Not too far from the Glenbar Cotton Gin and the Taylor Freeze (Home of the big "T" burger) is a helicopter sitting in solitude next to the railroad tracks. On my travels to and from Globe, Phoenix and numerous patients’ homes, I noticed that the flying machine has never been moved for at least 3 years. I stopped and parked my car near the railroad tracks. It didn’t have any sort of doors and the weather had taken its toll on the helicopter’s interior. After I wallowed through tall weeds, I placed, photographed and documented #68 what one could call the chopper’s dashboard.
Old West art and aviation - an interesting mix. As I drove away, something inside (growling stomach) harkened me to the Taylor Freeze. Well, one couldn’t drive back to Safford without a Big T burger. Can one?
Sunday, January 2, 2011
Corner of McDowell Road & Ward Canyon Road - Clifton, AZ November 10, 2010
It was very windy but the sun shown as bright as a new copper penny. I placed, photographed and documented #62 right below a YIELD sign at the corner of 2 crossroads. The patient I was visiting was in a elevated "subdivision" in Greenlee county- very scenic and desolete. From where could stood, I could see the mauve shadings in the rock at the cooper mine. The muted colors of stone were the contoured plateaus left after all the copper and minerals were removed, processed and shipped all over the world. Thus leaving a huge man-made sculpture which will never host any living flora or fauna again.
One person, driving by in early model Ford van, saw that I was out of my vehicle exploring the area dressed in a skirt, blouse, cowboy boots and my white lab coat. He automatically assumed that my transportation was completely incapacitated. I reassured him otherwise. Just grateful that he was a friendly type and not some loner living alone in the hills because he has strong disdain for other human beings and harbors dreadful, harmful thoughts towards all others - especially conceptual artists who also happen to work in the medical field. What I won’t risk for my patients ---- and art!
One person, driving by in early model Ford van, saw that I was out of my vehicle exploring the area dressed in a skirt, blouse, cowboy boots and my white lab coat. He automatically assumed that my transportation was completely incapacitated. I reassured him otherwise. Just grateful that he was a friendly type and not some loner living alone in the hills because he has strong disdain for other human beings and harbors dreadful, harmful thoughts towards all others - especially conceptual artists who also happen to work in the medical field. What I won’t risk for my patients ---- and art!
Sunday, November 21, 2010
Historical Marker - Highway 70 October 26, 2010
This is the time of the year that huge rolling tumble weeds become road kill. My car hurls towards the tan skeletons of the plants crossing the road and BAM. Shreds of their existence fly into the wind. I’ve heard this is the time of year that some people collect, spray paint and shape them into festive trees for the upcoming December holidays. Save a pine tree, harvest a tumble weed.
Placed, documented and photographed #63 on a historical marker which sign read, "In 1846, General Kearney’s ARMY OF THE WEST guided by Kit Carson followed the Gila River from New Mexico to the occupation of California in the Mexican War. Thus opening the southern snowfree route to the Pacific Coast."
Placed, documented and photographed #63 on a historical marker which sign read, "In 1846, General Kearney’s ARMY OF THE WEST guided by Kit Carson followed the Gila River from New Mexico to the occupation of California in the Mexican War. Thus opening the southern snowfree route to the Pacific Coast."
Sunday, November 14, 2010
City of Safford/Graham County Library - October 26, 2010
One of the nice features around this type of year is that some of the leaves that fall from my eucalyptus tree - get crunchy. When one picks up a dried eucalyptus and crunches it up between their fingers - a wonderful pungent smell is emitted. The gift of cooler days and nights in the desert.
It’s been awhile since I’ve done anything with the Cowboy and Indian Found Art Project. On October 1, 2010, my first horse, Princess Lulu, had to be put down due to her cancerous tumor in her eye. Then the other horse, who shared the corral with Lulu and was her adopted mother, Lady Latte called out for companion all that weekend - day and night. Since that day, I feel as if a train as run right through my heart. My healing process has been impacted by my hospice work. Loss, death, grief, are all around me, each and every day.
Princess Lulu may have been the first horse I’ve owned, however, she wasn’t my favorite.
