Big wind-up to the walk through Garden Glow at our botanical garden. The view is looking back across the central axis reflecting pool toward the Climatron. I took many shots of this view as the light patterns and colors constantly changed. This was my favorite.
We are in the air Wednesday, along with hoards of other Americans, for our Thanksgiving holiday. We were away on a road trip last weekend, so I may use some images from that as a bridge.
Another year-after-year favorite at Garden Glow. The lines of small lanterns are perfectly straight. The light colors and patterns are in constant flux. This might be better represented by a video, but this is a photography blog.
Not the riot of color found in most other displays at Garden Glow, but I like its simplicity and subtlety. And there is no way to find your way through it, only the long way around.
A tunnel of changing colors in motion. Not quite the same effect as when the Starship Enterprise goes into warp drive, but still pretty cool. The path is one way, with the lights moving away from visitors. You could feel like you are being sucked through. What happens when you come out the other end?
Another bauble in Garden Glow. The Climatron is a geodesic dome that contains four climatic zones, formed by complex internal shapes and air systems. As with lots of the other glow features, the colors change and pulse.
Just around the bend from the viewpoint in yesterday’s post, visitors to Garden Glow pass through curtains of pulsing light. A single exposure can only capture a moment. These lights were constantly changing color and pattern.
One blow after another. The execrable Matt Gaetz as Attorney General? Robert F. Kennedy, Jr., as Secretary off Health and Human Services, someone who discourages using vaccines and thinks something in the water can make children transgender? Seriously? I’m drifting into a personal, unproven conspiracy theory that Trump, full of schadenfreude, really wants to wreck the country. So, another old photo, an infrared looking over Forest Park, where the trees are white and the sky is dark.
Well, I thought I was doing better until I found out that the president-elect had nominated Satan’s stepson to be attorney general, our chief law enforcement official. I got the news while waiting at our major hospital for a steroid shot in my lower back. Maybe I should have asked for one in my head, too.
Anyway, another shot from my visit to Forest Park. The statue is called The Apotheosis of Saint Louis (Louis IX of France). His history is, let’s say, controversial but the statue is a local icon.
It was time to drag myself out of the house and do something. Give myself a mental health day, so I took my camera and went to Forest Park. Autumn has come late here. Sometimes we get no color at all; leaves turn brown and just drop. October was very warm and dry, not good for leaf color. November has been cooler and wetter, so we are getting something. The view here is the top of Art Hill, with the art museum and the heroic statue of St. Louis in the background.
I still don’t have the drive to get out with my camera, so I’m continuing to riffle through the archives, looking for images that express my feelings. This was a clothing shop for the young and hip on Cherokee Street in St. Louis. The store itself failed before too long. Monday was Veterans Day in the US and I was reminded of Trump's comment a few years ago that our military personnel who died in service to their country were suckers and losers.
Still, there is some light at the end of my tunnel. Mrs. C and I are taking a weekend trip to northern Illinois, to see the person who was once probably my best friend. We shared a cheap apartment when we were in grad school. We were out together on St. Patrick’s Day, 1973, when I met Carolyn in a bar. We’ve been in contact some online but haven’t been face to face in years, maybe decades. I’m looking forward to this.
Grant us peace. We could use some uplift after the week we’ve had.
As I mentioned, we went to a performance of Mozart’s Requiem yesterday. One of the good things about this town is that we have a spectacularly good symphony orchestra, really top tier. That’s our wooly-headed music director, Stéphane Denève, on the podium. The music was at times terrifying but ended with hope. I’m grasping for some.
Again, no energy to go out and shoot so pulling from the archives. It rained all day yesterday anyway. The statue is in front of the St. Louis Planetarium, and so is probably looking to the stars. Still…
Mrs. C and I are going to the symphony this afternoon. It seems appropriate that we are hearing the Mozart Requiem.
Well, I’m not hyperventilating or pulling the covers over my head and refusing to get out of bed. The photo is obviously not from St. Louis (it’s Siena, Italy), but I’m still despondent about what my country decided it wanted to be. Mrs. C and I just decided to visit Ireland in the spring and I could probably get an Irish passport since my grandfather was born there, but that just leads to impractical fantasies. It all makes me think of a quote by the old acerbic journalist, H. L. Mencken. You may know it, but I won’t repeat it here.
