Right Around Here

Tuesday afternoons never disappoint me.  Even though I usually have no particular place to go,  I still make it a point whenever I can to pack up my cameras and head out in search of something unusual, unique, odd, historic, nostalgic, or just the occasional random irregularity.  You know...things that just seem to be out of place or don't go together.  Like, oh, say for example, a bright blue bath tub sitting outside surrounded by a group of pink Flamingos.  Now there's something you don't see every day.

 

Sometimes I want to go knock on somebody's door and ask them about some of the sights I come across, "Hey buddy, what's up with the bathtub and pink Flamingos?"  But then, maybe there are some things that are better off being left to the imagination.  

I decided to drive (I can't wait for warmer weather when that word drive becomes ride) to some very small towns in the area.  It's the smallest towns that sometimes offer the biggest surprises.  I didn't have to go far to discover a castle sitting atop a little hill on the edge of the first town where I stopped.  Just turned down a side street and there it was.

A tiny castle, and not one that would hold off the barbarian invaders from the great white north, but still a castle.  It was located in someone's back yard so I didn't investigate further, but it was another one of those,  "Hey buddy, what's up with the castle?" moments. 

On a large lot in this same town was a building with a sign out front identifying it as the Art Ranch.  It was hard to tell if it is still in use.  I would like to think that it is.

I would also like to think that it is a place for art. Not a place owned by a guy named Art.
About thirty minutes away and a mile off the main highway, in the same town as the above mentioned bathtub/Flamingo spectacle, I saw a Gremlin.  A real Gremlin.  Ok, show of hands - who had or had a chance to ride in a Gremlin back in the day?  Pretty much a deathtrap and a money pit, but that doesn't change the fact that they're a pretty cool car.  Probably more so now than then.  I broke out the old Polaroid instant camera for this shot.  I just seemed right to take a picture of a Gremlin with a camera that might have been sitting right there on the seat when this car was new and roaming the streets of Any Town USA.

Another few miles down the road is what was once known as the sheep capital of the country.  I remember there being a sign many years ago proclaiming as much, but it's gone now.  Apparently they moved a lot of sheep through that town during more prosperous times.  But, like a lot of small towns these days, there isn't much going on.  They still have rooms for rent, though -

This might have been a boarding house at one time.  It's always nice to see old buildings like this in good repair and still functional.

Last stop was what is left of another once active small town.  Not so much any more.  I imagine this was a busy store at one time.  The sign on the door is still in good condition, unlike the rest of the building. It reads "Reach for Sunbeam Bread." I bet it was good bread.  With a name like Sunbeam, it has to be good. Right?  

Notice the reflections in the windows.  They really make this photo pop when you see it up close.  I wish I could make it larger here so you could see the details. It really was an impressive scene.  Hopefully you get the effect.

Then it was time to head back home, to another small town that has changed quite a bit over the years.  I won't say it has changed for the worse, however.  There are still a lot of good people here, and it's still home. That means a lot. After all, isn't that where the heart is?

                                                          Roger O'Dea     2/19/2014

All The World's A Stage

I can't stop thinking about the recent death of Philip Seymour Hoffman.  When I start thinking about something too much it usually means that I need to write about it.  That always seems to help me put to rest whatever it is I'm thinking about too much.  One reason I'm thinking more about the death of this particular person is the way it happened.  Alone in his $10,000 a month apartment with heroin scattered around the room and a needle stuck in his arm.  So tragic for someone so talented and for someone who seemed to have shrugged off his fame and lived what some who knew him called an "unassuming life" and said that he was just a "regular guy."  But regular guys don't shoot heroin.  It's all just so sad.  The other reason for my reflection has to do with the connection I felt to the characters he played in certain movies.  Some of his roles were familiar to me in both time period and subject matter.  Almost Famous, set in the year 1973, is a good example.  So many scenes and conversations in that movie took me back to that year in my own life.  Scenes like this one, which is pretty accurate right down to the Pabst Blue Ribbon beer on the table and the shag carpet.