She stealthily taught my other horses how to get into the dog and chicken feed. When it came to administering minor first aid, applying on bug repellent or giving her apple flavored worm paste - she would run circles around the corral. That horse would do anything and everything to avoid me. My impressionable young filly, Lady Latte, started to imitate Princess Lulu’s behavior. I hired a professional horse trainer to "undo" all Lady’s unwanted behavior. Going solo on the trail, quail - a bird she was quite familiar with in the corral or on the property - freaked her out. She acted as if they were flying Pterodactyl dinosaurs coming just for her.
However, her strongest asset shined around other horses and riders. Princess Lulu, wearing no horse shoes, was fearless and sure-footed. I felt completely safe when I rode her up Mt. Graham on the tiniest, rocky trail. That horse was fearless.
Another feature of this time of year is when the ofrendas (altars) are put up and decorated in the City of Safford/Graham County Library in tribute of the Hispanic holiday, Dia de los Muertos (Day of the Dead). It’s during this time period that people from our community put photos of their deceased loved ones, calaveras (colorfully decorated iced sugar skulls), Pan de Muerto (specially baked bread), flowers and candles on the altars.
Papel Picado (colorful Mexican paper cuttings) hang in swags above the altars.
Along with the photos of my grandmothers, grandpa and uncle was a photo of Lulu and I.
It was a photo that was taken when she and I delivered some baked goods to one of our hospice patients. This man’s last request was to spend some time with a horse before he died. We obliged. The man died later on that day. He got his wish.
I decided to put place, photograph and document art piece #64 on one of the altars. After the altars come down, I’ll discreetly place #64 outside of the library. Yeah, the cowboys and indians of long ago are dead and so is Princess Lulu. Just pleasant memories just like the smell of eucalyptus leaves on my skin.
It’s been awhile since I’ve done anything with the Cowboy and Indian Found Art Project. On October 1, 2010, my first horse, Princess Lulu, had to be put down due to her cancerous tumor in her eye. Then the other horse, who shared the corral with Lulu and was her adopted mother, Lady Latte called out for companion all that weekend - day and night. Since that day, I feel as if a train as run right through my heart. My healing process has been impacted by my hospice work. Loss, death, grief, are all around me, each and every day.
Princess Lulu may have been the first horse I’ve owned, however, she wasn’t my favorite.
She stealthily taught my other horses how to get into the dog and chicken feed. When it came to administering minor first aid, applying on bug repellent or giving her apple flavored worm paste - she would run circles around the corral. That horse would do anything and everything to avoid me. My impressionable young filly, Lady Latte, started to imitate Princess Lulu’s behavior. I hired a professional horse trainer to "undo" all Lady’s unwanted behavior. Going solo on the trail, quail - a bird she was quite familiar with in the corral or on the property - freaked her out. She acted as if they were flying Pterodactyl dinosaurs coming just for her.
However, her strongest asset shined around other horses and riders. Princess Lulu, wearing no horse shoes, was fearless and sure-footed. I felt completely safe when I rode her up Mt. Graham on the tiniest, rocky trail. That horse was fearless.
Another feature of this time of year is when the ofrendas (altars) are put up and decorated in the City of Safford/Graham County Library in tribute of the Hispanic holiday, Dia de los Muertos (Day of the Dead). It’s during this time period that people from our community put photos of their deceased loved ones, calaveras (colorfully decorated iced sugar skulls), Pan de Muerto (specially baked bread), flowers and candles on the altars.
Papel Picado (colorful Mexican paper cuttings) hang in swags above the altars.
Along with the photos of my grandmothers, grandpa and uncle was a photo of Lulu and I.
It was a photo that was taken when she and I delivered some baked goods to one of our hospice patients. This man’s last request was to spend some time with a horse before he died. We obliged. The man died later on that day. He got his wish.
I decided to put place, photograph and document art piece #64 on one of the altars. After the altars come down, I’ll discreetly place #64 outside of the library. Yeah, the cowboys and indians of long ago are dead and so is Princess Lulu. Just pleasant memories just like the smell of eucalyptus leaves on my skin.
