H.O.P. Rabbits

David Iles, Bolivar
H.O.P. Rabbits
2000 Bronze
Frisco, Texas

A couple months ago, on a bicycle ride up to Denton, I found a cool sculpture – a bronze tornado – called November Devil, by David Iles. As I look from sculptures across the Dallas/Fort Worth Metroplex (and beyond) I find different works by the same person. In the sculpture garden in Frisco, I found some little bronze rabbits that Iles had done – not as spectacular as a bronze tornado, but nice nonetheless.

H.O.P. Rabbits, by David Iles

H.O.P. Rabbits, by David Iles

H.O.P. Rabbits, by David Iles

H.O.P. Rabbits, by David Iles

—-The sculpture from Denton:

November Devil, David Iles, Denton, Texas

November Devil, David Iles, Denton, Texas

Coming out of the Circle

Sherry Owens, Dallas
Coming out of the Circle 1999 Steel
Frisco, Texas

Everything the Power of the World does is done in a circle. The sky is round, and I have heard that the earth is round like a ball, and so are all the stars. The wind, in its greatest power whirls. Birds make their nest in circles, for theirs is the same religion as ours. The sun comes forth and goes down again in a circle. The moon does the same and both are round. Even the seasons form a great circle in their changing, and always come back again to where they were. The life of a man is a circle from childhood to childhood, and so it is in everything where power moves. Our tepees were round like the nests of birds, and these were always set in a circle, the nation’s hoop.

—-Black Elk Speaks

circle1

Then I was standing on the highest mountain of them all , and round about beneath me was the whole hoop of the world. And while I stood there I saw more than I can tell and I understood more than I saw; for I was seeing in a sacred manner the shapes of all things in the spirit, and the shape of all shapes as they must live together like one being. And I saw that the sacred hoop of my people was one of many hoops that made one circle, wide as daylight and as starlight, and in the center grew one mighty flowering tree to shelter all the children of one mother and one father. And I saw that it was holy.

—-Black Elk Speaks

circle2

I did not know then how much was ended. When I look back now from this high hill of my old age, I can still see the butchered women and children lying heaped and scattered all along the crooked gulch as plain as when I saw them with eyes still young. And I can see that something else died there in the bloody mud, and was buried in the blizzard. A people’s dream died there. It was a beautiful dream.

And I, to whom so great a vision was given in my youth, — you see me now a pitiful old man who has done nothing, for the nation’s hoop is broken and scattered. There is no center any longer, and the sacred tree is dead.

—- Black Elk Speaks

circle3

To the center of the world you have taken me and showed the goodness and the beauty and the strangeness of the greening earth, the only mother — and there the spirit shapes of things, as they should be, you have shown to me and I have seen. At the center of this sacred hoop, you have said that I should make the tree to bloom.

With tears running, O Great Spirit , Great Spirit, my Grandfather — with running tears I must say now that the tree has never bloomed. A pitiful old man, you see me here, and I have fallen away and have done nothing. Here at the center of the world, where you took me when I was young and taught me; here, old, I stand, and the tree is withered, Grandfather, my Grandfather!

Again, and maybe the last time on this earth, I recall the great vision you sent me. It may be that some little root of the sacred tree still lives. Nourish it then, that it may leaf and bloom and fill with singing birds. Hear me, not for myself, but for my people; I am old. Hear me that they may once more go back into the sacred hoop and find the good red road, the shielding tree!

—-Black Elk Speaks

Reincarnation of Farmer Bradley

T Paul Hernandez, Austin
Reincarnation of Farmer Bradley
1999 Concrete, Steel, Paint

Frisco, Texas

Reincarnation of Farmer Bradley

Reincarnation of Farmer Bradley

Reincarnation of Farmer Bradley

Reincarnation of Farmer Bradley

Reincarnation of Farmer Bradley

Reincarnation of Farmer Bradley

Reincarnation of Farmer Bradley

Reincarnation of Farmer Bradley

Reincarnation of Farmer Bradley

Reincarnation of Farmer Bradley

The Headlines Screamed, Baithouse Disappears

Joe Barrington, American (Texas), The Headlines Screamed, Baithouse Disappears, 2000
Frisco, Texas

If you are curious, it’s Right Here.

