The Invisible Man . . .

When the Nouvel Observateur news magazine came this week I was flipping through it when a piece about one of my favorite artists, Jerome Mesnager, caught my eye. He is currently part of a three man show at the Pavillon Carré de Baudouin in Paris, along with two other artists, Nemo and Mosko. Jerome Mesnager has done a series of "White Man" (homme blanc) graffiti paintings all over the world in the past twenty years or more, many of which are in Paris, and some, like those shown below, that I photographed in various places.
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By coincidence, this evening, just a day after seeing the article in the Nouvel Obs, I stumbled on a post on Adam's Invisible Paris blog about this same exhibition. If you are not familiar with it already, Adam's Invisible Paris is a fabulous place to browse if you love Paris, as I know many of you out there do . . . well, I guess that begs the question : Who doesn't love Paris ? ? ? So by all means take a look at his blog, he does thorough research on the Paris-sites he presents, yet manages to make it all easy and compelling reading. . . yes indeed, that is one fine blog about Paris there. (No, he is not paying me anything to write this !)
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So here is one of Jerome Mesnager's works, photo circa 1993 . . .
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Yes indeed, I recommend you run on over to Invisible Paris, and then on into the visible Paris as fast as your long legs can carry you to go see the exhibition at the Pavillon Carré de Baudouin, 121 rue de Ménilmontant, 75020 . . . like this white man is . . . but before you take off running, take just a moment to let me know what you think of these photos ? Have you ever come across any of Mr. Mesnager's work (play) in your travels ?
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Totems . . .

Native Americans in the Pacific Northwest created totem poles, mysteriously magnificent homage to the natural world around them. Today we create other forms of totems. This totem in New Jersey, on Route 40, photographed in 1987 was prime black and white photo material. What do you make of it ? To honor what deity was this totem built ?
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From Dead Air to Carlos . . .

The blogosphere or blogoverse is a vast and wild jungle, one never knows what or who one may stumble on while out crashing around in the underbrush . . . but just the other day I stumbled on a blog that is growing on me as the days goes by, which is "Daisy's Dead Air". Displaying a strong propensity for the music of the Grateful Dead, and good rock music in general, Daisy clearly has much larger interests. Go check it out for yourself, and be sure to let me know what you think. Today, for example, she posted a couple of videos : "Stormy Monday" as performed by Albert King and Stevie Ray Vaughan, and then Carlos Santana playing "Stormy". Excellent. As just a small tribute, here are a couple of photos I did of Carlos back in 1988 at the Columbia, Maryland, Merriweather Post Pavillion, during the afternoon soundcheck session. (see earlier posts from here). . .
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Magic In the Air . . .

This young lady whom I photographed back around 1988 was very studiously concentrating on her ability to make that ball levitate and hover just below her hand. She stayed that way for at least 20 minutes while I was watching, hardly breathing. There is magic all around us, all the time, if we can only slow down for a minute, forget about the tax return and car repairs, the grocery shopping and avoiding psychotics, everything that needs doing that isn't done yet; and just breathe in with a smile. . . saying : I'm OK, I've still got eyes to see with and a camera in my hand. . .
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So tell me something magic that happened in your life today . . .
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Once Upon A Champollion. . .

A couple of earlier posts in these pages, if you can find them, took place in Pere Lachaise Cemetery in Paris. Pere Lachaise came up again today when the subject of a conversation turned to Champollion and his travels in Egypt, the Rosetta Stone, his birth in Figeac, and that after all those astounding years in Egypt, he is buried in Pere Lachaise Cemetery. By chance I happened to have photographed his tomb just a few weeks ago. . .
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The subject came up for the simple reason that there is a new and wonderful blog that has been in existence for only a few short days, but which is well worthy of taking note of, and returning to often, because there will be appearing there in the coming days some of the most extraordinary photos of Egypt one is likely to see anywhere. The blog is called "Once Upon A Time In Egypt", presented by none other than Loulou, who also takes care of the blog Indiaphragme. Whether in India, Egypt, or wherever, she is a capable and prolific photographer, offering one masterpiece after another, casting her magic spells which keep people like me coming back day in and day out, like a zebra heading for a waterhole two or three times a day, seeking the essence of life. . .
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Urban Fantasy . . .