I usually consider myself an even-tempered guy, getting through the ups and downs of life pretty smoothly. However, I can’t remember when I last felt as depressed as I have been the last couple of days. No motivation to go out and photograph something so I pulled out this image, taken earlier this year. It’s a iPhone shot using the TinType app.
As I prepare this post Tuesday evening, I do not know which side of the force will prevail. Now I lay me down to sleep...
A benefit of public events like the Halloween party is a request for a picture is rarely declined. A bad thing is that is that it can very hard to talk to the subjects and learn something about them. Deafening music is blaring from the stage. People are walking through your shots and friends of the subjects don’t notice the photographer. Still, these young women wanted to be on display but I never got to find out why.
I may have to do music instead of an image tomorrow, either the Hallelujah Chorus or somebody’s Dies Irae. Or I - and all of us - may have to hold our breath.
I know we’re past Halloween, but tomorrow in the United States is our major trick or treat day. If I were still under my youthful influences, I’d be lighting candles. As it is, I’ll go a little more into recent inventory. This was a bit of the crowd in front of the runway for the Central West End Halloween party costume contest. Lucky combination of stage lights and fill flash (photographer geek stuff).
The Central West End Halloween party has a costume contest with cash prizes. People do their thing strutting down a runway while judges assess scores. There is a perimeter fence around the stage so the audience doesn’t get underfoot. I of course, get as close as I can.
This delightful couple took turns using a single lawn chair near the fence. I guess they saw me in my gimpy back mode trying to get close and told me to go on up to the rail. I told them that they were there first and I didn’t want to block their view. They told me to just go ahead. I asked if I could take their picture and they gave me this charming pose. The woman asked me how much I charged for photos and I said nothing, that I’m delighted to share. I gave them my card and asked them to email me. I never heard from them.
Oops, almost forgot that it’s theme day, not something the admin should do. We think we eat a very healthy diet at home but we don’t do anything fancy, certainly nothing photogenic. This picture is from an upscale local restaurant with an open kitchen. I’m impressed with the concentration and care.
Hard to be sure, but I think this chap was supposed to be Moctezuma, the last independent king of the Aztecs, or something with that flavor. It’s not obvious from this angle, but his cape is the Mexican flag, which might be seen as disrespectful.
There is a Dia de los Muertos street party in another part of town tomorrow and I may check it out.
While working the crowd at the Central West End Halloween party, I came across a colorfully dressed family speaking Spanish to one another. I’m not up on popular culture so maybe a reader can identify the theme. My Spanish isn’t very good so I asked permission for a snap in English. ¡Ciertamente! They were out there to be seen.
Lots of us shooters are uncomfortable photographing people in the street. I’ve been taught how to go about it by the best teacher I've ever had for anything ever, Bobbi Lane, https://www.facebook.com/profile.php/?id=100063709410534 . It’s still awkward for those of us who only do so occasionally but there are times when it’s easy. Public events where people want to be seen are the best. Just an “Excuse me, ladies, may I?” never gets a turn down at something like STL’s Halloween party.
A candy store for local photographers: on the Saturday before Halloween, our Central West End neighborhood has a big public Halloween party in Maryland Plaza. The strange side of St. Louis shows up in force. Curbside bars line the surrounding streets. Costumes range from simple to wildly creative, and there is a contest that we will come to. Plenty of things that go bump in the night.
All members of the same family, partly blocking my view of the passing parade of strange people at the Renaissance Festival. The only thing to do was to make them my next target. I may be an old no-fun frump, but I couldn’t imagine dressing like this. But that raises another question - am I just being a voyeur?
A warm-up act before the jousting involved tossing a metal beer keg back and over the head. Most of the contestants were burly men with thick beards, aggressive looks and covered in tattoos. However, some of the women refused to cede the field. This one got off a good throw.
A family watches an aerial dance act at the Renaissance Festival. Each seems to have their own filters. Maybe the boy in the Harry Potter outfit can conjure up some excitement.
Jade idol? Shrek’s weird aunt? For Americans of a certain age, someone from the valley of the Jolly (ho ho ho) Green Giant? This woman and her similarly-made up male companion entered the festival grounds with us. We never figured out what they were about, not that they were in our sight the whole time.
