Downtown Super Sunday.
This is the second of three big Mardi Gras Indian Super Sundays. There is one more to come this year. It will be on the Westbank. There are other appearances, some planned — like Jazzfest — and some unplanned. But, I think that’s it for me this year. It’s sort of funny. I was talking to a pal on the scene, and she said that she was sort of done with this. I agreed. There are only so many pictures you can take of these events. I start looking more and more for unique moments like the guy playing his tambourine in the middle of the field (which used to be houses pre-Katrina) and they keep getting harder to find.
That sort of changed when I got to the 7th ward. But, that’s about nostalgia. The first house that I owned in New Orleans is located a couple of blocks away from that guy in the field. When I arrived there on Sunday, it felt like home. Seeing my former neighbors was the best thing. But, I don’t live “der no mo’.” I got “lucky” — somehow — and managed to relocate to The Garden District, which is all that you expect it to be. For better or worse.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I had a great time making these pictures and more that you’ll see in the next few days. But, sometimes you just know when it’s time… As they say today, “it’s time to pivot.” Like all my documentation of all things storm damaged, it’s just time to move on.
The pictures. Well, you know about “Everybody Plays.” My favorite picture is what I like to call a little picture. “Paying Respect.” It’s not so much about the picture, which is okay. It’s about the content. The man on the porch was ancient when I lived in the neighborhood. He’s got to be nearing, or over, 100 years old today. Mardi Gras Indians follow their traditions. They came over to pay respect to him. He is an elder. Truly. The other picture that I like is “Drum Circle.” I have a lot of friends on the West Coast who participate in drum circles. They drum to connect. I think. These guys on the street drum because they are music itself. If you don’t start moving in time to their beat, you ain’t got no rhythm in you.