Thursday, October 21, 2010
The Greenlee County Country Club - York, AZ September 29. 2010
Got lost on my way to patient’s home - which isn’t unusual. I drove into the parking lot of an aging white building with a swamp cooler and vast manicured lawns. Yes, this was the local golf course. Not a golfer in sight though. This was not any rural golf course. It was the local "country club." If I hadn’t read it on the sign at the entrance, there is no way I would’ve imagined that this was a country club.
Where I come from in Michigan, country clubs have paved or asphalt parking lots - not dirt and gravel. Many, many years ago I dined at the Grosse Pointe Country Club in Michigan. The staff, mainly male, wore white dress shirts with a simple tie and black trousers. Their socks and shined shoes were, of course, black. The tables were donned in ivory table cloths and napkins. On the table were simple fresh flower arrangements.
No linen table cloths at the Greenlee County Country Club. When I walked into the main dining room to ask someone for directions - a young woman, dressed in blue jeans and a tank top was busy behind the bar. She shouted out a greeting across the room and inquired how she could help. I walked up to the bar, got my directions, thanked her with a smile and left.
I stood on the front patio and looked around. No flower or shrub beds of any type. The cement patio had a few plastic webbed chairs that could’ve been from Walmart in Safford. Between the chairs was a white bucket that had a few cigarette butts at the bottom of it. A half a dozen empty beer bottles, stood like soldiers, next to the chairs. I even noticed a few empty beer bottles scattered under the odd bush.
I decided to place one of the cowboy and indian icon art pieces here. I walked back to my car and got it, my notebook and camera. Instead of putting it some where right next to the clubhouse, I placed, photographed and documented #65 in a small tree across the road from the clubhouse. Much like me, it was as if the art piece was a voyeur at the clubhouse. Strange to this environment, it would now be witness to the club members’ comings and goings. However, I drove away - a voyeur no more.
Where I come from in Michigan, country clubs have paved or asphalt parking lots - not dirt and gravel. Many, many years ago I dined at the Grosse Pointe Country Club in Michigan. The staff, mainly male, wore white dress shirts with a simple tie and black trousers. Their socks and shined shoes were, of course, black. The tables were donned in ivory table cloths and napkins. On the table were simple fresh flower arrangements.
No linen table cloths at the Greenlee County Country Club. When I walked into the main dining room to ask someone for directions - a young woman, dressed in blue jeans and a tank top was busy behind the bar. She shouted out a greeting across the room and inquired how she could help. I walked up to the bar, got my directions, thanked her with a smile and left.
I stood on the front patio and looked around. No flower or shrub beds of any type. The cement patio had a few plastic webbed chairs that could’ve been from Walmart in Safford. Between the chairs was a white bucket that had a few cigarette butts at the bottom of it. A half a dozen empty beer bottles, stood like soldiers, next to the chairs. I even noticed a few empty beer bottles scattered under the odd bush.
I decided to place one of the cowboy and indian icon art pieces here. I walked back to my car and got it, my notebook and camera. Instead of putting it some where right next to the clubhouse, I placed, photographed and documented #65 in a small tree across the road from the clubhouse. Much like me, it was as if the art piece was a voyeur at the clubhouse. Strange to this environment, it would now be witness to the club members’ comings and goings. However, I drove away - a voyeur no more.
Saturday, October 16, 2010
City of Safford Victim/Witness Building - Safford, AZ September 27, 2010
I discreetly placed, photographed and documented cowboy and indian icon art piece #66 right under the corner of bush before anyone arrived for the annual candle light vigil for the National Day of Remembrance for Murder Victims and their survivors. Life size, plywood silhouettes - painted black - of men, women and children were erected all around the front of the building for the occasion.
At first, I wasn’t sure if placing one of the art pieces here wasn’t too cliche. Yep, Native Americans and cowboy brethren were indeed murdering one another due to underlining fear, anger, greed, jealousy and revenge. Probably these were the same reasons why the deceased, who would be honored here tonight, met their untimely death.
However, the past memories of "cowboy and indian" violent acts would be the story lines that fuel the imagination of cinematic adventure narratives and innocent childhood enactments for decades to come.
