The Bus

I sat around in the bus station for a while but the people depressed me so I took my suitcase and went out in the rain and began walking.
—-Charles Bukowski, Factotum

Downtown Dallas at Night, (Click to Enlarge)

Downtown Dallas at Night, (Click to Enlarge)

Ride a city bus at night. Late at night. Look around. Really look around. Don’t read your book, don’t check your phone, don’t turn away.

Look at the people. Open your pores and let the pure atmosphere of despair and regret inside where it will knead your soul. Feel the exhaustion of going home from the night shift. Touch the grease spot on the window where people that can’t even find the energy to keep their heads upright fall. Breath in the ghosts of ancient alcohol and unwashed perspiration. Listen to the giggling and proud talk of the night denizens on their blowzy way home from a night of exhausted carousing. Feel their desperate intoxicated love.

Let yourself enter the mysterious world.

Later, maybe a week later, or a month, or years later, late at night – when you are at home on your prescription mattress and breathing that conditioned – carefully purified and modified – air wafting from ductwork overhead. When you have set your book down on the nightstand after a particularly satisfying chapter. When the glowing red digits indicate you have a good, restful, eight hours before you start mashing the snooze button. When the large, high definition, flat-screen television that you carefully positioned so that you can see it from your bed is showing the double-plays, strikeouts, and home runs from all over the country. When you begin to nod off and feel the dreams welling up….

the people on the late night buses are still there. You are home and so are they. They are still there. They are always there.

Blood Red Streaks

’twas in another lifetime, one of toil and blood
When blackness was a virtue and the road was full of mud
I came in from the wilderness, a creature void of form.
Come in, she said,
I’ll give you shelter from the storm.
—–Bob Dylan, Shelter From the Storm

Time Exposure, Night, Downtown Dallas, Ross and Olive

Time Exposure, Night, Downtown Dallas, Ross and Olive (click to enlarge)

Crankcase oil drippings leave grease spots on the tarmac. The Texas summer profligate heat splits the pavement like an overripe tomato. But it’s night now and the humidity hums and settles over the earth. The browning grass still has a little green to give up.

Time smears the taillights into blood read streaks – claret smears – ephemeral neon tubes projected onto the light detector. Effects you can’t see with your eyes appear in the little screen.

And in the other lane, headlights leave a blazing aurora. Brilliant luminous lines.

These are always there – but you don’t ever notice them – hidden by time, too busy keeping things from running into each other.

“Space and time are the framework within which the mind is constrained to construct its experience of reality.”
― Immanuel Kant

The Cut

“Your red dress,’ she said, and laughed.

But I looked at the dress on the floor and it was as if the fire had spread across the room. It was beautiful and it reminded me of something I must do. I will remember I thought. I will remember quite soon now.”
― Jean Rhys, Wide Sargasso Sea

Dallas Skyline at dusk

Dallas Skyline at dusk (click to enlarge)

The time, the light right around sunrise and sunset is called the Golden Hour or the Magic Hour. In the central downtown of a big city, surrounded by the crystal canyons of mirrored glass with the actual sky only visible in an irregular sliver overhead (though reflected between the ranks of colossal ziggurat prisms) the light takes on a surreal artificial quality. For an instant at dawn and dusk the dirt of the evil city disappears, the armies of worker drones melt into the cool pavement, the honking traffic mutes.

I walk along a familiar street, the echoes of decades spent working and commuting ringing back – yet everything is suddenly fresh. The city engineering and architectonics takes the place of geology, but changes faster – compared to eternal living stone, the steel, concrete, and glass is quicksilver. I can feel the silent movement.

And there, reproduced in some mysterious modern process, is a woman in a red dress, twenty stories high, a runway model in a hat. She is an illusion in a tablet – an illusion inside a delusion wrapped in a deception – blown up into a cyclopean beauty.

She is selling something.

But I’m sorry – I’m not buying.

Under the Sculpture

“Those who dream by day are cognizant of many things which escape those who dream only by night.”
― Edgar Allan Poe, Eleonora

In front of the Dallas Museum of Art, night, long exposure

In front of the Dallas Museum of Art, night, long exposure (click to enlarge)

The sculpture is Ave, by Mark di Suvero – the same sculptor that did the Proverb piece not too far away.

“The sky grew darker, painted blue on blue, one stroke at a time, into deeper and deeper shades of night.”
― Haruki Murakami, Dance Dance Dance

They say you are not to touch the works of art. But I always used to see kids using the sloping steel structure – the one painted bright red in the middle of the preternatural green grass sward in front of the museum – as a slide. I don’t see that any more – security must be better.

