“God created man and, finding him not sufficiently alone, gave him a companion to make him feel his solitude more keenly”
― Paul Valéry
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Adam, by Emile-Antoine Bourdelle, plus admirer
Cullen Sculpture Garden
Houston, Texas
“It is amazing how complete is the delusion that beauty is goodness.”
― Leo Tolstoy, The Kreutzer Sonata
French Quarter
Halloween
New Orleans, Louisiana
I love the art deco murals and sculptures in Fair Park. My favorite may be the Spirit of the Centennial sculpture in front of the Woman’s Building.
I have seen it in the daylight many times and took some photos of it. But I had never had a good look at it at night. It glows with a preternatural beauty – worth a gander, for sure.
Spirit of the Centennial, Woman’s Building, Fair Park, Dallas, Texas
Spirit of the Centennial, Woman’s Building, Fair Park, Dallas, Texas
I had started calling her Lucy shortly after we met; I didn’t like the name Lucille. That’s how our television show was called I Love Lucy, not Lucille.
—-Desi Arnaz
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Well, I’m your Vitavigavegivat Girl. Are you tired, run down, listless? Do you pop out at parties? Are you unpoopular?
[pause]
Well, are you? The answer to all your problems is in this little ol’ bottle, Vitameatavegamin.
[Checks the bottle label]
That’s it. Vitameatavegamin contains vitamins, meat, megetables and vinerals. So why don’t you join the thousands of happy peppy people and get a great big bottle of Vitaveatyvemeanyminimoe. I’ll tell you what you have to do. You have to take a whole tablespoonful after every meal. It’s so tasty too. It’s just like candy. So everybody get a bottle of… [pointing at the bottle] This stuff.
There are colors not found in nature.
And I don’t necessarily mean that in a bad way.
Car Show, Deep Ellum, Dallas, Texas
Style changes, style stays the same, style comes full circle.
Car show, Deep Ellum, Dallas, Texas
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Deep Ellum, Dallas, Texas
There is the umbrella. The umbrella lives under the passenger bucket seat and you pull it out at dawn in the spitting rain and roaring cold wind. Your only hope is that it opens and stays more or less together while you trudge your way across the vast tarmac parking lot at your work. If it does its job, you can arrive breathless and plop down in your soulless cubicle with a few square inches of almost dry clothing.
A parasol, on the other hand, is a completely different thing. Darts of flimsy tissue paper and delicate bamboo ribs – it was not made to stand the power of a howling gale. The gentle rays of the sun are all it can deal with – and barely that. It’s a translucent bumbershoot, a portable shade canopy, standing against the day. Its name tells you that it’s for (para) the sun (sol).
But it’s not only for protection. It’s for twirling.
What better attention grabber than a pretty parasol with hand drawn artistic designs carefully chosen to compliment your tattoos? Ink and ink.
I think of the sweaty hut in some faraway land with workers carefully, quickly, hopelessly putting the things together – cutting the paper, stapling the ribs, or brushing out long-practiced patterns across the delicate field – all the same yet each one different.
And here it comes, spinning down the middle of the street.
And all eyes turn.
Bill Chance 