The life of the arts, far from being an interruption, a distraction in the life of the nation, is very close to the center of a nation’s purpose – and it is the test of the quality of a nation’s civilization
—-John Fitzgerald Kennedy
Mural on a liquor store, Lamar Street south of downtown, Dallas, Texas.
(click to enlarge)
I saw this from the window of a train travelling south through the city and returned a week later to get a closer look. And a photograph or two.
Trinity River Bottoms
Dallas, Texas
(click to enlarge)
My Xootr Swift folding bicycle leaning against a railroad trestle in the Trinity River Bottoms, Dallas, Texas
There is a contrast between the forlorn forgotten floodplain muddy muddle given a little shade in the brutal Texas heat by a rusty rundown railroad trestle bereft of train, ties laddering the sky… and beyond the levee the glass crystal spires of giant office buildings bustling with city office workers invisibly moving in automated cubicles of air conditioned atmosphere.
This weekend I was spending the day wandering around the city on my bicycle. I started out by riding to the DART station with the intention of getting on the first train and riding it until I felt like getting off.
As can happen on days like that, later in the afternoon I found my self wanting to take a little rest. I was riding through Oak Cliff, a little west and a little south of the Bishop Arts District, and spotted a tiny bit of shade graced by a collection of round concrete picnic tables with benches next to a Christian School.
It looked inviting – to sit, polish off a water bottle and listen to some music on headphones. So I swerved off the street and rode the sidewalk under the trees.
The only thing that was there was a wine bottle sticking up on one of the tables. I assumed someone had been there before me – probably the night before – and used the spot for a little public intoxication. Not liking litter – I went over to fetch the bottle so I could find a trash can somewhere.
As I approached the bottle I realized I was wrong. It wasn’t a cheap empty. Someone had replaced the label with a handwritten sign that said “Message In A Bottle,” with a lightning bolt and a couple of stars. There was a missive wadded up in the neck of the bottle. It was wet and torn, but I extracted it and carefully unfolded it on the concrete top of the picnic table.
The message was a Xeroxed mysterious crazy rant ending with Shazam! and a crude picture of Andy Kaufman.
The message bottle on the shady picnic table.
Message in a Bottle
Here’s what the message said:
You are Now! Yes. Is this real? This moment, that you have chosen to co-create? I know not. What I do know is that everything in your life has led you to this exact moment in space and time. Yes your fantastic being of molecular vibrations slipping into the NOW. You, co-creating the awakening of your inner Shazam-Samurai! You, catapulting your nitro-burnin’, fuel-injected, Hootenany, Howlin’ Wolf, Love dance into the future of NOW! Yes! Yes! Yes!
Shazam!
Now, what was so odd about all this is that I had seen that exact same message before. I had photographed it and written a blog entry. Over a year ago, I came across another exact copy of this glued to a boarded-up window in Deep Ellum. I wrote about it here: Text on the Streets.
Stuck on a plywood-covered window. Deep Ellum, Dallas, Texas
So there is someone that for at least over a year has been going around Dallas putting out these little nutjob manifestos. I found two about six miles apart. I did a search on the text and found nothing (other than my own blog entry).
I carefully folded and rolled the worn paper and stuck it back in the bottle. Now I want to keep my eyes open – see if I find it again.
“What wouldn’t I give now for a never-changing map of the ever-constant ineffable? To possess, as it were, an atlas of clouds.”
― David Mitchell, Cloud Atlas
After riding around the city I sat on the platform at the Union Station DART train stop, waiting for the Red train to take me back to Richardson. It was late in the day (I had not brought my lights and had to get home before dark) and the sun was low in the sky. A late afternoon thunderstorm began to explode upward, the rising hot air spreading skyward, fanning out in a semi-circle that covered the sun. Still, the light filtered through, glowing like a fireball over the reflective ridge of the Hyatt Regency Hotel.
Rising cloud over the Hyatt, downtown Dallas, Texas
It was a brief image, an ephemeral phenomenon – the water vapor boiling away as I watched. And then my train arrived.
“To make myself understood and to diminish the distance between us, I called out: “I am an evening cloud too.” They stopped still, evidently taking a good look at me. Then they stretched towards me their fine, transparent, rosy wings. That is how evening clouds greet each other. They had recognized me.”
― Rainer Maria Rilke, Stories of God: A New Translation
How can a mural be secret? Isn’t public viewing part of the very essence of a mural?
I like to think I know a lot about the various murals painted around Dallas. I see a lot of them when I ride around on my bicycle (there is no better way to see a city), I take photos of them, and put them on my blog. Sometimes I feel that it’s cheating – a cheap way to get an entry up – but if you decide to post something every day, it’s necessary to find something to post when you are too tired, busy, or beat down to work on something more substantial or entertaining.
Richard, a friend of mine, spoke of a “secret mural” he knew about that I didn’t. I wondered if he was right; if there was a mural that I had never seen. I knew the general area that he was referring to – and it was a swath of space I had traversed many times. I thought that I had covered all wall paintings in that stretch – but I know how wrong I usually am.
My friend organized a ride, sort of a sequel to the Stop and Photograph The Roses ride I helped out with a while back. I had originally had his stops on my ride, but had to cut them out. I have learned that organized rides, especially ones with planned stops, can get too long very easily. I felt bad about cutting these out and was looking forward to his ride.
He promised we would stop at the “secret mural” on the way back.
Unfortunately, it was a bit of a scorcher of a day and I became overheated and dehydrated. I bailed and took the train home. I know that feeling and knew it was time to give up before something bad happened. But I missed the secret mural – which the rest of the group visited.
He put a photo of the mural on his facebook and… he was right, I had never seen this one and had no idea where it was.
