

Illustration borrowed for the occasion
from the blog Sweetpea Path

When I heard the news that Neil Armstrong had died

it took me back to that day, July 20, 1969, when the Eagle

was scheduled to land on the Moon.

The Moon, a place about 238,900 miles away

from anyplace on Earth I might be sitting. Ever.

I'd read an article in a magazine with instructions 

on how to take photos of the landing on the 

TV screen. I bought a roll of Kodak Tri-X film,

put it in my trusty Honeywell H1a 35mm SLR

and sat in the living room in front of 

the black and white television.

It was a warm, quiet evening. 

No one was in the house but me 

as I watched the events unfold in marvelous, 

fuzzy, flickering black and white.

I'd pre-focused the camera and set the f-stop

so I wouldn't have to worry about it, then waited.

Like the rest of the people, I sat and watched the screen

as one foot, then another descended the ladder,

taking pictures as it played out.

"One small step for man,

one giant leap for mankind."

 I watched as transparent images of

astronauts walked, skipped, and seemed to dance

on the Moon's surface. I was so proud of them,

and so happy for the men sitting in Houston

at Mission Control that I cried.

I wanted to do that, I wanted to be there

on the end of a rocket, like a giant

canned ham being launched towards the skies,

but what could NASA do with someone

whose only skills are drawing and maybe

splattering white paint on a dark blue canvas?

Forty years later, I would often sit at night

on the banks of the Muskingum River, listening

to friends chat around the bonfire while I

stared up at the night sky, strewn with the stars

of the Milky Way Galaxy. The beauty of 

those evenings was so palpable, I can still hear

Carl's voice telling a story as the fire's embers

floated up to meet the stars. Sometimes I saw 

a satellite speed across the sky,

another time the space station.

Several years ago, Carl and I visited Mission Control

at the Houston Space Center. We both were

surprised how small it was, at the tiny computer 

screens and the black telephones. I don't think it had

occurred to either one of us until that moment

just how momentous the achievement was because,

compared to electronics we have now,

NASA was able to send men to the Moon

and bring them home with today's electronic equivalent 

of tin cans, string, and aluminum foil hats.

As I contemplated myself on this small speck of sand

where we spun and swooshed our way through

space, I sometimes thought of Neil Armstrong,

when he looked back towards home, towards

Earth, and saw a beautiful blue planet.

When he came back, Armstrong did the coolest thing. 

In a world where he could have eaten out the rest of his life

as "The First Man to Walk on the Moon," he instead

came home, went back to school and became a teacher.

He didn't keep what he knew, like some special

double-double-secret information.

No, he taught other people to become engineers

so they might be able to explore the universe,

to look back and see the Earth as he had done

so many years ago. 

My pictures? They came out just fine, but

were somehow lost, I don't know how.

It almost doesn't matter, because I have those images

etched in my memory forever, along with the bonfires

and the Milky Way.

Finding Her Way

This climbing "rock" was installed several years ago 

on our neighborhood playground. 

It may seem minor, but I think learning to climb 

this rock will help these girls with other, 

larger obstacles later on. And I like the way 

the taller girl is watching over the other,

to help her find her footing.

Somebody Dribbled ...

For blocks and blocks and blocks

a stream of white paint trailed along the street,

marking the path taken by the truck

that made it. A couple blocks farther on.

the straight cuts made by a concrete

saw contrasted with the strokes

of slurry used to seal the asphalt 

pavement a couple seasons earlier.

Nailed It

Sometimes my motto is "Fucked up is good."
Strung at odd angles, the orange tape suited the coloration

 of both the pole and the yellow numbers.

Otherwise, it was all screwed up and out of place,

which is why I liked it.

Dunno Why, I Think They're Sexy

For whatever reason, my brain registers these flowers 

and their pods as erotic.

The Reach of the Spirit

Each year, the concrete pad in front of the 4-H Building 

at the Indiana State Fairgrounds becomes the home

for a sculpture. The past couple years the site has been visited

by very large fiberglass representations of the farm

couple in American Gothic, while last year saw a dancing

couple from a painting by Renoir.