A television left out in the cold ? Kicked out of the house to wander homeless in a back alley in Paris ? What is the story behind this ? I'll bet one of you knows what happened here. . . can you please let us in on the secret ? ? ?
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And in this one, the writing on the wall says, approximately :
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In the indecent perfume
Of a rhythm
Our urban fantasies
Submerge
The frozen facades
Of daily life
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Now is that a trip of a tidbit of urban wisdom for you, or what ? And do these two photos have anything to do with each other ? I have to admit this was one of the more intriguing pieces of graffiti I've ever come across. Enjoy, my blogging friends, I'm off to get my beauty sleep, and to dream of indecent perfumes and urban fantasies ! Good night... or good morning... or g'day, as they say in Australia ! Whichever applies. . .
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Looking For A Needle . . .

What photographer has not tried a "Haystacks" shot with visions of Van Gogh in mind ? I was hoping that day back last Summer for a ray of golden sunshine to set things on fire here, but the sky remained obstinately overcast. So I took the picture anyway. . . sometimes we take what we are handed in life I suppose. . . the golden needle is often elusive. . .
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Pink Bird of Happiness . . .

I just discovered (or was it vice versa ?) an intriguing and visibly wonderful blog over in upstate New York called SparkleMirror Kiln Fired Art, presented by David who apparently loves all things ceramic. I'm not sure how David stumbled on the Magic Lantern Show, but he turned up as a follower, and then made it clear there were a few things here that were of interest to him. To whet his appetite a little further, and perhaps yours too (or perhaps not, there's no accounting for taste) I present this small piece of ceramic funerary art that was on an ancient tombstone in a cemetery in the middle of nowhere near here. Cemeteries are not sad or depressing places to me, I find them on the contrary full of peace, and sometimes joy. Like this joyous little bird, pink throated against the orange lichen. . . winging its way through the heavens of eternity. . .
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And I'm thinking that Laurie over at "Creating Pictures" may enjoy this too. And if you didn't stop by there after yesterday's angel post to see what he's been up to, I suggest you get on over there, because he's been busy again today. . . and when Laurie gets busy, well, watch out, surprises at every turn. . .
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A Headless Angel . . .

I took this picture in a Parisian cemetery in 1993. The raised index finger and missing head seemed to be suggesting to me that someone was saying, from beyond the grave, something like, "Don't look for me here, look for me up there". I'd be curious to hear your thoughts. . .
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This post is in tribute and an echo to to Laurie's blog Creating Pictures In My Mind, which was a busy place this weekend. If you haven't been already, I would recommend heading over there to take a peek, there are more angels, among other fascinating photos and thoughts. . .
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Beauty and the Beast . . .

Paris has that eternal reputation for beauty and light; but as in any large city today anywhere on Earth, one can rest assured of stumbling on surprises. As with a few earlier photos posted below (see "Paris : City of Blight"), not all is always rosy and gay in gay Paris. Sometimes ugliness is encountered in unexpected places. Sometimes ugliness radiates a certain beauty. Sometimes ugliness, when tinted with the acid dyes of hatred, venom, fear, and violence, is just plain ugly, with no possible redemption.
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Some people might consider this truck with its orange and yellow mural an eyesore. Others might consider it a work of urban art. I have mixed feelings. What do you think ?
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Bird Brains Looking to Cool Off . . .

It really did feel like the first day of Summer in Paris today. Even the pigeons were looking to cool down in the water running in a gutter. Sometimes even bird's brains need to cool down . . .
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Mirror, Mirror, On the Wall . . .

