Wandering: Aborted

I recently RSVPed that I would like to attend an event hosted by the New York Public Library (for which registration was required). The event was for an author who wrote a biography of Dorthea Lange, a Depression-era photographer mostly known for her famous picture (series of pictures, really), Migrant Mother.

I saw these photgraphs years ago at the Philadelphia Museum of Art.  Since then, I've been aware of references to Dorthea Lange in various media.  I think there's controversy around the pictures - speculation they were posed, Lange took advantage of the subjects, etc.  I was hoping to learn more about Lange and these pictures this past Thursday but I couldn't make it.  I was asked to move a interview from 3/15 to Friday.  This meant leaving New York Thursday night.

So, I still have questions about Lange and the pictures. I guess I'll have to do some research on my own to answer my questions.  With just a cursory search, I learned that the woman in the picture above was named Florence Owens Thompson.  I was stunned to learn she was only 32 years old when the picture was taken.

The picture was taken in February or March 1936 in Nipomo, California. Lange said the following related related to this series of pictures,

I saw and approached the hungry and desperate mother, as if drawn by a magnet. I do not remember how I explained my presence or my camera to her, but I do remember she asked me no questions. I made five exposures, working closer and closer from the same direction. I did not ask her name or her history. She told me her age, that she was thirty-two. She said that they had been living on frozen vegetables from the surrounding fields, and birds that the children killed. She had just sold the tires from her car to buy food. There she sat in that lean- to tent with her children huddled around her, and seemed to know that my pictures might help her, and so she helped me. There was a sort of equality about it.

            From: Popular Photography, Feb. 1960

The publisher website of this new Dorthea Lange biography (Dorthea Lange: A Life Beyond Limits by Linda Gordon), states

Lange reminds us that beauty can be found in unlikely places, and that to respond to injustice, we must first simply learn how to see it.

This quotation, and the pictures, really speak to me.  In a very convoluted way, they contribute to my misgivings about the job for which I interviewed.  I know that might not make much sense, but it makes a world of sense to me.  I am fully aware, however, that I have the luxury of having these misgivings - a luxury that Florence Owens Thompson never had.

Home

Oh, well I'm going home,

Back to the place where I belong,
And where your love has always been enough for me.

I'm not running from.

No, I think you got me all wrong.

I don't regret this life I chose for me.

But these places and these faces are getting old.

I said these places and these faces are getting old,

So I'm going home.

I'm going home.

Home by Daughtry

Sometimes one's wanderings end at home.  I resigned today.  Soon I won't be 1 of 8 million people who live in New York City.  I'll miss it; I'm sure.  I'm so grateful I got to do it for a year.  I'm going home...

Ridley Creek State Park

With all the snow we had, and as broke as Pennsylvania is (as are many states), I'm surprised the Park System would take the time and expense to plow a 4.3 mile trail and the access road to it.  I'm thankful they did.  As temperatures approached the high 40's and the sun (that is what that big, warm yellow ball in the sky is, right?) was finally out, it was wonderful to get outside yesterday.  Definitely needed the Vitamin D and got plenty of it.

There were so many people at the park.  There was also a palpable feeling of hope - "winter is ending and warmer days are coming".  I think the last time I felt that so viscerally was way back in high school when I left the gym after a long basketball season and got to get out on the softball field.  It was still chilly and got dark early, but my senses knew Spring was coming.  Back then, and now, that feeling makes me smile - just a little on my lips but a lot inside.  (One of these days I'll stretch my very limited haiku skills and write a haiku about that feeling!)

I wonder if people who move from a four-season climate to a more moderate climate miss that feeling?  I'm going to enjoy it - as I am tonight with my window cracked ever so slightly - until Spring is here.  So what that we may have snow this weekend?  I know it won't be possible much longer; my senses tell me that.

Snow

Philadelphia has officially gotten more snow than any winter since record keeping of these things began.  We officially topped the last "most year" of 1967.  One big storm fell on the weekend, so I was able to help clean up.  The other one fell during the week so I could only imagine what the cleanup must have been like.  I can see evidence of the storm now that I'm back - evergreens are bent over, heavy with snow. The roads are extremely narrow.  I wondered about the squirrels.  I hope they don't bury their nuts in the ground but, instead, keep them high up in their tree nests.

The first storm that dumped 30 inches on us didn't hit New York City.  This second storm did.  It was amazing, however, to wake up in NYC and - from my 20th floor perch - wonder, "Where is all the snow?"  There was plenty of snow on the roofs of the smaller buildings.  But where was the snow on the streets and sidewalks? 

My first NYC snowstorm and I was baffled.  I was told by co-workers that there are so many steam pipes under the streets and sidewalks that it helps prevent snow accumulation.  I also noticed while walking to work that morning that even dustings of snow were being shoveled by business owners.  So, I guess between the (mostly) conscientious (and probably lawsuit adverse) business owners and the steam pipes, snow in NYC was a  non-event.