This year welcomed a creation both more modest

in scale and more ambitious in that it is

non-representational (i.e. "modern) art.

From the plaque:

"The Hoosier Spirit is fruitful, strong and resilient. ...

When faced with a challenge, Hoosiers respond much

like the farmer -- we get our hands dirty --

we do the work."

Jamie Dickerson, Sculptor

Made from Indiana hardwood, the exterior of the pieces invites 

the viewer to enter, to explore them as they twist and rise

towards the sky, much as the trees that produced them,

and just as people continue to work towards their goals.

Goin' Home

I went to the Fairgrounds yesterday to pick up my entry 

in this year's fair. The Indiana State Fair ended Sunday night 
after the last bulb on the carnival was turned off.

I walked through the carnival area to visit another area 

of the grounds. It was amazing to see how quickly 

people had cleaned up their stuff, folded their tents, 
and left town. The grounds are already so tidy

you could almost say that the Fair had never been.

 I saw a couple pair of giant fiberglass bears that seemed

as though they were dancing. While they may have

looked as though they were dancing with glee,

I was amazed at how the entire carnival ride had 
been folded into itself to ride on a trailer.

It must be a pretty unique field of engineering 
to make a carousel or a roller-coaster fold 
into a small enough wad to fit onto a truck.

Lighted Edges

That, and the negative space are the reasons

I posted this picture. I guess people in the

Speedway area are getting used to me

because no one said, "Lady,

what the fuck are you looking at?"

Maybe that, or they knew they'd get a whole

chat about how the light shown through

the leaves, overlapped and made interesting shapes.

"And did you see the cool white lines made 

by the light at the lower left? Oh, yeah,

and the cool shape made where 

there's nothing at all?" 

Blah-blah-blah.

Grassy Creek

There has been virtually no rain this summer. 

The creek at the Coke Field has been very low and 

dry in some places. In past years I've seen little fish, turtles

and scared up a few herons. Not this year.

This past week has seen three days of rain, 

but too late for the usual denizens of the little creek.

As I stood on the bridge Friday, I saw dragonflys

as big as Huey helicopters playing out

their mating rituals in the air, but there were

no little fish, no turtles, and no herons.

There was, however, grass in a rocky area that

was sufficiently dry for it to take root.

With the newly fallen rain flowing around it,

it makes a bright, clear picture.

John Constable in Speedway

I don't like drama in my life, but I love to see it in clouds.

I was introduced to the artwork of John Constable

in one of my first college art history classes.

While my preference is for contemporary art, Constable's

land and seascapes stick with me; there are times when 

I will just stop to watch the clouds as they scud

across the sky. Often, when I am at the Coke Field,

I'll stand on the little bridge and imagine it's

a field in the English countryside.

Below is Ploughing Scene in Suffolk, painted in 1814.

But the one below, a seascape study, is my favorite.

Our storms generally come out of the plains

of the Midwest. On occasion, I saw dark clouds

approaching as we drove west from Ohio.

The vast, green farmland of Ohio was as good

as any ocean to see thunderheads sweeping in,

dropping curtains of rain on their approach.

At the Entrance

Greeting fairgoers at the entrance is this concert band organ owned by

Larry Kerns. It is a happy sound, immediately establishing

a pleasant, nostalgic mood to begin one's visit.

As I was looking for more information about

these machines, I found that are enthusiasts who attend

rallies to hear them, one of which is in Gallipolis, Ohio

I found the machine intriguing to watch, it's band master keeping time,

cherubs plucking little harps, attractive goddesses flanking the

bandmaster each playing a horn and or a bell.  

The music also was the last thing I heard as I left

the grounds, leaving me with a pleasant sound as I 

recalled my day and looked forward

to my next visit.

While there are several videos of this organ 

on YouTube, I chose this one because the sound

seems so much better than on the others.

Happy Wandering

The girl above added a realistic feel to the re-enactment of a 

summer meal in a 20th century farm kitchen. She was bored with

the whole proceedings and her little sister was becoming 

irritable. Instead of  reinforcing the younger girl's

bad mood, she reached out to bring her closer, to hug her.