There is also a scene in this movie in which Lester Bangs, played by Hoffman, as the editor of a music magazine called Creem, is having a conversation with William Miller, a young kid, played by Patrick Fugit, who is trying to break into the business as a music writer/reporter.  Following a long lecture about how corrupt the music business is, Bangs suddenly pauses, then says, "I can give you 35 bucks.  Give me a thousand words on Black Sabbath."  This gets the kid started on his way, and for the rest of the movie you see him carrying around a small, cheap cassette tape recorder with a microphone about the size of a magic marker.  The reason this scene stood out so much for me is that when I was only 18 years old and working as a dj (that's disc jockey for those of you not hip to the lingo) at a small AM radio station in South Dakota my boss came to me one day with my first big assignment.  Militant members of the American Indian Movement had just staged an armed occupation of Wounded Knee, a small town on the Pine Ridge Reservation about a hundred miles away.  A press conference was scheduled for the next day in Rapid City, about 50 miles away, and reporters from the major national news networks would be there, along with South Dakota Senator James Abourezk, Abourezk's aide Tom Daschle, FBI officials and a bunch of other big shots.  For some reason our own news director was not available, so I got the assignment.  I was nervous, excited and scared all at the same time.  But I went, and there I was - sitting at an over sized conference table with all of these pros with expensive equipment, wearing suits and smoking Chesterfields.  A couple of them may have even been right out some classic film noir, wearing a Fedora with a tag that said PRESS sticking out of the hatband.  It was a big moment for me...even if I was way out of my league.  Thank God I never asked a question.

Another Hoffman movie role that got to me was The Count in Pirate Radio.  It should be obvious by now that my radio days were a huge influence in my life and the source of some very fond memories.
I played a lot of those same records in real life as those guys did on that underground station located on a ship drifting somewhere off the coast of England.  I wasn't quite as animated, however, and I was bound by FCC regulations as well as local standards of the time.  But, in one of my proudest moments, I did almost get fired for playing "The Ballad of John and Yoko."  Some of the lyrics were...well...let's just say they weren't acceptable to the owner of a local station in a small midwestern town.  He gave me a break, though, and I'm glad he did.  Thanks Joe.
My next favorite Hoffman role was Brandt, the nerdy personal assistant to Mr. Lebowski. That's Mr. Jeffrey Lebowski, the millionaire philanthropist, not Jeff Lebowski, the Dude.  You know, the one who abides.  I guess if you haven't seen the movie then you don't know.  So see the movie.

There. I feel better.  Maybe I just needed to talk about some of these things.  It could be that deep down when I hear about the death of someone I admire, even though I may not know them, it causes me to consider my own mortality.  After all, I'm not in my early 50s any more.  I'm not even in my mid 50s any more.  But I plan on being around for quite a while yet. As Gavin Cavanagh, one of those crazy guys on Radio Caroline out there in the North Sea said so poignantly "Now here's a rather long record. I hope I'm here at the end of it."

             Roger O'Dea     2/4/2014

Unnecessary Objects

I did it again.  This is what happens when I go through an entire day unsupervised.  I buy things.  Sometimes I trade for things. But mostly I buy them.  I can't stop.  It's just too much fun browsing all of those antique stores, second hand shops and flea markets.  I always find something I need.  Maybe "need" is not the right word.  "Want" might be more like it.  But, at least everything I find has some meaning or value to me.  Well, almost everything.  I'm still not sure what the motivation was to buy those miniature fat cat bobbleheads.  I guess you could say they're small works of art.  Art.  Yeah, that's it.  You know how I feel about any kind of art.

So there is a reason to my many and varied purchases.  As evidence I will submit this next photo featuring some of my important finds that I happened to have close at hand, and offer some explanation as to their significance.

