Eternal Light . . .

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While in Paris the other day for a morning trip to the Pitié-Salpetrière Hospital, in the church inside the hospital grounds I stumbled on the following artwork in a side chapel on a wall where it would be very easy to miss this surprising piece of graphic arts. I don't know who created it, when, or why, so there is some research to be done in that regard... If any of you alert and well-informed readers happen to know, please help enlighten me, I searched for quite a little while on Google but didn't come up with anything pertinent. These starkly drawn death's heads caught my eye particularly as they could very easily enter into the lexicon of artwork associated with the Grateful Dead, about which art a few previous posts have been done here.
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The message on the wall says in French : "Qu'ils reposent en paix et que la lumière du ciel les ésclaire éternellement". (old spelling of "éclaire"?), which translates as : "May they rest in peace and may the light of heaven illuminate them eternally".
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Hale & Hallow . . .

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This afternoon I finally got around to watching Michael Moore's movie titled "Capitalism: A Love Story". A little late getting to see that, but it is just as timely now as when it came out a couple of years ago. Perhaps more so. His references in that film to the 99% and the 1% have been in the press rather a lot these last few weeks. Are the protests in NYC and elsewhere a sign that people have finally really started to have had enough of certain bankers' and corporations' massive greed ? Despite the government bailout of the banks after the disasters of 2008, the church of greed went right back to their poisonous pilfering and pillaging practices. The bankers trading in virtual (and virtually incomprehensible) derivative products are the worst of the lot. Shame to each and every one of them. When I look at how much interest I have paid on my mortgage over the past ten years, and look at how little money I have in the bank today to fend for the uncertain future with, it makes me see red. We've been getting robbed. Enough is enough. May they all choke on their caviar crackers.
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Speaking of New York City, my oldest daughter was there on vacation last summer, and when she spotted this skeletal window display, she thought of me, and took the below photo. She knows how much I love the music and artwork associated with that legendary band, the Grateful Dead, and sent this off by e-mail to me as fast as the internet could carry it. Given that we are getting close to Halloween (hallowen ?) now, this seemed like a good time to share this with all of you good people out there. (And many thanks to you, sweetheart, for thinking of your papa when taking this photo !)
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And even more recently, my youngest daughter was walking in Paris with la Grenouille when they saw this amazing piece of street art on a sidewalk. My youngest had the same reflex as her big sister, and took a photo for papa. Am I not the luckiest father in the world then ??? And what a visionary the artist was who saw a ribcage of a skeleton when seeing that grill there in the ground ! And then to do it in pink ! (Thanks honey !)
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And with these next three images I just wanted to give you a little Fall color from France, and hopefully slip in just in time before James' Weekend Reflections shuts up shop here tonight. There is still a little beauty left around us. All around us. When I mentionned above something about seeing red, this is the kind of red I'd rather be seeing.
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Hang In There . . .

This speaks for itself . . .
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Life In the Big City . . .

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While in London for a few days during this past week, I was out looking around, sometimes at random, sometimes with a planned destination, but always easily sidetracked. Although it is not Halloween, and I'm not a fundamentally morbid sort of person, for some reason I kept stumbling on some scenes or stories related to mortality, that terminal end to the human condition.
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This first photo is from a churchyard which although just a few minutes walk from some of the biggest tourist attractions in London, is probably one of the least visited sites in that city. I thought the story was rather fascinating. One could perhaps even say, with no pun intended, that is a rather shocking story. What do you think ?
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I would fear, in the case of good gentleman Bacon above, that there may have been, as is often the case in such situations, some jokes which may have circulated at the time, despite the tragic nature of the event. Some wag would likely have asked, "Did you hear about Bacon ? He got grilled last night". I also thought, when seeing this memorial stone, of a line from a song which I've mentioned previously in these pages, The Wheel, by the Grateful Dead, which goes :
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"The wheel is turning and you can't slow down
You can't let go and you can't hold on
You can't go back and you can't stand still
If the thunder don't get you then the lightning will"
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Another more recent case, which just happened last week, will also, I fear, become the butt of any number of jokes in poor taste, despite the tragedy involved. Walking by the entrance to Waterloo Station, I couldn't help but notice the headlines placarded there about a woman being killed by a buttock implant operation. To learn more I picked up one of the free newspapers there. (since when are newspapers free ?) I was appalled to learn that a 20 year old British woman had flown to Philadelphia, my home town in the states, to have silicone injected into her posterior, presumably to increase the volume and roundness of it, in an illegal procedure performed in a hotel room. Shortly after having the injections of silicone, she died of an apparent heart attack.
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What sad and deranged times we live in, when a young woman, who in all probability had a perfectly fine and functional (for sitting on) posterior, felt she had to spend a small fortune in plane fare and the scandalous cost of doing so, to get a foreign substance pumped into her body to, supposedly, enhance her appearance to members of the opposite sex. We live in a world getting sicker by the minute, I'm afraid to say. The perpetrator of the procedure apparently disappeared, with the money of course, shortly after the young lady fell ill.
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It used to be that grisly headlines sold newspapers. Now they give them away, but they must need to keep their circulation numbers up in order to sell advertising space in their free paper.
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While out strolling in London I came across a number of skulls in various places, not that I was particularly looking for them, they just sort of appeared. So, along the lines of works of art which incorporated skulls into them centuries ago, illustrating the Vanitas theme, or the biblical quote, "Vanitas vanitatum, omnius vanitas", I offer you the following images to contemplate. This first was right on the banks of the Thames, at the entrance to some sort of horror show. (I didn't go in...)
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These next four were inside the British Museum, where we stopped to have a peek at the Elgin marbles, the Assyrian bas reliefs from Nineveh, and some Egyptian mummies, among other marvels. This first one was supposedly from an Aztec treasure trove, but was determined to be a fake. (Lynne, It might look great in sunglasses, no ?)
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This next mask was created on a real skull . . .
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Am not sure what this was all about . . .