But he also put some photos of other riders at the mural site up on facebook, and I began to look at them closely. I identified the Bank of America Plaza tower (the tallest building in Dallas) in the background, and by its orientation was able to determine that the secret mural was on a forty five degree angle from the tower.
That still left a lot of country to cover. However, looking at the shots more closely, I noticed a giant Texas flag that I recognized in the photo. By taking the angle of this flag and triangulating it with the skyscraper I was able to pinpoint the location. Then by using Google Maps Street View and a distinctive pattern of windows on a building down the street…. in five minutes I had it.
The mural even shows up on Google Maps.
I was surprised because this is a road that I have ridden many times and never noticed the mural off to the side, behind a liquor store.
So today I rode down to get some shots to prove I was there. It’s not the nicest of places, so I took my photographs quickly. As I was packing up a homeless alcoholic-looking man said, “Hey, I saw you clear across town.”
“Where was that?”
“Over on Lamar, by the beer store,” he said. He was right, I had been there earlier to look at another mural I had spotted from a train.
“Lamar isn’t across town,” I said, “I came all the way from Richardson.”
“On that thing?” the man said.
My Xootr Swift bicycle next to the Secret Mural, Dallas, Texas
The Secret Mural, Dallas, Texas
Pioneer Plaza
Dallas, Texas
Taken during the DART to Art, Rail & Ride
Bronze Fly at Pioneer Plaza, Dallas, Texas
The giant bronze sculpture of a cattle drive at Pioneer Plaza in Dallas is a very popular tourist attraction. Hordes of snap-happy folks mill around posing while raising their phones to get something to upload. The stationary wave of metal cattle forever guided by three cowboys is an impressive bit of public art – one that simultaniously awes the throng while reinforcing every Dallas Stereotype (cattle, cowboys, size, tackiness, gaudy, cliche) in the book.
When I visit I always climb to the cowboy on the top of the rise (that the herd of Longhorns is plunging from – down and across a draw) to look at something very small on the hidquarters of his horse. There is a bronze horsefly stuck there – a tiny detail donated by the sculptor to the more observant art fan.
I must not be the only one. The patina is worn fron the little fly-shaped lump of metal – giving it a virgin bronze color. The rubbing hands of crowds of tourists keep the horsefly gleaming in the afternoon sun.
The Wyly Theater in the Dallas Arts District
Gecko in a Watering Can
Thank God – The world is saved!!!
Amanda Popken on the Dallas Cycle Style Seersucker Ride
Happy Birthday remains the most profitable song ever. Every year, it is the song that earns the highest royalty rates, sent to Warner/Chappell Music (which makes millions per year from “licensing” the song). However, as we’ve been pointing out for years, the song is almost certainly in the public domain.
A five thousand dollar Dahon folding bike… wow. I don’t feel so bad about the cash I spent on my Xootr.
Stock Xootr Swift – I only added the seat bag and bottle cage
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The basic fold on the Xootr Swift. It basically folds in half – and it only takes a few sconds. Not a tiny package – but small enough to make the bike more practical to transport or store.
I drive a tiny car – a Toyota Matrix. I always liked it because I could fold the rear seats down and get a bike (barely) into the back of the car (never liked exterior bike racks). I ways surprised at how small the Xootr Swift folded down. I was able to fit it easily in the small space behind the rear seat. Now I have a four-passenger car again.
My Xootr Swift bike with picnic supplies loaded in the pannier.
Eggs Florentine at Smoke
The porch and entrance at Smoke
A really useful list of local restaurants… tied to a map. Of course, there are plenty worthwhile that aren’t on here, but I’ve been to about half of them and they are all deserving.
Jimmy’s Italian
Meat Case at Jimmy’s – Italian Sausage and more
Babe’s Chicken Dinner House
The odd fire pit outside at Babe’s Chicken Dinner House in Carrollton, Texas.
Magnolia Hotel (Pegasus) and Joule Hotel (pool)
Dallas, Texas
One place where the magic happens
Trinity River Audubon Center
Dallas, Texas
Trinity River Audubon Center, Dallas, Texas
I’m not a nature photographer – I don’t have the knowledge, patience, or equipment to do well at that. Still, here’s a little bird in the middle of a drying wetland pond on a hot Texas day, looking for a bit of lunch. He looks a little lonely, don’t you think?
I see so many cars parked around a big corporate fast food place – so many queued up at the window, waiting for their flavorless extruded hunk of scientifically engineered food-like substance. So much substance with so little sustenance. Offset printed plastic focus-group tested graphics, tied in with billion-dollar commercial campaigns carefully crafted to make you jump at the sight of their logo like baby birds at a squirming worm.
Meanwhile so many family owned greasy spoons go wanting with their hand-painted cracked stucco signs. The food might not be better, it might even be greasier, but at least it is real.
Trinity River Audubon Center
Dallas, Texas
Wasps at the Trinity River Audubon Center
Are these hornets or wasps? Looking around the internet, they are probably wasps – their narrow heads and bodies might be the clue. I like the word hornet better, though. It sounds that much more dangerous and mean. And these little bastards looked plenty mean.
It was an ungodly hot day – well over the century mark. Everything else was slowed down, resting, waiting on the cool of the evening or for fall – but these guys were buzzing away, working on their home and future family. It was along a trail that ran between a couple of mostly-desiccated ponds. The paper nest was tucked beneath a the low canopy of a feathery row of bushes. I heard them before a saw them.
There is a strange beauty in this cluster of concentrated pain and meanness. The slick thin black bodies, whirring wings, and delicate paper nest with its precise geometry of hexagonal cells.
Bill Chance 