It was so hot in Paris today that we stopped in an ice cream place in the heat of the afternoon. This mirror on the wall there was sending subliminal signals to me saying . . . "photograph me, please photograph me, it's been so long since anyone noticed me, for what I am, a magical mirror, instead of just noticing their own vain selves in my reflective surface... photograph me, please photograph me. . .". .. And so I did :
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Of Snake Eating Lions . . .

I went into Paris today to, among other things, see the Warhol exhibition at the Grand Palais. (more on that later) When I parked the car and got out, practically the first thing I saw was this glaring lion with two snakes forming a knocker. I've seen plenty of lions' heads on doors in the past, but never one quite like this particularly fearsome example. I wonder if people who have a fear of snakes (let alone lions) are troubled if they have to grasp the knocker and knock with it to announce their presence here ???
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Circus (Continued) . . .

As mentionned below, the circus was in town today, replete with a sorts of colorful characters, like this plaster (or is "plastered" more likely) parrot. . .
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And there were flying blue elephants that made my head spin. . .
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And for a minute there I thought I was even seeing the dreaded pink elephant. . . am going to have to stop drinking so much in the afternoon, it is obviously doing me no good at all. . .
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The Circus Is In Town . . .

While out and about this afternoon, I ran smack into a big clown face. As is sometimes the case with clowns, it was hard to say with any certainty whether he was really all that friendly. Or not. I couldn't decide whether the white strip at the lower right of his mouth was supposed to represent a cigarette dangling there. If so, this would be a fairly shady clown indeed, but then, clowns are often a bit ambiguous. . .
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There was a good reason for the clown being there . . . the circus was in town . . .
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Return to Avignon . . .

In the vast and wide cosmos of the blogoverse, it is rare to stumble on a blog which remains day in and day out so consistently and thoroughly thought provoking in an un-pretentious, yet engaging manner as Avignon in Photos, presented by its charming hostess Nathalie. Every day we are treated to a variety of subjects which she shares with us, the fruits of her patient and observant strolls through that magical city which graces the lower reaches of the Rhone River the way an emerald might grace the navel of an Arabian dancer. In humble homage to Avignon in Photos, I submit these two photos done on a trip I took to Avignon in 2007. The second strange graffiti piece was on a wall in the Parking des Italiens. . .
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"H" . . .

The Mysterious "M" a few posts back was such a success, and elicited such a wide variety of Magnificent responses from Many of you, that I'm going to shift Mental gears Here, and try it again with an "H". . . so, it's time to pull out all the creative stops and submerge the comments box with your ideas about what the "H" here represents, no idea is too hare-brained to print. . . and Have a Happy day now, y'all Hear ?!?
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A Dream House Treasure Trove . . .

While out in BRittany on a bit of a Spring break a few weeks back, my no doubt demented bloodhound nose led me in a roundabout way to this abandoned shack in a thicket of brush near a ruined church. The well manicured front yard was strewn with various objects, as though they had tried to hold a jumble sale, and then gave up, and fled. (Maybe a bank made a large mistake in their favor, and they took the cash and fled, as happened in New Zealand recently.) Anyway, this place had obviously seen better day. . . or perhaps it hadn't !
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This washing machine drum is dedicated to Jeff34 over at Life Is Beautiful (in blog list at right), for he has a similar object in the photos on the right had side of his page. . .
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Whoever the place belonged to had very thoughtfully left a snack out on the table for me. . .
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The lawnmower, after a career in cutting them down, was succumbing to brambles . . .
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They had tossed everything out into the yard, even the bathroom sink. . .
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The interior decoration was nothing to write home about either. . . a bit Spartan. . . Just goes to show, one never knows what wonderful surprises one may find, if willing to poke around, off the beaten path.
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Peace and Love . . .