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Ancient Egyptian skulls . . .

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This last was from the same graveyard where William Bacon's memorial stone was. Vanitas.
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Just A Little Further On . . .

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It seems hard to fathom that another year has passed, in the blink of an eye. The holidays have gone by and the new year has been amply celebrated, but a more personal day of reckoning is drawing nigh, that date of birth, where one steps back and considers where one has been, what one has become, and where one is going. I'm beyond the point where I'm secretly hoping for presents; a bit of cake will do the trick nicely, and la Grenouille is good at that sort of thing.
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No, these days it is more a question of wanting to give; to give my daughters a chance for an education worthy of their dreams, to give la Grenouille the company of a smiling toad, to give you the pleasure (if such it may be) of being able to view in these pages the photographs I've been pouring heart and soul into over the years, such as they are.
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There are some recurring themes in my work, which you know by now if you've looked back at any length into the archives here. I wonder if anyone does ever look back beyond the most recent of posts. Maybe someday. These pages contain already a good part of the history of my days here on earth. One life among 7 billion currently living, and among god only knows how many who went before. (One interesting article here gives a rough estimate of how many humans have ever lived.) I hope to keep going a bit further here, further on down the road.
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Dream cars have always had a powerful call for me, speaking volumes about our society. This one in southern France seen a few years back was a classic, disappearing under the brambles, and will be going no further, other than going back down into the ground.
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Texture is another favorite theme, especially texture in old paint . . .
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And texture in ancient wood, old rusting metal bits . . .
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Texture in stone . . .
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Even texture in bone . . .
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This grinning skull was in the window of a medical school supplies store in downtown Paris a few years ago, I don't know if it is still there. I photographed it because it brought back memories of other hanging skeletons from a laboratory oft visited in childhood.
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Came across a funny website recently called "dumpr.net" which lets you play around with your photos. One of the possibilities was to put your work in a museum. So if ever one day any of the work on this blog ever were to get into a museum, here is what it might look like. Keep on dreaming, all the way to eternity.
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So, hope to see you a little further on up the road . . .
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Driving On Into Dreams of the New Year . . .