While my friends were hunkered down in Philadelphia, I wandered the streets of New York for a long time.  It was cold, but as if all of that snow I saw fall from the sky the night before was a dream.

Getting back from NYC to Philadelphia Friday night was not a dream.  A 3.5 hour bus ride (impossible traffic, not weather-related) and then the trains in Philly were extremely delayed.  At 8:10pm, I heard an announcement in Philadelphia's 30th Street Station that the 6:45pm train was just arriving.  Not what I wanted to hear.  I was exhausted by that point as I had left my NYC apartment at 3:30 for the bus.

I decided to take the subway to a location where I could catch the trolley to my house.  Thank goodness that was running.  I walked in my door around 9pm.  Ugh.

And we're getting more snow on Monday, my travel day back to NYC...

The Saints Came Marching In

From the 'Aints and the paper bag-headed fans to the 2010 Super Bowl Champs.  Great game.  I'm glad they won.

The game reminded me of my last trip to New Orleans in January, 2007.  The Philadelphia Eagles were playing the Saints on January 13th.  (The Eagles lost.)  The flight down from Philly was fun.  Filled with lots of fans going to the game.  Probably the rowdiest flight I had ever been on.  Maybe the actual plane got people excited, too.

The Saints fans were so nice. Nothing like how Eagles fans treat fans from opposing teams.  I met someone at Snooks' Bar on Bourbon Street who literally gave me the t-shirt off her back.  (She was wearing two.)  I still have that Snooks' New Orleans t-shirt.

I stayed in the Cornstalk Hotel on Royal Street in the French Quarter.  I always admired this hotel's facade on previous trips so was happy to get to stay.  I was, however, disappointed with the accommodations.  I remember it smelled musty/mildewy.  Guess those New Orleans summers didn't help in an old building like that.

The purpose of the trip was not just some R&R and fun, but also to understand what I was hearing in the media about the state of New Orleans almost 1.5 years after Katrina.  What I saw not only corroborated those stories,  it was also sad, sickening, angering.  It made me really "get" that the government won't always be the answer in times of disaster.  Even corporations seemingly shirked responsibility.  For example, I saw an ADT truck partially resting (up-ended) on the roof of a house in the Lower 9th ward.  What?!  A year and a half later?  Why did that company think this was acceptable?

  Is it still there?

There were so many abandoned houses - even in the "upscale" communities.  It was hard for me to imagine the despair that leads people to simply walk away from home.  Peering into the homes, it was easy to see black mold everywhere.  My heart broke for those people.  I hope the Saints victory brought back some fond memories of their former lives in the Big Easy.

Arcosanti at Cordes Junction, AZ and Cosanti in Scottsdale, AZ

I woke up with a sore throat last Sunday, the day I wanted to visit Arcosanti.  I momentarily thought about not going but I'm glad I went.

Arcosanti is the baby of now 90-year-old architect Paolo Soleri.  Paolo completed a fellowship under Frank Lloyd Wright and fully embraced the concept of organic architecture.  He also had an affinity for working in nothing but a white Speedo, which I saw video clips of during my visit.  (Apparently this didn't play out well with Mrs. Wright, who was running Taliesin West after Frank died.) 

Before Frank Lloyd Wright's death, he and Paolo had a falling out - according to my tour guide at Arcosanti.  The tour guide said it was because of Frank's ego and Mrs. Wright complaining to her husband about Paolo's attire - or lack thereof.  (Paolo was tan and fit in the Speedo pictures I saw.  Still, trunks would've been a better option in my opinion!)

Arcosanti is based on an intriguing concept.  I agree with Paolo that our urban sprawl (of which Phoenix is a prime example!) makes us waste endless hours behind the wheel - often at a standstill - and isolates us from our neighbors and community centers.  (Many of the houses in Phoenix are in developments where everyone's backyard is surrounded by a stucco or block wall.  My friend who lives there has no idea who her neighbors are.)  His idea is to create dense space for living (although everyone has privacy), working, playing, and meeting.  This enhances the sense of community and preserves open space for all to enjoy.  It also promotes health as people walk to movies, shopping, work, etc.

It is possible to spend the night at Arcosanti, or longer.  My tour guide has lived/worked there for 1.5 years.  When I saw tricycles around and asked where the children are schooled, I expected to hear they were homeschooled.  They are not.  They actually attend school about 8 miles away.  (Someone from Arcosanti has to get them down to the end of the 2 mile lane, though.)

Arcosanti is funded by tours (where there is a suggested $10 donation) and the "world famous" Soleri bells.  These bells - either bronze or ceramic - are beautifully artful.  I wanted to buy one but wondered how my neighbors (and I, for that matter!) would feel about hearing deep bell/wind chime sounds day and night.  The bells varied greatly in price range - from $40 to thousands.  I wound up buying a small (maybe 2 by 4 inches) piece of decorative bronze.

This is a picture of the foundry.