Two figures on walls, both bearing messages of Peace and Love. . . which one do you like better ? Don't see much of either sentiment whenever I read the news. But I'm not giving up hope. As long as there are still photographs to make. The white segmented figure in the first image was painted by Jerome Mesnager, photograph by Mr Toad, Paris 1993. Second image in eastern France, 1991.
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Ancient Stones . . .

Sometimes wandering around in France one finds paving stones in odd places, like these, next to a 15th century church, that you can imagine were not set in the ground yesterday. I can't imagine riding over such stones in a carriage with iron bands around the hardwood wheels. . . a back-breaking business, no doubt. . . but today, in a quiet alley where no one drives any more, they sit quietly, waiting once more for the sparks from iron shod horses hooves to set their patina aglow . . . yes, today, they wait patiently in the rain. . . for someone to notice them, for someone to see their inner beauty . . .
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And the church in question had a sign on it stating it was a registered historic monument, which seemed, well, a bit obvious to me. . . or perhaps it was the sign itself which was the registered monument ?
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Reflecting on Reflections . . .

After a Merry "M" Marathon with the "M" post below, it's back to bloomin' blogging business, which as you may be starting to realize by now, at the Magic Lantern Show, that means just about anything goes. . . well, almost anything . . .
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So, for something new and entirely different, by travelling via India, where Loulou's Indiaphragme is guaranteed for beautiful photographs all day, every day (she doesn't take any bad ones), I somehow found myself in a rainstorm in Canada, where Mountain Momma and friends have started up a photo blog which is open to all comers. So, if you're game, get on over there, and before the end of May, send her a photo on the theme of "Reflections". I did just now, and got a very friendly answer back almost before I'd sent the photo. . . it's as if she knew it was on the way. . .
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So, while still reflecting on the serendipitous crossing of paths that seems to happen often in the blogosphere, here is another "reflections" oriented photo for you, this one from Brittany, France, just a few short weeks ago . . .
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" M " . . .

There was a time in my life (and that time is surely not finished) when I went looking for texture in photographs, and purely texture. . . with little concern for the subject matter itself. Even something as simple as the letter "M" on an ancient wall, if it was reeking of texture, it was worth a frame of Kodak 400 ASA Tri-X B&W negative film to me. . . Any ideas from all you amazingly imaginative, mystic, and magical people as to what the "M" might mean here ? ? ?
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Graveyard Art . . .

The depth of humanity expressed and the variety of styles found in graveyard art never fails to astound me. Just the notion of leaving a visible trace long after one has passed on to other planes of energy is a subject full of poetry, and people sometimes reach considerable heights in artistic expressions of that longing to be remembered. This bas relief sculpture of an old woman reading a book with a child really grabbed me, and note the clogs she is wearing with upturned points. The girl, on the other hand, or foot, as it were, seems to be barefoot. . .
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Portraits of couples probably torn assunder by war or other calamities speak volumes to me. I just wish I could ask these people to tell me their stories. . .
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Clown Eclipse . . .

Spotted a circus sign on the way to work today, well, yesterday now, and the first thought that crossed my mind as I drove by was : "Wow, a partial eclipse of a clown !" Have I gone totally stark raving bonkers ? Or am I just a sucker for primary colors ? Sunday is a good day to head to the circus. . . right ? Anybody care to join me ???

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Centralia Regalia . . .