The long out of print Richard Brautigan book was discovered in a used book store.  I like it because it reminds me of when I was seventeen.  It was a very good year.  The other book came from a general consignment store.  It's one of the most exquisitely written books I've ever read.  And I've read it several times.  The tiny painting on canvas was one of several being offered at a yard sale just outside Spearfish City Park during the summer festival.  The artist is Lisa Howard.  Similar works by this artist were being sold at one time in the store at the Dahl Fine Arts Center in Rapid City.  They may still be available there.  The campaign button has a very special meaning to me.  I found it in a display case at an antique consignment store.  Even though I was still in high school,  I worked very hard for Senator McGovern during that campaign but for some reason I didn't save any souvenirs.  I still believe him to be the most decent and sincere man ever involved in politics in this country.  The camera is my latest acquisition.  It was buried on a bottom shelf in a cluttered corner of another consignment antique gallery.  Didn't even see it at first.  I noticed it after picking up an old radio that was sitting in front of it blocking the view.  It's a Kodak Instamatic from 1976.  Still in the original box, complete with flash bar attachment and user guide.  The original price sticker from Sturgis Drug is still on the box!  $23.50.  That was a lot in 1976.  I paid $4.50 for it.  I know!  Right?  Can't wait to find some film and see if it works.  So, that's it for...oh wait...the camel.  I don't know why I bought that stupid camel.  It was just sitting there on the shelf, away from anything else.  It's very unusual.  And it was only two bucks.  Other than that I can't come up with any reason.  So I really don't know why I bought it.  I just did. 
I truly do enjoy these little treasure hunts that have become a part of my usual activities, especially during the doldrums of winter.  And these things collected along the way are really not unnecessary objects.  They are all important and meaningful in their own unique way.  Except that camel. I still can't explain the camel.

      Roger O'Dea      1/22/2014

2014 - The Honest Truth

This will not be your typical Year In Review or New Year Resolutions essay.  I made a few resolutions last year, and actually kept the majority of them, even though it was mostly by accident rather than some well thought out plan of action.  My heart wasn't in it then and I'm not especially motivated this year, either.  I don't even have a bucket list.  I figure if there's something I really want to do I'll find a way to do it as soon as I can, without the added stress of death looming as a deadline.  So I'm not making any promises, pledges or commitments.  I will, however, offer up some expectations about what will happen in 2014. What qualifies me to express these things with high probability is nearly 60 years of living.  One gains a lot of insight and experience in that amount of time. 
1.   More and more people around the world will work harder and make extra effort to be helpful, positive, caring, tolerant and supportive of each other.  They will make things better for many others.
2.   Unfortunately, there will also be more fanatics and lunatics who don't tolerate any lifestyle or belief system that isn't the same as theirs.  They will cause big problems for many others.
3.   The two-party political system will suffer huge losses.  Too many people are fed up with this whole Democrat and Republican thing.  Independent and common sense candidates will experience big gains in popularity.
4.   Haters will hate.
5.   Lovers will love.
6.   More people will be willing to intervene and act if they see rude, mean or bad things happening.
7.   Unfortunately more people will act out in rude, mean or bad ways. 
8.   The internet, social media and technology will rage on.
9.   Young people will be smarter and more aware. (But, thankfully, kids will still be kids.)
10. The sun will rise and set.  Every day.  Wherever you are.

Now here are my predictions for...me.

I will go to work every day, and come home every night.  Except when I don't go to work.  Those days I will make every effort to find some new (or repeat a favorite) adventure.  I will make more art, take more pictures, and go a little deeper into the woods.  And spend more time cultivating friendships with some very awesome and amazing people who I happen to know.
This is how my year looks so far -

Pretty much a clean slate. It will be fun and interesting to see what develops, is framed, or put on canvas this year.  As, Mr. Petty put it, "the future is wide open."

Roger O'Dea     1/1/2014



What Happens in Vegas ...

What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.  Well, not really.  It usually ends up on You Tube, Facebook and other places on the internet.  In some cases it might even end up on a reality show.  Or in a blog, like this one.  I enjoy visiting Las Vegas.  We have fun.  This time was even better because we met up with our son, his friend and her family.  Awesome people.  And it was great spending time with them all.  It was also fun for the same reasons that it's always fun - the diversity, amazing entertainment options, incredible food, nice weather, unusual cultural experiences...there's even good art to be found.  One of the major hotels is featuring an exhibit called Warhol Out West, which we visited on our previous trip. Included are some of Andy Warhol's most famous original paintings and prints, as well as a very cool display of his Polaroid instant photographs.  Those of you who know me are familiar with my more than casual interest in film photography, and I was fascinated by Warhol's Polaroid portraits.  Attempting to put myself in that exact moment when a picture was taken is a stimulating exercise. That's what I do with art, my own or other's, try to make it interactive and personal.

