It’s Artica weekend again, St. Louis’ annual outdoor, out-there, visual, interactive and music festival. I went down for a while yesterday, still weighed down by some chronic bronchitis and back issues. There was an image at every turn. I gather this was supposed to be an eyeball head. Hard to see, but there were fine blood vessels painted on the sphere. Never saw her face.
Thanks to my alert City Daily Photo colleague in Strasbourg, France, https://strasbourgdailyphoto.blogspot.com/, for identifying the local ska punk band, The HotRails, who performed something involving pitch and rhythm at Artica on Saturday. Their fans spread far and wide, if not down my street.
Artica always has a beat up piano for public use. Name that tune.
Someone brought an old piano to Artica. What a great idea! I've seen outdoor public pianos only in a few places, particularly in Belfast, Northern Ireland. People love them.
Anyone who could play was invited to have a go at it. This chap was improvising until he saw me and my big lens when he, shall we say, struck a pose. He had more piercings than I have prescription medications, which is saying something.
More of this tomorrow. Big travel this week.
I found out by chance that this line was popularized by Oscar Wilde, who claimed he heard it in a saloon in Leadville, Colorado, while on his marathon U.S. lecture tour. At least this performer, who was publicizing a used piano dealer, wasn't playing Feliz Navidad. 
Maurice Ravel wrote a Piano Concerto For the Left Hand. I spotted the opposite effect during Open Studios weekend while was leaving an exhibit space on funky Cherokee Street, a strip that contains our town's (very) Little Mexico, art galleries and a socialist bakery cooperative. This impromptu sculpture was pressed into a corner. You had to play your own concert in your head.