There are no end of strange and wonderful tales out there in the wide world. I would be curious to know how many of you around the blogosphere have heard of Centralia, Pennsylvania before now ? And if you have heard of it, have you ever been there ? I'd love to hear your stories.
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I went there after reading about it in the Philadelphia Inquirer back in the late 1980's. The town of Centralia fell victim to an underground coal seam fire that has been burning for almost 50 years, having started in 1961 or thereabouts. Nearly as old as me ! If Centralia had been a country ham, it would be very well smoked indeed by now. Practically all the former residents were smoked out, abandoned houses abound there.
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One website on Centralia has quite alot of history and photographs if you're interested in learning more and weren't familiar with the story already. . . In the "Pictures From Today" section of that site, there are a few shots of the Centralia Cemetery among the several photo galleries.
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This website contains a little more info and photos about Centralia, including an intriguing update :
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"June 2000: The town is now more accessible with Rt. 61 opened up. The fire continues and has moved up into the cemetery, smoke visible wafting up from around the gravestones. "
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Wow ! What an image ! I wonder if anyone out there has any photos of the smoky cemetery. . . I would have loved to have seen that. . . And for the long term residents of the cemetery, no disrespect intended, but I can't help but wonder if they weren't getting a little toasty with all that fire and brimstone right underneath them ?!? A little taste of hell . . . As for the two photos here, I took them when I visited Centralia in 1988. Needless to say, I would love to go back there today with a slightly more "modern" camera.
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Tree - Song ? Treason ? Tree Son ? Reason ?

I will try to keep a long story short here. Last Saturday I had planned a photo shoot with the owner of a bright yellow 1970's Volkswagen Beetle, we were going to come to this spot on a dirt road through a vast field of colza (rape seed?), where I wanted to try a few pictures of the bright yellow Beetle against the backdrop of the brilliant yellow field of flowers, and be able to make a few remarks about certain creatures in nature being able to change colors and camouflage themselves for survival purposes. But it was not to be, the Beetle owner backed out, literally, half an hour before we were to start. Tough luck.
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So I decided to take a little stroll there, seeing as I had nothing better to do all of a sudden, and I headed up this track through the heavenly yellow, and into the woods beyond. And it was there in the woods that I stumbled on a few trees which I mentioned to Laurie over at Creating Pictures that I would post soon. . . In any case, regardless of being stood up for the VW shots, it was a lovely afternoon for a stroll in the woods. . .
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Those dazzling yellow fields of rape seed are really something this time of year in France. . .
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I had hardly gotten into the woods before I came face to face with this message wishing me "Bonne Chance" or "Good Luck". . . It was disappointing to see people had spray painted graffiti on the tree trunks here in these off the beaten track woods . . .
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And the "Good Luck" trees were not the only ones that had been decorated by dim witted dolts bearing spray paint . . . I kept on walking . . .
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A bit further on I came to an arch in magical green light . . .
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And near the arch above there was a bright red sign on a tree trunk warning "Chasse au Grand Gibier - Danger", or "Big Game Hunting in Progress - Beware". Now I don't know what that sign really meant, because the biggest game in these parts is maybe a deer or a wild boar. . . when I think of "Big Game" I tend to think of elephants, rhinoceri, or water buffalo. . . I was expecting to see a herd of wildebeest behind the next tree.
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But saving the best for last, this is the photo I really wanted to share . . . deep in that stretch of woods there was a tree on which someone had nailed a metal sign long ago, and the tree had clearly decided to devour the offending bit of metal. . . I cautiously gave that tree a wide berth, lest it should think that I looked tasty too, and decide to nibble on one of the race of spray painting lunatics as dessert after finishing off the hunting sign . . . One never knows what one may find when venturing into a strange forest. And I saw not a single squirrel. . . (which is not in any way, shape, or form supposed to indicate that you should at the earliest opportunity go look at the blog of the Realm of the Lone Grey Squirrel . . . no, I did not say that at all . . . !)
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All Is Not So Well . . .

I took these pictures on the way to work yesterday. Prices rising, profits rising, purchasing power plummeting. All is not so well here in France, alot of people are fairly well pissed off. Alot of noise in the press about the large oil company Total which earned record profits last year but has been firing people. . . The message on this poster says to the effect of "Those that govern are lying, Total is lying" . . . social unrest is around the corner and just down the road. Remember what happened in Greece last Fall ???
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The rich should pay for their crisis, it should be forbidden to fire anyone, and 300 euros a month more salary, says the New Anti-Capitalist Party . . .
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