I also try to find art in unusual places. Each time we visit I'm drawn to a location overlooking a particular section of Las Vegas Boulevard, better known as "the Strip." There's something about this view that appeals to me in a curious sort of way. 

The symmetry of the traffic. The glow of neon lights in various shapes on either side of the street. And what about the people in all the cars?  Where are they going to, or coming from?  My imagination races...until a familiar voice snaps me out of it with a "Come on! What are you looking at anyway?"  I usually don't try to explain due to the fact that I actually don't know what I'm looking at.  I guess I'm looking at...everything.   But I can never quite take it all in.  The scale confounds me.

This was the first time we've been there in December, so things seemed even more festive. Even the chorus girls were all decked out in a holiday theme.

And the decorations at the Bellagio Conservatory were incredible.

I think the main reason I enjoy traveling to Vegas has to do with the fact that it's such a treat for the senses. All of them.  Even feel.  Most days everything is warm, dry and crisp to the touch.  Nights are often cool and the air is fresh and a little sweet.  Then there is the sound of the casinos.  I won't deny that it is alluring.  The music is loud, the machines are bright, shiny and lit up like the Strip itself.  Add the frequent "WOOHOO!" or high fives at a card table close by and you've got the full effect.

It's funny how I like solitary places so much but still enjoy visiting a hot spot like Sin City where there is very little solitude.  What there is, however, is a lot of excitement and potential for what might happen.  Maybe it's that potential for a new adventure that keeps drawing me in.  In any case, I'll be back.  And maybe next time I'll bring back a story or two that may have stayed there in the past.  Because sometimes there's a story that is just too good not to tell. 

                                                                          -0-

Baby It's Cold Outside

It's 5:30 a.m. as I begin to write this.  The temperature is minus 4.  That's 79 degrees below my preferred number.  I've said this before - I don't like winter.  Never have.  The snow has it's benefits so I can tolerate that, in moderation.  But I especially don't like the coldness of winter.  And after my heart attacked me several years ago, very cold air actually makes it hard for me to breathe.  Doctors can't tell me why, but I never had a issue before so it must be related some how.  Shorter days are also a problem because I love the sun.  You've heard of Seasonal Affective Disorder.  Yeah, well, I have that.  I can manage it just fine, though.  Whenever I start feeling depressed I just think positive thoughts like, "only 7 months until May!"  That one's a bit of a stretch but, hey, I'm willing to settle for pretty much any positive thought on a dark morning in a December deep freeze.
Meditation helps.  I have discovered a source for guided meditations that are as short as 10 minutes, and can do wonders for whatever disorder or malady may be affecting you.  You should check it out. There are meditations for gratitude, nature attunement, grounding, breath and body awareness, enhancing creativity, even one for morning energy (that one comes in handy on occasion), and a dozen or so others.  Your guide is Mary Maddox, and she is awesome.  Check out her site at www.meditationoasis.com .   Also available as podcasts on iTunes. 
I can also find some respite in reviewing my photography files.  Or by forcing myself to go out and find a visually pleasing wintery scene. I will often be rewarded for the effort.  Even a reluctant resident of this frozen intermission between fall and spring can still occasionally find artistry in a desolate landscape.

Of course, I also have my books.  A great escape from the dreariness of these gray days can always be found within the pages of a good story.  It's funny how I have grown to prefer non-fiction and books about history during the warmer more truthful summer months, but by the time those insincere months of January and February roll around every year I find myself reaching for a classic novel by Vonnegut or Brautigan.  I can re-read these authors over and over and discover something new every time.  Lost Horizon by James Hilton never fails to reveal the promise that spring is not all that far away.
Then there is my record collection.  Nothing like a good classic album to lighten up an otherwise dark and cold night. Or day.  Music on vinyl is different than what you get with a cd or from an ipod.  It's a richer, deeper, more accurate sound.  It's real.  How can you listen to John Denver or Harry Nilsson (in any format) and not feel better? One of the smartest things I've done is hang on to so many albums from high school and my days as a radio disc jockey.  And the term was accurate back then because we actually played those wonderful round vinyl discs.

