In order to be an artist, you must pretty much reside on the margins. I’m sure the artist’s name who made the above painting has long been forgotten, but his life lives on through his art. That is indeed a noble legacy from living on the margins.
When I came across this building, I couldn’t believe my eyes. It is actually a mural painted on the side of a building in Old Town Quebec. And it was not the only one. The green fence is real, everything else is a painting.
This is another of my abstract realism photos that I’m kinda proud of. It looks like an abstract, but it is totally real. It was taken in 2000 during our last visit to Central Park before our relocation back to the Midwest.
Sometimes reality is in itself abstract. An example of that is above. It was taken at a Des Moines museum a few years ago. How creative.
I have got to put this picture back on the revised-edition of RJsView as it is one of my favorite memories from my visits to our northern neighbors. This old guy has likely spent a very long life in a very cold place. When I came across him, I almost had the feeling that I was invading his space, but got the idea that he really didn’t mind.
For this post, I give you a piece of wall art. I mean that literally “wall art”. I need to give you a little background before I tell you more about it.
I went deaf in 1988. It was not a sudden thing, it slowly evolved for a 20-year period. One of the things I missed the most immediately was that TV was just not the same. In 1988 closed captioning was in its infancy. Most of the programs I had watched were either not captioned or the captioning was so bad that it really wasn’t usable. But still, I refused to give up on one of my life’s pleasures. So, what I would do was to watch the pictures and make up my own stories about what was happening. 🥴 Most often the pictures ended up very mismatched from my personal storyline, but that was ok.
Luckily, it would only be a year or two until captioning was greatly advance and I could actually see/hear again, at least as TV was concerned. Now getting to the link between this picture and my words. It’s been thirty years + since those days, but I still like to make up stories about many of the photos I have taken. So, that is what I am about to do.
Right now I don’t remember exactly where this photo was taken. But I do remember it was from a small abandoned town somewhere in Indiana. About the only buildings still occupied was the fire station and post office. That is not too unusual as buildings seem to live way beyond their useful life when they are funded by taxes. But, I am getting off the story. I do remember that this was on a jail. One window still existed with bars on it and there was still evidence of a jail cell in the back.
I can conjure up a story about a jail breakout causing the damage repaired. Maybe it was from a Bonnie and Clyde small-town bank robbers. From the other buildings in town, one was used to be a café, and yet another was a general store and a hotel. That would seem to make it a prime target for a bank robbing couple who cruised through the time. My mind conjured up several other stories from this picture. But, the final chapter was always that the repair just wasn’t done right and over the years the amateur job failed.
Like my TV watching time, I’m sure my stories don’t come close to matching any reality, but that is ok. That is what life is all about.
I met this old guy in an Acadian Village in Nova Scotia a few years ago. It is one of my favorite pictures of that month long trip. He peaked his head out of his abode to see who was coming by.
Here is to you my friend. I hope you have survived the Canadian winters since we met.
I give you the Frank Lloyd Wright house near Springfield Ohio. I have been trying out about a dozen apps to find just what I want. This picture is a combination of two different ones. Looks kinda nice in a Van Gogh type way, but I need more practice yet. I give this about a 50/50 between abstract and realism.
I don’t know if she was really from Quebec but her mannerisms sure did speak French to me. She just had an arrogance that spewed from her every pore.
Life On The Margins 