Here is Another one by Joe Barrington

“How do men act on a sinking ship? Do they hold each other? Do they pass around the whisky? Do they cry?”
― Sebastian Junger, The Perfect Storm: A True Story of Men Against the Sea

The Headlines Screamed, Baithouse Disappears

The Headlines Screamed, Baithouse Disappears

“He remembered the time he had hooked one of a pair of marlin. The male fish always let the female fish feed first and the hooked fish, the female, made a wild, panic-stricken, despairing fight that soon exhausted her, and all the time the male had stayed with her, crossing the line and circling with her on the surface. He had stayed so close that the old man was afraid he would cut the line with his tail which was sharp as a scythe and almost of that size and shape. When the old man had gaffed her and clubbed her, holding the rapier bill with its sandpaper edge and clubbing her across the top of her head until her colour turned to a colour almost like the backing of mirrors, and then, with the boy’s aid, hoisted her aboard, the male fish had stayed by the side of the boat. Then, while the old man was clearing the lines and preparing the harpoon, the male fish jumped high into the air beside the boat to see where the female was and then went down deep, his lavender wings, that were his pectoral fins, spread wide and all his wide lavender stripes showing. He was beautiful, the old man remembered, and he had stayed.”
― Ernest Hemingway, The Old Man and the Sea

baithouse2

“…as the wind howled on, and the sea leaped, and the ship groaned and dived, and yet steadfastedly shot her red hell further and further into the blackness of the sea and the night, and scornfully champed the white bone in her mouth, and viciously spat round her on all sides; then the rushing Pequod, freighted with savages, and laden with fire, and burning a corpse, and plunging into that blackness of darkness seemed the material counterpart of her monomaniac commander’s soul.”
― Herman Melville, Moby-Dick

baithouse3

“You see? I know where every single book used to be in the library.’ She pointed to the shelf opposite. ‘Over there was Catch-22, which was a hugely popular fishing book and one of a series, I believe.”
― Jasper Fforde, Shades of Grey

baithouse4

“I must be in love with this woman, Sumire realized with a start. No
mistake about it. Ice is cold; roses are red; I’m in love. And this
love is about to carry me off somewhere. This current’s too
overpowering; I don’t have any choice. It may very well be a special
place, some place I’ve never seen before. Danger may be lurking
there, something that may end up wounding me deeply, fatally. I might
end up losing everything. But there’s no turning back. I can only go
with the flow. Even if it means I’ll be burned up, gone forever.”
― Haruki Murakami, Sputnik Sweetheart

baithouse5

“There’s nothing in the sea this fish would fear. Other fish run from bigger things. That’s their instinct. But this fish doesn’t run from anything. He doesn’t fear.”
― Peter Benchley, Jaws

Roadrunner with Lizard

Joe Barrington, Texas, 2000, Roadrunner with Lizard. Frisco, Texas

Dear Warner Brothers,
I am old enough to know what the Beep-Beep is covering up when the Roadrunner gets away from the Coyote.

Roadrunner with Lizard, Joe Barrington, Frisco, Texas

Roadrunner with Lizard, Joe Barrington, Frisco, Texas

Roadrunner with Lizard, Joe Barrington, Frisco, Texas

Roadrunner with Lizard, Joe Barrington, Frisco, Texas

Roadrunner with Lizard, Joe Barrington, Frisco, Texas

Roadrunner with Lizard, Joe Barrington, Frisco, Texas

Oblique Sweep

Pray always for all the learned, the oblique, the delicate. Let them not be quite forgotten at the throne of God when the simple come into their kingdom.
—-Evelyn Waugh

John Brough Miller, Oblique Sweep, Frisco, Texas

sweep1

sweep2

Rider

“What he loved in horses was what he loved in men, the blood and the heat of the blood that ran them.”
—-Cormac McCarthy, All the Pretty Horses

Shawnee Trail Sculpture, Central Park, Frisco Texas, bronze by Anita Pauwels

“But there were two things they agreed upon wholly and that were never spoken and that was that God had put horses on earth to work cattle and that other than cattle there was no wealth proper to a man.”
—-Cormac McCarthy, All the Pretty Horses

Shawnee Trail, by Anita Pauwels, Frisco, Texas

Shawnee Trail, by Anita Pauwels, Frisco, Texas

“He found he was breathing in rhythm with the horse as if some part of the horse were within him breathing and then he descended into some deeper collusion for which he had not even a name.”

“…and in his sleep he dreamt of horses and the horses in his dream moved gravely among the tilted stones like horses come upon an antique site where some ordering of the world had failed and if anything had been written on the stones the weathers had taken it away again and the horses were wary and moved with great circumspection carrying in their blood as they did the recollection of this and other places where horses once had been and would be again. Finally what he saw in his dream was that the order in the horse’s heart was more durable for it was written in a place where no rain could erase it.”