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Back in September, in the back woods of Pennsylvania, driving down a back country road, far at the back of a vacant lot I caught a glimpse of something that flashed a spark of immediate recognition in my mind; I slammed on the brakes, turned around and drove back there. I had no choice in the matter. It was inevitable to me that this was an unavoidable rendez vous with chance, with hazard, with whatever you'd like to call it, yes, the dippity-do of serendipity had struck again.
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Barely visible from the road were three old Volkswagen buses quietly abandoned there. Finishing their days with the vacant expressions of a vacant lot, forgotten, forgotten save for probably the extremely rare passerby such as myself who might actually turn around to come take a closer look. But how could I not ? In another life long ago I owned two of these beasties. Not at the same time. Both of them came to tragic ends. Perhaps they also now inhabit some place like this. I don't know. But I do know there was something quite magical for me in this place.
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While I was there admiring the three VW buses visible from the road, a large four wheel drive pickup truck pulled into the lot, and I admit to having a moment of serious apprehension that it might be a local redneck ready to have me arrested for trespassing, or worse. In fact, it turned out to be the owner of the land, who lived just up the road, where he has a thriving VW repair business. He was quite friendly, when he realized I had a little bit of a passion for old VWs, he suggested I go poke around in the woods up the hill from the vacant lot, where there were a few dozen more old VWs finishing their lives in the underbrush. I didn't need to be asked twice.
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So what better way to head into the new year coming up soon, than to take a little trip down memory lane to a small corner of dreamland, inhabited by dream cars just waiting for someone to stop by and appreciate them. I was pleased, tickled pink in fact, to have been able to play that role that fine autumn day. (and many thanks to you, Craig, if you should ever see this ! )
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Some of the vehicles in question had obviously belonged to Grateful Dead fans. But just as the Grateful Dead died when Jerry Garcia passed away in 1995, so too did the need for so many VWs like these which carried Deadheads from concert to concert, back in those days long ago. "How ya Phillin" is of course a reference to the Grateful Dead bass player, Phil Lesh.
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As there are a few reflections in some of these windows, am including this in the Weekend Reflections series over at James place.
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More Grateful Dead art in a window sticker... dancing bears, terrapins from Terrapin Station, and the raven...
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Still more Grateful Dead VW art . . . VW buses going forever in a circle on a VW window.
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VWs were not the only vehicles abandoned there . . . a school bus was hiding in the trees, ready for another road trip, further on down the road.
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This blue bus was nearly identical to the first one I purchased, out in California. ("I'll meet you in the back of the . . . blue bus, the blue bus...")
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The jungle seemed to be on the verge of winning the battle. In another year or two these beautiful old cars may be totally obscured. I wish I could have brought a few back home with me. They make great lawn ornaments !
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Many different models and colors were available ! All in varying degrees of dilapidation.
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Who could ever forget the dashboards in these babies, and the wacky shifter diagram they had on the ashtray ?
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A pair of hubcaps was lying forlornly in the autumn leaves. With the owner's permission, I did bring one of them back home, it was all I could fit in my bagage. A dead WV souvenir.
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When They Bring That Wagon 'Round . . .

To quote one of my favorite songs . . .
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"When they come to take you down
When they bring that wagon 'round
When they come to call on you
And drag your poor body down
Just one thing I ask of you
Just one thing for me
Please forget you knew my name
My darling Sugaree"
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(the photo is from one of my favorite regions in France. . . les Causses. . .)
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This Bird Has Flown . . .

Lest anyone think from the previous post that the author of this humble little blog might be succumbing to a bout of end of Summer nostalgically induced melancholic whimpering . . . please banish the thought, all is well, this bird has busted out of the coma-cage, and flown off into the wild blue yonder of freedom to create and mingle and sing and whistle . . . see you there, ok ?
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Au cas où quelqu'un aurait pu penser après le post d'hier que l'auteur de ce petit blog bien humble serait en train de sombrer au plus profond de la melancolie produit par les gemissements de fin d'été, s'il te plaît cette pensée est à proscrire, loin de là, tout va bien cet oiseau a cassé la porte de son prison-coma-déprime, pour s'envoler loin dans les cieux vers la liberté de la création, les rencontres, en chantant, en sifflotant, alors, on se donne rendez-vous là-haut ou là-bas ou n'importe où, ok ?
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This grainy black and white video of the Grateful Dead back in 1978 is full of raucous energy, note how Jerry is jumping around on stage, and even Bill who got pretty stoic in later years is whaling away at those drums for all he's worth ! And of course, the line in this song I had in mind is to the effect of "Summertime, done come and gone, my oh my !" . . . Turn it up and rock ! Should be no danger of becoming comatose with this one . . . ;-D
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PS . In fact, I'm not even sure that this photo depicts a bird cage, I'm wondering if it might have been a rabbit hutch or some such ? ? ? (I didn't check to see what the droppings in it might reveal)

Life May Be Sweeter For This, I Don't Know . . .

After a grueling week at work, it's time to toss out a memory from something I used to love to look forward to doing on weekends, or anytime, which was heading out somewhere to see the Grateful Dead play. . . and that is something I did more times than I care to admit. Never had a bad time, on the contrary, every show was just an amazing trip. So here's to ya, Jerry, may you R.I.P.
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Did you ever see a Dead show ? If so, where ? When ? What did you think ? This one was from Paris, 1990, at the Zenith Theatre, where it was easy to get right up to the edge of the stage while Jerry was smiling over Crazy Fingers. If you didn't ever get to a show, have you maybe listened to any of their music, which spanned 30 years from '65 to '95, when Jerry passed on ?
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This piece of graffiti from somewhere in eastern France probably had nothing to do with the Grateful Dead, but it might have. . . you never know. It is, I admit, a fairly amateurish piece of graffiti, as graffiti goes.