I'm still adding to my collection on a regular basis.  Right now I'm on the hunt for a clean reasonably priced copy of Astral Weeks by Van Morrison.  Finding it will go a long way toward the healing of my winter blues.  That might be a tall order, but if you hear of one let me know.  Think of yourself as my doctor and that's the prescription.  "Listen to this record and call me in the morning."

   -0-

Sunday Drive

It was one of those Sundays with no plans.  The possibilities were endless, as always, but there was nothing that absolutely needed to be done right now.  I cleared the driveway and sidewalk of snow from a light dusting the night before, replaced a burned out light bulb, read a few chapters from a book that I'm struggling to finish (it's pretty good, the subject just doesn't grab me), then turned on the TV and watched a bit of Naked Vegas.  If you're not familiar with this show, let me just tell you that it's not what you think.  In fact, I was not familiar with this show either but it caught my attention as I was flipping through the channels and sort of sucked me in.  I awoke from my television trance after about twenty minutes and was able to walk away.  Good thing, too, as I had a feeling this episode was not going to end well.  Then I surfed the web for a while, checking out a few of my favorite sites.  First stop was onbeing.org.  I was a little disappointed in some of the latest content, though.  I'm a big fan of Krista Tippett.  But I am not a blind follower of anybody and really don't care much at all for Whoopi Goldberg,  so when I saw her being featured I moved on.  My next stop was http://www.incrediblethings.com.  There's always something interesting here.  This time, under the Art & Design tab, there was a feature about how someone had taken historic photos and colorized them.  Big mistake.  I really didn't like any of them. The originals in black and white are exactly as they should be.  Colorization added nothing in my opinion.  Actually made them less interesting to me.  Take a look and see what you think:

The original

              Colorized

I can't see where adding color did anything at all for this picture.

Or, look at this iconic photo and tell me which version you think is more...well...real?

I don't know about you, but I have to go with the black and white. You can decide for yourself if you go to the site and take a look.  Lots of other things to see there, too.  I recommend it.

Okay.  Let's see. Where was I? Oh, yeah, a Sunday with no plans...but endless possibilities.  I watched football for a while, then decided to take a little drive and see if I could discover any photo opportunities.  I'm always looking for photo opportunities.  Lately, I've been wanting to find an old bus to photograph.  Not sure what the attraction is, I just thought an old broken down bus might be a cool subject.  Well, as fate would have it, about twelve miles into my trip I found myself near the little town of St. Onge.  I saw it almost immediately after pulling off the highway onto the dirt and gravel road (but mostly dirt) that served as the main street.  An old bus.  But not just any old bus.  It was a blue bus.  And green. But mostly blue.  

 I don't think it's the blue bus that the Doors sang about.  Or the one the Merry Pranksters named "Further" and had such strange and psychedelic adventures in way back then.  Or even the Magic Bus the Who sang about.  But, still, it's a pretty cool bus.  What happened next, though, really put an exclamation point on the day.  I was getting back into my car when all of sudden I heard music blasting out of the top floor windows in the old abandoned sandstone building I was parked next to.  Live music.  Like a band practicing.  Except, if this was practice, it was serious practice.  Because someone up there was belting out a song like it was the last day of the Fillmore and they were the headliner.  It was awesome!  And totally unexpected.  That's what made it so great.  I'm still not sure if it was a local band getting ready for their next gig or a few musicians getting together for a jam session.  Doesn't matter.  I was just glad I was in the right place at the right time.  That happens to me.  Being in the right place at the right time.  Maybe because I'm always willing and open to putting myself in the right place at the right time. Anyone can do it.  But it might take a little effort.  Sometimes as little as simply deciding to pick up your camera (everybody has one) and go for a Sunday drive.

      -0-