But still I think of a slide when I see it – I think of the time we used a wax paper cup to lubricate an old, rusty piece of playground equipment down at the end of the block when I was ten years old. It became so smooth and frictionless…

The feeling of rocketing down that perilous slippery slope was intoxicating and frightening. The exhilaration was accelerated by the knowledge that we had figured it out and done it ourselves. We felt we were the only children in the world to understand the secret effects of rubbing wax paper cups on smooth steel.

A father came to fetch his kids and we boasted of how fast it was. Fathers were competitive then and he said it couldn’t be that fast because were were only little kids and we didn’t know what we were talking about.

It told him to try it. With a wry, dismissive grin he hauled his creaking, awkward bulk up the ladder much too small for him (I remember him as being oh so old, though now, of course, he would have been maybe thirty years younger than I am now) and sat bumbling down, unsure suddenly of the whole endeavor, giant feet reaching down the smooth steel – I remember a sudden, last look of doubt, almost panic flickering like a shadow across his expression… but fathers were stubborn then and there could be no turning back, no chickening out in front of his children and all their friends.

So he pushed off.

And you know what happened. I remember he shot off the end of that slide like a watermelon seed squeezed between your thumb and index finger on a hot summer afternoon.

That weekend his oldest kid told me he had to go to the hospital because he broke his coccyx.

Trainspotting

“We start off with high hopes, then we bottle it. We realise that we’re all going to die, without really finding out the big answers. We develop all those long-winded ideas which just interpret the reality of our lives in different ways, without really extending our body of worthwhile knowledge, about the big things, the real things. Basically, we live a short disappointing life; and then we die. We fill up our lives with shite, things like careers and relationships to delude ourselves that it isn’t all totally pointless.”
― Irvine Welsh, Trainspotting

My son, Nick, is home for a few days before he heads back to school. I told him I was going to do, “A stupid Dad thing.” I said I was going to drive down into South Dallas and sit around and wait until I could see an old train engine go by.
“Yes,” he said, “That sounds like a stupid Dad thing.”

When our kids were little, I used to take them down to Fair Park. It’s an underused and unappreciated piece of our city. We would stop off at the Age of Steam museum on the north side of the park. That was a little-known, overcrowded spot where they had an amazing collection of rolling stock – a true history of the American railroads.

Big Boy 4018, in Fair Park, a few years ago.

Big Boy 4018, in Fair Park, a few years ago.

Big Boy 4018, next to a slight lesser engine, in Fair Park, a few years ago.

Big Boy 4018, next to a slightly lesser engine, in Fair Park, a few years ago.

Big Boy 4018, behind the wire in Fair Park

Big Boy 4018, behind the wire in Fair Park

The museum was always neglected by the city and actively discouraged by Fair Park officials. It became more and more threadbare and run down. I was worried that it would fade away. But, eventually, the city of Frisco came through and decided to build a brand-new, spacious Museum of the American Railroad. It seemed to take forever, but the thing finally came together. I can’t wait to visit the place when it opens.

One challenge was to move all the rolling stock from the Fair Park sidings all the way out to Frisco. No mean feat – over the last few years they have been using slack time in the various railways across the Metroplex to move their cars and engines out to their new digs.

Only one piece of equipment remained – but that was a doozy. Union Pacific Big Boy 4018. One of twenty-five “Big Boy” coal-fired steam engines built in the early forties – arguably the largest steam locomotives in the world. 133 feet long, and weighing one and a quarter million pounds (with its tender) – that’s a big hunk of iron to move across a giant modern city.

I wanted to see this.

For months now, the move has been scheduled and canceled – due to technical and scheduling problems. Finally, this Sunday, it looked like the thing was going to go off. I followed on facebook and twitter and made sure it was going to be leaving home – then packed up my bicycle, folding chair, camera, notebook and pen, and some cold water and headed out.

The route was available online and I picked out a spot in South Dallas where the rail line ran along a deserted stretch of grass and trees – that still had a road (Railroad Avenue) right next to it. When I arrived, I realized I must have picked a good spot – there were quite a few folks there, including news reporters, official rail line photographers, railroad dispatchers on their days off, and a good gaggle of serious train fanatics.

Unfortunately, there were some serious delays and we waited for several hours while a number of other trains sped by, but no Big Boy.