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Heather Ainsworth : Dead Photos come Alive !

I would be unable to tell you how it happened, that stroke of singularly serious serendipity the other day, but totally by chance I stumbled on Heather Ainsworth's blog while blog surfing, and I would encourage you to stumble over to it too, as fast as your legs can manage. . .
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I know there are a few of you readers out there who have listened to a little, or alot, of music by the Grateful Dead, or by their more recent derivatives such as Phil & Friends, The Other Ones, or now, just plain "The Dead". Well, The Dead are on tour, and they played in Albany, New York on 17 April, where Heather Ainsworth just happened to have a Press pass, a Nikon camera, and a clear notion of what she was looking for in terms of powerful images. . . and by golly, she got the goods, she bagged "The Dead", and brought them back alive !
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Heather's "Dead" photos, which you can see a few of on her blog Freewheelin' (link above), and which you can see a whole photo gallery of on the Utica Daily News site, are some of the best live music images I've ever seen anywhere, bar none. She is right up there in the same league as Annie Liebowitz when Annie photographed Jerry Garcia, John Lennon, or the Rolling Stones. Heather Ainsworth's photographs are dripping in musical energy, a crystal clear transmission of that magic which has always resonated around the Dead's music. . . go take a look, like, immediately. That's an order ! And while you're on her blog, take a look through her other work, she has done some excellent photo journalism on a number of compelling subjects. . .
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Here is just one of Heather Ainsworth's "Dead" photos from the Albany show, which she very graciously gave me permission to publish here, for all you good people's collective pleasure. . . Thank You Heather !
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PS And I just now realized there is more of her work visible here on her website as noted in the watermark in this photo !
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Stone Devil . . .

While rambling around one afternoon in Brittany the other day, stumbled on this charming figure in a churchyard garden. . . no doubt there for the past few hundred years to remind people that they had better behave. . . or else ! Never really adhered to that line of logic. . . but I loved the work of art this is at first sight.
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And this piece of music goes hand in hand with this gentleman :
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Just Another Saturday Night . . .

Just another Saturday night ; got another batch of black and white photos back from the lab, negatives from 1993 converted to digital files. . . nothing else to do but sit down with some Grateful Dead beer poured in Mr. Toad's mug, and have a good look through all those old photos, . . and maybe bring a few of them to you in a little while . . . have a great weekend !
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Grateful Dead Beer !

Now, before getting on with today's blogging business, to continue with "Yesterday", which is in fact now day before yesterday, if you see what I mean, it it is time for a word from our sponsors.
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After years of searching I finally found the perfect beer for Grateful Dead fans (otherwise known as "deadheads"). "Mallozh Ruz" is a locally brewed Brittany beer from the town of Huelgoat. For anyone interested in funerary art, cemeteries, legends of death and magic, or just plain art in general, having at least one of these bottles at home is a must. . . so, time to get in or on your planes, boats, cars, trains, tractors, bicycles, tricycles, horses, or rabbit drawn carriages, or whatever means of locomotion you habitually use, and get on over to Huelgoat to pick up a case or two of Mallozh Ruz beer ! Now how is that for absolutely free publicity ! And you can tell them that Owen sent you . . . :-)>
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This stone face was prominently displayed in front of a church in the town where I found the marvellous bottles of beer, Belle Isle en Terre, Brittany. . . I fell in love with her immediately, much to my wife's consternation ! Well, ok, she needs a little bit of a nose job, but that's not a problem. . . her inner beauty was clearly visible . . .
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Grateful !

When I look back on the occasions in the past where my life might very easily have come to a sudden end ; the car wrecks, the parachute mishap, and other assorted close calls. . . well, all I can say is : "I'm just grateful to still be here, just getting on, one day at a time, with a few friends and a loving family around, with a camera in hand, and a guitar at hand . . ."
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And being grateful to be alive, versus dead, is a theme that goes well with an Easter weekend, even if I'm not a very religious kind of guy, in the organized religion sense of the word, and it is also a theme that goes extremely well with the music and general philosophy of the Grateful Dead.
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While out this afternoon I bumped into a friend who suggested I take a look at the New York Times website which posted a story about the Grateful Dead yesterday; which you can read here, if you're interested. They are also encouraging readers to submit Grateful Dead related photos to the reader album in progress, which you can see here, there are already hundreds of photos there. . . I couldn't resist uploading a couple myself. . . but as I don't know yet whether they will actually be posted, here are three shots from a Dead show in Paris, France on 27 October, 1990 . . . Jerry, Bob, and Micky . . . It has been said the Dead were not the greatest band to do what they did . . . they were the ONLY band to do what they did !
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