“He thought the world’s heart beat at some terrible cost and that the world’s pain and its beauty moved in a relationship of diverging equity and that in this headlong deficit the blood of multitudes might ultimately be exacted for the vision of a single flower.”

—-Cormac McCarthy, All the Pretty Horses

Gateway

I find myself working towards an art which includes a spiritual dimension. I have become increasingly aware of art as a dialogue between matter and spirit. In recent works, I have emphasized myth, symbol and dream to evoke an atmosphere in which the sculpture and its environment speak to the subconscious to make the observer aware of the dreamlike nature of life, of which we all are part.
—-Hans Van de Bovenkamp

Not too far, not very far at all, from the pile of steel boxes I wrote about yesterday, is the Arapaho DART station with another sculpture. This is a good one, by a famous sculptor, Hans Van de Bovenkamp, that you have never seen.

I’ve seen it, though. Richardson’s Central Trail – a hike-and-bike strip of concrete that runs through the city, parallel to the DART tracks and Highway 75, now being extended to the south – goes right by it. Otherwise, commuters on the bus or train never get more than a glimpse. It is exposed to the traffic going by on Greenville Avenue – but everyone is driving too fast to notice.

I didn’t look too hard and didn’t see a label or plaque. This is a public sculpture, though, so there is information on the internet. The sculpture is called Gateway, and, as I’ve said is by Hans Van de Bovenkamp. It’s painted aluminum (begining to fade a bit – might need a recoat) and is a variation of a theme of Bovenkamp – there is a bigger version in Oklahoma City.

The sculpture "Gateway" at the Arapaho DART station, Richardson, Texas.

The sculpture “Gateway” at the Arapaho DART station, Richardson, Texas.

A DART train pulls in. Arapaho Station, Gateway Sculpture

A DART train pulls in. Arapaho Station, Gateway Sculpture

Gateway, by Hans Van de Bovenkamp

Gateway, by Hans Van de Bovenkamp

Gateway, by Hans Van de Bovenkamp, Richardson, Texas

Gateway, by Hans Van de Bovenkamp, Richardson, Texas

Gateway sculpture and commuter bike

Gateway sculpture and commuter bike

Steel Boxes

One of the nice things about being a fan of sculpture is that you run into it all the time – if you are able to keep moving and your eyes open.

On a bike ride the other day, I pulled over for a minute to look at a sculpture I spotted in an unexpected place. It was off of Arapaho Road, not far from the DART station – in a stretch of very unartistic industrial buildings.

The Richardson Factory that belonged to General Packaging Corporation had a steel sculpture (probably welded of Cor-Ten) in a grassy spot next to the main entrance. You would never spot this from a car – but it’s obvious from the cockpit of a bicycle. I turned in (it was a holiday and the place was closed) and took a good look.

I was not able to find a label or plate, so I don’t know the sculpture’s name or artist. The only thing that turned up on a web search is a sculpture called Strange Romance by a sculptor from Taos named Ted Egri (he passed away a couple of years ago). I’m not sure if this is the sculpture – it doesn’t look like a Strange Romance… and the style is a little different from the rest of Ted Egri’s work.

But, the thing was obviously commissioned for the spot – the factory makes cardboard cartons and wooden boxes – the sculpture was made to commemorate the products.

At any rate – for any reason and by any artist – I liked the thing. I sipped from my water bottle and took a rest before riding on. I tipped my helmet to the folks at General Packaging for spending the money and having the thing built and installed in front of their otherwise nondescript factory. They made my day a little more pleasant… for a few minutes at least.

Sculpture at General Packaging.

Sculpture at General Packaging.

200 East Arapaho Road, Richardson, TX

200 East Arapaho Road, Richardson, TX

Sculpture and Commuter Bike. All Steel.

Sculpture and Commuter Bike. All Steel.

boxes4

Flying Over the City

Graffiti, Deep Ellum, Dallas, Texas

“The Guide says there is an art to flying”, said Ford, “or rather a knack. The knack lies in learning how to throw yourself at the ground and miss.”
― Douglas Adams, Life, the Universe and Everything

flying2

“When we started the show, ‘Dallas’ was known as the city where JFK was assassinated. By the end it was known as JR’s home town.”
—-Larry Hagman

flying1

“But there is so much more to do for the city we love… a Dallas with roads as strong as our businesses, parks as beautiful as our children, a downtown as tall as our imagination.”
—-Laura Miller