I took a little hike after the tour and was treated to not only a great view of the property, but my first enounter with a javelina.  (I think this one was a baby.)  I wasn't sure what to do so we stared at each other a bit and left each other alone.


After a vegetarian lunch at Arcosanti, I decided to explore Cosanti back in Scottsdale.  It was about a 1.5 hour drive.  Cosanti is where Soleri lives with this family.  It is in a lovely, upscale residential area.  It is also another opportunity to buy bells.  Once again, I refrained....but certainly thought about it again.

Visitors are free to roam the property.  There are signs at various locations, however, that ask visitors to not proceed so as to respect the privacy of the residents.  It was an opportunity to spend some more time in the wonderful weather, peek into the foundry, and marvel at the unique architecture.  Another day well spent!

Stalking Frank...

Frank Lloyd Wright (FLW) also designed this church in Phoenix. (I visited this after the Taliesin West visit and then lunch in Scottsdale.)

The next day, I was driving around Scottsdale again and came across this on Frank Lloyd Wright Boulevard. It screams "FLW" and, since it is on the Blvd with his name, I assume it's designed by Frank.  (Not a bad picture considering it was taken while having to accelerate at a just-turned-green light!)

Taliesin West: Scottsdale, AZ

The great American architect Frank Lloyd Wright (FLW) had two studios/schools - one in Spring Green, WI and the other in Scottsdale, AZ. These properties are known as Taliesin and Taliesin West, respectively.

I took the long tour at the Spring Green property a few years ago so was anxious to take a similar, 3-hour "Insider's Tour" of Taliesin West. It was worth the visit.

My friend and I were lucky enough to hear a presentation by an 89-year-old man who worked with FLW.  He obviously was fond of Wright and his mission.  He didn't mention anything related to what I knew about Wright from reading about him - that he was a complicated and controversial man.  (The stereotype of genius?)

Wright believed in organic architecture. According to Wikipedia,

Organic architecture is a philosophy of architecture which promotes harmony between human habitation and the natural world through design approaches so sympathetic and well integrated with its site that buildings, furnishings, and surroundings become part of a unified, interrelated composition. Architects Gustav Stickley, Antoni Gaudi, Louis Sullivan, Frank Lloyd Wright, John Lautner, Claude Bragdon, Bruce Goff, Rudolf Steiner, Bruno Zevi, Hundertwasser, Imre Makovecz and most recently Anton Alberts, Nari Gandhi and Laurie Baker are all famous for their work with organic architecture.

Both Taliesins blend with their surroundings in such a way that I do see them as interrelated pieces in a painting.

Oatman, AZ

A few weeks before I headed to Vegas I told a friend that I was driving from Vegas to Phoenix. He told me to stop in Oatman, AZ. He gave me a brief overview - old gold mining town, wild burros roaming the streets (presumably left behind when the miners left), old hotel where you can eat and where there are thousands of dollar bills taped to every surface, etc.

I looked online and learned a little more about Oatman, including the fact the gold mines had re-opened because of the current high price of gold.  It certainly seemed like a good diversion for a long drive.

Lacking a GPS, I went the old-school route and printed MapQuest directions from Las Vegas to Oatman via Laughlin, NV because I wanted to avoid the Hoover Dam security lines (apparently started after 9/11) and construction.

The directions included:

• Merge onto US-93 S/US-95
• Merge onto US-95 S toward Searchlight/Laughlin/Needles
• Turn left onto NV-163-E (crossing into Arizona)
• NV-163 E becomes Hwy 163
• Hwy 163 becomes Bullhead Pkwy
• Turn left onto Silver Creek Rd/ CR-155 (Portions unpaved)

Notice how the last direction indicates portions unpaved? Portions seemingly indicates "part," right? How about the whole 10.7 miles to Oatman?!?! I guess I should have been suspect when I saw this sign.  Notice it's riddled with buckshot.  Nice.

Or maybe the "Flash Flood" warning signs should have been a clue to stop?  (At that sign, I looked up at the sky and concluded a flash flood was unlikely on a sunny, cloud-free day.) 

I also did some quick mental calculations...

OK, it's only around 70 degrees - not that hot.  And I have water.  Worse case scenario, even if I break down in the middle, I only have to walk out about 5.5 miles, and there's plenty of daylight left.  But what about any crazies I encounter?  I could go missing without a trace. 

Against my better judgement, I drove the whole way to Oatman...at about 20 miles an hour.  This is what the view was like from the wheel when the road was good (i.e. not too sandy).

And then I saw the Thumper Memorial.  The Thumper I know is a rabbit from Disney.  Assuming maybe this Thumper was a horse?

Needless to say, I was more than relieved when I rolled into Oatman just a little dusty but otherwise intact.

It didn't take long to see the burros.

A window seat at the fine Oatman Hotel for a late lunch was the opportunity to either count dollar bills or watch the burros.

Oatman was definitely worth the drive and visit.  But it was around 4pm and still a 3.5 hour drive to Phoenix through the desert so time to head out of Oatman on the historic Rt 66.