Meanwhile, adults gathered round the summer kitchen table

and just a few feet away at a dining room table, to give

Fair visitors some idea what farm life and meals were like,

say, in the 1940s to 1950s. 

While the scene was a representation, the food was real. 

 Regrettably, I didn't get anything but the smells

of mashed potatoes and gravy. The people in the pictures were

volunteers in the Pioneer Village area of the Indiana

State Fair. Don't go there hungry at lunch time.

Horses With Jobs: Wedding Bells

On my way home from the fair last weekend,

I looked up to see a trio of white horse-drawn carriages,

each being pulled by what looked like horses that

were Clydesdales, or relations thereof.

As it turned out, they were on their way to pick up

a wedding party from the Capitol Building

just across the street. The first carriage, fashioned 

after a Cinderella coach, carried the bride and groom with,

I'm assuming, the maid and matron of honor.

The second and third carried the bridesmaids and

groomsmen, respectively.

Congratulations, Happy Couple!

I hope your lives together bring you joy

and growing love, as big and

beaming as your smiles.

Textured Tuesday: Too Little, Too late

After a summer with temperatures that ran 10 to 20 degrees 

higher than normal and very nearly no significant rainfall, 

the temperatures have broken and and it rained heavily twice

within a four day period.  But its too late for the crops and a lot

of the trees. Much of the midwest has been declared

a drought disaster area. In my neighborhood, many of the trees

have dropped at least some of their leaves, while some of the 

smaller trees have died. 

Horses With Jobs, Part 2

I've been involved in another project lately, 

so haven't taken as many pictures as I would like. 

I did take the time Saturday to participate

in the Indiana State Fair's Plein Air Day.

Not that I'm a "plein air" kind of person --

my temperment isn't suited to that sort of work.

I ended up with a brightly colored depiction of 

a carousel, another version of "horses at work."

The gaily painted steeds on the merry-go-round carry 

children of all ages in never-ending circles with

flashing lights and pulsating music from 

an electronic calliope.

  

I bet that would make even the most

jaded pony turn into a fiberglass hors d'oevre

with a giant gold toothpick stuck

between  its withers.

You rock it, carousel cayuse! 

Horses With Jobs

If you want to guarantee a crowd of adults with children,

drive up with a van full of draft horses to unload.

The Percherons were arriving for their segment of

the Indiana State Fair.

The oohing and ahhing doesn't stop outside,

as adults stand in awe and admiration as the huge,

amiable creatures are put into their stalls.

Their weight averages about one ton and, if they took it 

into their mind, they could get out of their stalls

without too much difficulty.

During the week, the draft horse classes are among 

the most popular, as spectators watch Percherons, Clydesdales,

and Belgians being shown pulling carts and wagons

made of two, four and six-in-hand teams.

Stuck

I have set myself a little mission. I am looking to take

 a nice photo of a John Constable sky. With that in mind, 

I set out for the store this afternoon and, while the clouds played

their part, the setting was all wrong. So JC will wait another day.

Meanwhile, I saw a couple neighborhood men working to

replace a wheel bearing on a car. That is, they were trying to

get the old, very worn part off. When I saw them, they

had already made two trips to the parts dealer, 

with a third in the offing. 

I went on to the store, picked up a few groceries 

and started home, taking a few more pictures on the way.

Passing the car, the two men were getting into another,

embarking on their fourth mission to see

the parts dealer.

Here is the new part, awaiting its turn

on the right front wheel assembly

of a purple sedan.

A Quiet Morning

The morning was gray and humid when I took these 

pictures of the west end of the Central Canal.

Looking west, the White River can be seen

beyond the street light. People were using the quiet time

to take a walk or go for their morning run.

The taped off ladder at the corner of the canal is the

site where swimmers would emerge the next morning,

completing the first leg of a triathlon.

Yep, they would use the Canal for the swimming 

portion of the competition, then transfer to their bicycles

to begin a route that would take them over the bridge to

the White River Promenade and beyond.

The bridge above, which is near the State Office

buildings and Indiana Historical Society,

must have been about the half-way mark of the

swimming competition.