For today, the cowboy and indian art piece, even though hidden, would be part of the other objects left here in tribute of senseless loss. A tribute that is never a thrill to be part of.
At first, I wasn’t sure if placing one of the art pieces here wasn’t too cliche. Yep, Native Americans and cowboy brethren were indeed murdering one another due to underlining fear, anger, greed, jealousy and revenge. Probably these were the same reasons why the deceased, who would be honored here tonight, met their untimely death.
However, the past memories of "cowboy and indian" violent acts would be the story lines that fuel the imagination of cinematic adventure narratives and innocent childhood enactments for decades to come.
For today, the cowboy and indian art piece, even though hidden, would be part of the other objects left here in tribute of senseless loss. A tribute that is never a thrill to be part of.
Saturday, October 2, 2010
The OutPost - Greenlee County, AZ September 14, 2010
I just purchased off of ebay a "Dunny - Kidrobot" toy. This 3" vinyl toy figure has three points of articulation: a 360 degree rotational head and two arms. An artist card or sticker is also included with the toy. There was a particular Dunny was designed by Michelle Valigura is named "Cowboy/Indian." One half of the figure is a cowboy joined down the middle to the other half which is Native American. Both halves are frowning. The cowboy half comes with a separate gun that the figure can hold in its hand and the Native American half comes with a tomahawk.
This inspired me today since I had just picked it up from the Safford Post Office prior to driving to Duncan.. This correlated with my cowboy and indian icon theme and was contemporary which I liked.
While driving down AZ 75, I came across a mom & pop store with a sign that read, "The OutPost - Beer - Wine - Picnic Supplies" a few feet from the road. Underneath that sign was a two-sided plastic, three foot Coca-Cola sign that had the capacity to be able to be lit up. The lower right hand corner had a piece broken out of it the size of a fist. Why not place cowboy and indian icon art piece #59 within another icon?
I tried to be as discreet as possible since customers were coming and going from The OutPost about 40 feet away. One guy, all dressed in black, with greased back shoulder length hair, got out of a black, four-door, battered early model Lincoln Continental. He was all dressed in black with a 45 caliber gun holstered on his belt. The man resembled a sinister-type who could have been a character in the David Lynch movie, "Wild at Heart." An elderly lady with curly, gray hair and glasses remained sitting in the front seat of the car. Was it his mother perhaps? He graciously left the car and the air-conditioning on for her while he went into the store.
I decided to place, document and photograph #59 inside of the broken corner of the Coca-Cola sign and get away from that store. What if he was going into the store to rob it instead of making a mundane purchase like a pack of gum or a bag of pork rinds? What if he saw me with the camera and assumed I might be spying on him? Either way, I wasn’t going to find out. Got back into my car and drove off before he ever left the store. Byeeee!
This inspired me today since I had just picked it up from the Safford Post Office prior to driving to Duncan.. This correlated with my cowboy and indian icon theme and was contemporary which I liked.
While driving down AZ 75, I came across a mom & pop store with a sign that read, "The OutPost - Beer - Wine - Picnic Supplies" a few feet from the road. Underneath that sign was a two-sided plastic, three foot Coca-Cola sign that had the capacity to be able to be lit up. The lower right hand corner had a piece broken out of it the size of a fist. Why not place cowboy and indian icon art piece #59 within another icon?
I tried to be as discreet as possible since customers were coming and going from The OutPost about 40 feet away. One guy, all dressed in black, with greased back shoulder length hair, got out of a black, four-door, battered early model Lincoln Continental. He was all dressed in black with a 45 caliber gun holstered on his belt. The man resembled a sinister-type who could have been a character in the David Lynch movie, "Wild at Heart." An elderly lady with curly, gray hair and glasses remained sitting in the front seat of the car. Was it his mother perhaps? He graciously left the car and the air-conditioning on for her while he went into the store.
I decided to place, document and photograph #59 inside of the broken corner of the Coca-Cola sign and get away from that store. What if he was going into the store to rob it instead of making a mundane purchase like a pack of gum or a bag of pork rinds? What if he saw me with the camera and assumed I might be spying on him? Either way, I wasn’t going to find out. Got back into my car and drove off before he ever left the store. Byeeee!
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