And what’s with the red fingernails against all that green and the tan bag? Inquiring minds want to know.
One of the first acts the family encountered when we arrived at the Renaissance Festival was Ace and Rosie, a charming young couple from Minnesota who perform as The Courting Jesters. (They are an item but not married, so, get it?) He is a juggler - balls, knives, flaming torches, or all at the same time. She is a hula hoop adept, spinning up to 10 at a time from her neck to her ankles. She can even spin a hoop on her nose.
And funny, too. Locals, there is one last weekend to see them at the festival. https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=61565555291701
Now that’s eye contact. Halloween is a big, commercialized deal in the United States and this visitor to the Renaissance Festival looks ready to dish out more tricks than treats. No knocking on her door.
So-called renaissance festivals have become a fixture around the U.S. and, I think, Europe. We took Ellie yesterday. People dress in all sorts of strange costumes, very loosely in line with the theme. This man attended with his nephew. He told me he had immigrated from Denmark about four years ago (although his speech made it obvious that this was made up) and started a farm in the region. Friendly, garrulous and happy to pose, but he kept addressing me as grandfather. Is it that obvious?
There seems to be a sense of determination in these Artica attendees but there was no obvious destination. Maybe they were heading toward friends. The red nose thing is, I think, associated with some charity but it looks like it’s just for fun here..
New event to shoot today.
Another “hey, mister, take our picture!” moment at Artica. It attracts all ages, with a range here from young to (I’m guessing) late middle. There are even some oldsters wandering around, like me and Hap, one of the founders.
Artica traditionally ends with the burning of the big wooden effigy, traditionally Our Lady of Artica but modified for this year’s new location. The organization takes fire safety very seriously - it has to. Permits are required from the city fire department and one of their big pumper trucks is always on standby. There has to be insurance. There is a group of well-trained volunteers in full protective gear to manage it all.
What? I didn’t expect Papageno and Papagena to be attending Artica. May they be blessed with lots of little chicks - if that’s what they want. duck://player/87UE2GC5db0
Suprise! Looks like the DJ at Artica got his finger stuck in the wrong circuit. I don’t understand how these set-ups work, but then I do better with violins and clarinets and that sort of thing.
Lots of children at Artica. The unseasonably warm weather (is that even worth mentioning any more?) encouraged them to tear all over the place. One father and daughter brought a large foam (I think) glider. The kid had a mighty hurl. The wings often fell off on landing but she would pop them back in and promptly relaunch.
Another loose association in an old brain: https://youtu.be/6c1BThu95d8?si=BryfJhcCdCxRjs96 . The lyrics are light weight but the official 1967 video is top-of-the line psychedelic pop. Return with us now to those thrilling days of yesteryear. Looks like the tradition carries forward.
An installation at Artica. Is the word trash here a noun or an adjective? Create art made of trash, or elevate trash into art? There is a long, complicated history about this question over the last century or more. Think of Marcel Duchamp and Louise Nevelson, but the list could go on and on.
Okay, I’m old by most standards. Everybody knows about old people’s puzzlement with young people. ('Twas ever thus.) Still, I look at these four and think about questions of class, culture, privilege and society. I was roughly their age in the geologic era known as the 1970s. I spent the first part of it as a cheaply dressed, if not ragged, graduate student. My three sibs did about the same. We were not wealthy but our parents insisted on education and we did what was expected, ending up with four bachelor’s degrees, a J.D., a Ph.D. and an M.B.A.
For the rest of that decade, thanks in no small part to the woman who kept us financially afloat early on, I wore cheap suits, then better suits, and had a couple of kids. We bought a station wagon. I forgot I had read Jack Kerouac but then read Zen And The Art Of Motorcycle Maintenance. I would have loved to have sat down and talked to these young people about their lives, but I was out cruising for images.
A striking woman in attendance at Artica. Mrs. C and I tried to figure out what she was up to. She was there by herself, or at least we never saw her interact with anyone. She hung around near where we had pitched our lawn chairs for the burn, taking pictures and selfies, and obviously knew how to pose. The lens can capture moments but not always tell the story.