While we were waiting some other trains came by. All the folks on this Amtrack were looking out the windows wondering why everyone was standing there with cameras.

While we were waiting some other trains came by. All the folks on this Amtrack were looking out the windows wondering why everyone was standing there with cameras.

Train fans, waiting for Big Boy.

Train fans, waiting for Big Boy.

A freight train stopped on the track, blocking the route, waiting for clearance ahead and we all realized it would be several hours more – so I took off and went to a favorite place in Exposition Plaza – Pizza Lounge – for a slice, an IPA, and watch the Rangers get beat on the television over the bar. I was able to keep up on twitter – and when it looked like the train was moving again I headed out.

The crowd at Scyene Road, under the DART bridge, waiting.

The crowd at Scyene Road, under the DART bridge, waiting.

This time I stopped at Scyene road, near the DART station. The train would reach that spot first, and there was a good crowd of folks still waiting. It still took about another hour, but it was pretty darn cool – worth the six-hour wait. Several serious railroad fans were saying, “Seeing an engine like this moving on the tracks is a once-in-a-lifetime experience.”

Of course, it wasn’t under its own power. There was talk once of restoring this engine to operating condition, but it would be prohibitively expensive, nobody wants coal burning trains around, and there isn’t much track left that can take this size of machine. It was pulled along by a diesel engine, and was hooked to a long line of tank cars to provide braking and stability.

Three generations. The smoking diesel pulling the steam Big Boy, while the electric DART train zooms by overhead.

Three generations. The smoking diesel pulling the steam Big Boy, while the electric DART train zooms by overhead. (click to enlarge)

Big Boy 4018

Big Boy 4018 (click to enlarge)

The massive drive wheels on Big Boy 4018 (click to enlarge)

The massive drive wheels on Big Boy 4018 (click to enlarge)

Big Boy 4018 (click to enlarge)

Big Boy 4018 (click to enlarge)

Big Boy 4018

Big Boy 4018

I was expecting the size but not the fantastic complexity. The size, number, and beauty of all those parts spinning as the train went by was incredible. Now I understand why the train fans wanted to see it move. When you look at these things in a static museum it’s easy to forget and hard to comprehend that they were built to move, move fast, move long distances, and pull unimaginably heavy loads.

Once it went by I drove back to Railroad Avenue, and as I pulled in, the Big Boy was already passing. I managed to get a shot of it as it went over Bexar Street.

Big Boy 4018 (click to enlarge)

Big Boy 4018 (click to enlarge)

The Union Pacific photographer told me of a spot where I could get a picture of the train with the Dallas skyline in the background, but there was another tall container train on a siding blocking the view. The train still had a long way to go, but I was getting tired and needed some water, so I headed home.

“Choose a life. Choose a job. Choose a career. Choose a family. Choose a fucking big television. Choose washing machines, cars, compact disc players and electrical tin openers… Choose DSY and wondering who the fuck you are on a Sunday morning. Choose sitting on that couch watching mind-numbing, spirit crushing game shows, stucking junk food into your mouth. Choose rotting away in the end of it all, pishing your last in a miserable home, nothing more than an embarrassment to the selfish, fucked up brats you spawned to replace yourself, choose your future. Choose life… But why would I want to do a thing like that?”
― Irvine Welsh, Trainspotting

Ghosts of Pedestrians

On Thursday, I spotted an event that was going on down at Klyde Warren Park at eight in the evening. There was a free concert by Paul Thorn. I checked out his youtube page and thought it might be interesting. It wasn’t really my type of music – but he seemed to be a talented and interesting songwriter.

After work, I was way too tired – but I didn’t want to waste another evening flopping around the house, so I pulled myself together and went down to the train station.

Unfortunately, the music was not to my liking – live, with his full band it was way too country-rock for me. I had hoped it would be more in the vein of acoustic songwriter country folk-rock – but this was full on boot-scooting country pop-rock – probably my least favorite genre of music.

I stuck for awhile, then set off walking. After stopping by the reading area and looking through an art book of odd and disturbing (I liked them) paintings by Balthus (the streetlights are almost bright enough for reading) I cruised by the food trucks (right now, we are especially broke, so I ate leftovers before going downtown) and then turned to walk back to the train station.

I had my camera and, on a whim, did some shots of traffic and people by resting my camera on a concrete pillar or whatnot – and adjusting the f-stop for long exposures.

