The end of the month. Time for a little wrap up. Lots of pictures to show you, and this isn’t all of them. But, I do try to keep current. I do try to show you newish work. Every now and then, I dip back into my files… usually when I haven’t been around enough to make new pictures for Storyteller. This is, after all, supposed to be a New Orleans blog.
So. Monday. June 1. Hurricane season starts. With this also being the tenth anniversary of Hurricane Katrina and what many folks call “The Federal Flood,” it’s an all hands on deck media circus starting, well, it seems like about now. I’m trying to ignore it. As August 29th rolls around, I’ll talk a little bit about it and show you some work that I’ve been holding back. But, that’s it. For me, it’s going to be like a jazz funeral. Start with a dirge, celebrate, recover, heal and move on. Ten years is long enough.
A little bit about what you are looking at.
1. The top picture is graffiti in Rosalie Alley. The alley is an old historical Native American and pirate path from the river to the French Quarter. It is located in The Bywater. It is known for Voodoo now. And, pool parties. I made two versions of this picture. The first, is with the graffiti cropped very tightly. Somebody else’s art became my art. The picture I chose for this post is something that sort of combines nature with man-made art. That’s why I like it.
2. More plastic flowers at Lafayette Cemetery No. 2. I’m sort of facisinated by this stuff. Unlike human beings and most things in nature, these flowers never die. Hmmm. I’ll tell you a little story. Once after eating a Chinese dinner, I got a fortune cookie. The fortune said, “Protect and honor your friends. Seal them in plastic.” Maybe there is something to this.
3. Graffiti number two. This time in the 9th Ward. I’m of two minds when it comes to tagging. Is it art? You know, like folk or street art. Or, is it vandalism? Should the police get involved? Probably not, since they are still short 500 officers and just yesterday two people were shot during broad daylight in the French Quarter. They have better things to do than chase down some kid with a spray paint can.
4. Voodoo. An offering, I suppose. Or, it’s just a bunch of stuff piled up on an old bird bath. I know. I know. Don’t get snarky. This is important to somebody. Just not me.
5. And… more graffiti. I just like this bit of spray painting. It almost looks primordial to me. I think it’s about fire raining down on our heads. No. No. No. It’s not some kind of end of days thing. I’m easily influenced by what I read. Today I read about exploding houses. Yeah, yeah… now you’re interested. Okay. It seems that back in the 1970s houses were exploding in newer sections of a city called Metairie, whose boundaries abuts New Orleans. Apparently, their gas lines were just run under cement slabs poured without any pilings below them. Pilings are important around here. We live on reclaimed swamp land. Our land is always settling for a whole host of reasons. Pilings must be driven deep into the ground to support the foundations, or they will crack. Prior to the early 1970s, that wasn’t a zoning law. You could pour cement slabs right on the ground. So, the land would subside and the gas pipes would bend and crack. The gas would seep into the house. Somebody would ignite a spark and BLAMMO. The house would explode. Usually, that house was in splinters afterward. Houses nearby were destroyed. Windows would be shattered a block or so away. There were many of these explosions. Somehow, nobody got killed. Yeah. I know. Voodoo.
There you have it. Exploding Houses. Right here in New Orleans. We are nothing if we aren’t exciting. And, you thought this would be a peaceful Sunday post. HA!
And, that’s it. Happy Sunday