You cherry-bombed your black-lit bedroom.
—-Cate McGowan, Cherry Bomb
Cherry Bomb, Nic Noblique, 2010, Dallas, Texas
Always nice to have a sculpture and a flash fiction piece share a name.
Read it here:
from TSS Publishing – Excellence in Short Fiction
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“We die a little every day and by degrees we’re reborn into different men, older men in the same clothes, with the same scars.”
― King of Thorns
Birth II, by Arthur Williams, Dallas, Texas
Over the years, I’ve written about the sculpture that used to sit near the Lover’s Lane DART station – 2013, Egg – then 2019, A First Crack Reaching , and finally 2019, Birth II,
I found the sculpture referenced in a book I have on Texas sculpture and discovered it was called Birth II and was by a man named Arthur Williams.
The area is being extensively redone, and the sculpture disappeared – I wrote about that too Earthly and Mechanical Paraphernalia
I figured that was it – all she wrote.
But in the last few days I have been getting comments on my Birth II blog post. The sculptor’s son messaged me to say his father was retired from sculpting and teaching after losing his studio and work in hurricane Katrina, but was still alive and doing well. That was cool
And then I received a message from a representative from the University Crossing Public Improvement District. The sculpture had been donated to the district, and is being restored. “It’s planned to be placed behind The Highland Hotel at the base of the Mockingbird bridge here in Dallas.”
There is a little piece of green space along the bike trail – I hope that is where it is placed.
That is so cool. I hope to be able to go down the the ribbon cutting.
Mockingbird Pedestrian Bridge
“You’ll think this is a bit silly, but I’m a bit–well, I have a thing about birds.”
“What, a phobia?”
“Sort of.”
“Well, that’s the common term for an irrational fear of birds.”
“What do they call a rational fear of birds, then?”
― Anansi Boys
Spirit of Flight (detail), Charles Umlauf, Love Field, Dallas, Texas
Crikey! I’ve lost my mojo!
—-Austin Powers, The Spy Who Shagged Me
Micro Macro Mojo, Sculpture by Ed Carpenter, Richardson, Texas
Let me embrace thee, sour adversity, for wise men say it is the wisest course.
—-William Shakespeare, The Third part of King Henry the Sixth
Grapevine, Texas
“Even the memory of cradling her in my arms is pure euphoria. And all that I ask out of life is that it be constant and unending euphoria.”
―
Back side of bronze, Grapevine, Texas
“It makes me sad, sad inside, to see a warrior without his pride. ”
―
Micro Macro Mojo sculpture (detail), by Ed Carpenter, Greenville & Alma, Richardson, Texas
“She glided away towards the lift, which seemed hardly needed, with its earthly and mechanical paraphernalia, to bear her up to the higher levels.”
― A Dance to the Music of Time: 3rd Movement
Sculpture being installed at the Meadows Building, Dallas, Texas
Dallas is the worst city there is as far as preserving its history, art works, and interesting architecture (such as it is). There has been a struggle over the redevelopment of the uber-cool Meadows Building. They were going to raze a historic wing just to create room to run a driveway through.
There used to be a sculpture between the building and the Lover’s Lane DART station – Birth II by Arthur Williams.
Birth II, Arthur Williams, Dallas, Texas
All of a sudden, during the construction, it disappeared. I seem to be the only person interested in the sculpture – there is no record of where it went that I can find. I certainly hope they didn’t scrap it.
The other day, I rode my bike around the construction site as best as I could trying to see if they simply moved it somewhere obscure. I couldn’t find it – but they were putting in a new giant three part sculpture nearby.
It looked cool, but not anywhere as cool as the old Birth II.
Birth II, by Arthur Williams, Dallas, Texas
“Life, friends, is boring. We must not say so.
After all, the sky flashes, the great sea yearns,
we ourselves flash and yearn”
― The Dream Songs
Hall Arts Plaza, Dallas, Texas
I have never completely recovered from the time when I realized that the cotton in the aspirin bottle was not necessary and you did not have to replace it after you extracted your tablet – a belief that, as a child, I structured my entire world around.
“The inmates made jokes about the chair, the way people always make jokes about things that frighten them but can’t be gotten away from.”
― The Green Mile
Nic Noblique, Chair No. 3, Anita Harris Phelps Park, Dallas, Texas
There is a mathematical formula (I’m sure I’ve mentioned this before) to calculate the number of bicycles you should own.
N = the number of bikes you have
X = the number of bikes you should own
X = N +1
I’m at three right now. One supposed advantage of having three bikes is that if one breaks, you have others that you can ride. This does not work, because of some divine sense of humor, all three will break at the same time.
Last weekend I wanted to ride the train and my bike down to the Design District West of Downtown Dallas for a birthday party for some of my kin at a combination Cidery and Video Game Extravaganza. The tire blew out on my folder the day before and the front wheel on my “road” bike needed truing.
No problem, I’d ride my Commuter/Cargo bike (a converted mountain bike with front and rear racks and fenders) – it weighs a ton, but is comfortable and works well as long as I’m not in a hurry. I took it out and started riding to the train station. I noticed that I was having a bit of trouble pedaling and stopped to take a look. The shift cable housing for the rear derailleur had come apart to pieces and the chain was stuck in high gear.
For a minute I thought about quitting, but really wanted to go for the ride. I have a toolkit that I carry and with a few minutes of work, I had the chain on a more manageable middle gear. I couldn’t shift, but I could move. The route to the Design District was mostly downhill… the only steep uphills I would have would be on the way back. I’d worry about that later.
The commuter tracks in downtown are being replaced, so I was spit out by the train at the east end of the central city. I used Google Maps to find a route through uptown to the American Airlines Center and on under Interstate 35 to the Design District. That’s were I found the nice little unexpected pocket park with the three Nic Noblique sculpture. It was a welcome peaceful spot to rest in the middle of the crazy city.
The trip back was mostly uneventful – without my low gears I did have to walk the bike in two spots – but I have no pride, so that was OK.
When I caught the train (the Blue Line this time) back to Richardson via Garland two women with five kids, including an infant in a stroller, tumbled on and took some seats in front of me. The kids were really hyped up and the women yelled at them constantly. At the Mockingbird station, one of the women suddenly shouted, “This is our stop!”
They herded the kids to the door where the four of them ran out the egress. The two women were maneuvering the stroller around when the door suddenly shut and the train started off. They were still aboard the train and the kids were on the platform. The two women panicked.
“Call the driver, push the red button,” another woman on the train said.
“We need to go back!” they said.
The voice in the metal grill was riddled with static, “This is a train lady, it doesn’t go back.”
I figured I needed to help. “Get off at the next stop, White Rock, and then take the next train back. You’ll be there in twenty minutes. Does your oldest kid have a phone?”
“My battery is dead.”
“Use mine, call him.”
She told the kids to wait on the platform. Then I called the emergency number and asked the police to watch the kids.
“What train do I take back? We’re not from here!” – she was still on the edge of panic.
“Don’t worry,” I said, “There’s only one train on this line – it goes back there.” When we pulled into White Rock another woman made sure they crossed the tracks to catch the train going back the other way. I looked up at the display and one would be there in ten minutes – so I’m sure it was fine.
It was only four miles from the Garland Jupiter station to my house – a lot of spring parties were going on in the yards on that route, I rode through clouds of bar-b-que smoke the whole way. It was nice.