The results were a happy surprise. I came up with a half-dozen that I liked (I’ll put them up here over time – sorry to subject y’all to my experiments). More importantly, It is a technique that shows some promise. Now, I need to work on some spots and do the shots with a tripod and remote release – to get a bit more flexibility in the shot and sharpness in the background. Maybe I can add some models, some added light, or possibly some stacked shots.

So, despite the music not being to my taste, the evening wasn’t wasted.

Time Exposure, Night, Downtown Dallas, Ross and Pearl

Time Exposure, Night, Downtown Dallas, Ross and Pearl

While I had my camera sitting on a low concrete wall in front of the Chase Tower in Downtown Dallas, a saw a family of three crossing at the light, coming toward me. I pointed the camera toward the street and triggered the shutter into a long exposure as they passed.

The City at Night

Well, I just got into town about an hour ago
Took a look around, see which way the wind blow
Where the little girls in their Hollywood bungalows

Are you a lucky little lady in The City of Light
Or just another lost angel…City of Night
—-LA Woman, The Doors

Time Exposure, Night, Downtown Dallas, Ross and Pearl

Time Exposure, Night, Downtown Dallas, Ross and Pearl

Mountains Majesty

Band Photo

Mountains Majesty

At the Lakewood Brewing Company one year anniversary party at Goodfriend.

Mountains Majesty

Mountains Majesty

Nevermore

As I have been looking around the area at local sculptures I have been running into multiple works by local sculptors. I have already put up entries on two works by Joe BarringtonRoadrunner with Lizard and The Headlines Screamed, Baithouse Disappears. I’ve found two more – one can wait – but tonight I give you 4 Ravens, Nevermore!

Joe Barrington
Throckmorton
4 Ravens, Nevermore!
2000, metal, paint

Frisco, Texas

ravens1

4 Ravens, Nevermore!
Joe Barrington

4 Ravens, Nevermore!

4 Ravens, Nevermore!

ravens3

4 Ravens, Nevermore!
Joe Barrington

ravens4

4 Ravens, Nevermore!
Joe Barrington

4 Ravens, Nevermore!

4 Ravens, Nevermore!

The Raven, read by Christopher Walken

 

The Dallas Police Department Welcomes You to Deep Ellum

One pillar in the Dallas Art Park was painted by a Dallas Police Officer. It’s a good story.

“I know the law-abiding people don’t hate us, but just dealing with the criminal element, we get a lot of hate,” she said. “If I could plant one little seed in someone’s head that the police are the good guys, I would consider myself to be successful in this deal.”
—from the Dallas Morning News

From the Pillar:

This mural was painted by DPD officer Cat Lafitte 8642 as a reminder to citizens and officers alike that we are a community.
Supplies provided by the Dallas Fraternal Order of Police, the Dallas Derby Devils, and all the awesome folks who donated their hard earned money

Pillar in the Dallas Art Park painted by Cat Laffite

Pillar in the Dallas Art Park painted by Cat Laffite

The side of the pillar - Justice Shall Be Served

The side of the pillar – Justice Shall Be Served

The pillar contains some words of wisdom –

What I’ve Learned in 32 Years:

Thank a cop, a nurse, a teacher, a soldier, a firefighter – for working so hard for the benefit of everyone and never getting paid enough.

  • Hug your mama cuz I guarantee you were a turd when you were 2
  • Be yourself cuz those who matter don’t mind and those who mind don’t matter
  • If you’re unhappy with something, change it, if you can’t change it, accept it
  • Use your freakin turn signal, people!
  • Hate corrodes the vessel that carries it
  • If someone hurts you, do what you (legally) can to punish them then secretly thank them for making you a stronger person
  • Never eat yellow snow!
  • Read a book
  • Never fry bacon in the nude
  • Be nice to animals, old people and kids
  • If the shoe doesn’t fit, that aintcho shoe!
  • And most importantly….
What I've Learned in 32 Years

What I’ve Learned in 32 Years

Unfortunately, things did not work out well. The internet remembers everything.

A Dallas police officer who is under investigation after getting into a fight with a Plano hospital worker bragged about the incident on her Facebook page.
“I threw my boot at him, Jerry Springer style, and nailed him in the face,” Senior Cpl. Cat Lafitte wrote this week, several days after police were called to the hospital Feb. 9. “It broke his glasses and cut his face and bruised it up real good!”
—-from The Dallas Morning News

Cat Lafitte, Police Officer Fired for Brawling and Bragging About It, Refused Help, Cops Say