I was told by one of my patients that sometime in the mid-late 1990's, Duncan encountered a horrible flood. On the hill over looking the town apparently FEMA trailers were placed there as what was suppose to be temporary housing. Here it is 2010 and some of those trailers are still there and with occupants. I don’t think that they are the original occupants. All I know is that they are trashed and appear abandoned. However, every now and then I get a hint of someone living in one of them.
I placed, photographed and documented art piece #53 by the front steps of a trailer, with red peeling paint, that appeared abandoned. There wasn’t a trash can, flower pot, clothes line or any kind of debris around this particular trailer. Then I noticed a note taped on the door to the only entrance. It read, “8/12/2010 - Fed ex people - if you could please drop package at Crystal Mirror Beauty Salon at 308 Southeast Old West Highway - Please.
Thank You - Felipa.”
I’ve passed by this so-called “beauty salon” on my way to see patients. It appeared to have small windows - if any. The sign for the beauty shop is visible from the two lane highway but hand written. Never seen a vehicle parked outside or person enter or leave the shop. Is it a front for something else or an actual beauty salon? Granted, I’ve only driven by there and never stopped. It never looked opened when I have driven by. Why stop?
The note creeped me out. Was this all a front for other activity? Possibly illegal? I drove my car out of the driveway of the trailer, down a street that took me by the Crystal Mirror Beauty Salon and kept on driving in the direction of Safford. That was all there was to it, I just didn’t want to know. Wasn’t going to let my curiosity possibly bring any harm to this cat.
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Coronado Beauty Shop - Clifton, AZ - August 10. 2010
While driving down Park Avenue I noticed the cutest two story beauty shop up a hill.
I drove up it and parked my car under a tree. The building was abandoned. The front door was nailed shut. However, there was easy access to the inside of the building through one of the broken windows. Too much broken glass so I didn’t even consider going in. I wouldn’t of any way because the owner had the front door nailed shut. While doing this art project, I choose not to trespass where I wasn’t welcome. A door nailed shut was a message loud and clear enough for me - stay out.
I placed, photographed and documented #55 on an inside windowsill. It was easy to do since most of the window was gone. I could see old chairs, designed for styling hair, and equipped with built-in ash trays. Lots of mirrors on the walls - broken and otherwise.
An odd piece of equipment or two - however, I was unable to figure out what was the purpose they once served.
After I walked back to my car, I noticed a horse skull in the dirt next to one of the tires. It was caked with mud and had been there for some time. I searched the ground around the car, however, there were no more bones. It needed a home. Usually, I don’t make a practice of taking anything from the sites where my art pieces are placed. I respect each of the places and think it should be left undisturbed. However, I thought that this skull would come in handy in another art project.
It was wrapped up in a plastic tarp that I always carry around with me in the trunk of my car. The tarp was placed back in the trunk with the skull inside. I closed the trunk, got back into my car and headed back to the hospital in Safford.
I wondered how many women frequented this beauty shop back in the day. Did it move to a better location or just close down all together? Surely more than one beauty shop could serve the women of Clifton when this area was thriving because of the copper mine. Did they have separate beauty shops for women of color? Did a woman have to go to a particular beauty shop if she was Mexican, Native American or African-American?
The world of beauty - universal but separate. No matter, almost every woman and/or man is united by the desire to look like the advertised glamourous images on the sleek, glossy pages of a magazine. Most of us would love to look - picture perfect and nicely packaged which will hopefully make us - happy?
I drove up it and parked my car under a tree. The building was abandoned. The front door was nailed shut. However, there was easy access to the inside of the building through one of the broken windows. Too much broken glass so I didn’t even consider going in. I wouldn’t of any way because the owner had the front door nailed shut. While doing this art project, I choose not to trespass where I wasn’t welcome. A door nailed shut was a message loud and clear enough for me - stay out.
I placed, photographed and documented #55 on an inside windowsill. It was easy to do since most of the window was gone. I could see old chairs, designed for styling hair, and equipped with built-in ash trays. Lots of mirrors on the walls - broken and otherwise.
An odd piece of equipment or two - however, I was unable to figure out what was the purpose they once served.
After I walked back to my car, I noticed a horse skull in the dirt next to one of the tires. It was caked with mud and had been there for some time. I searched the ground around the car, however, there were no more bones. It needed a home. Usually, I don’t make a practice of taking anything from the sites where my art pieces are placed. I respect each of the places and think it should be left undisturbed. However, I thought that this skull would come in handy in another art project.
It was wrapped up in a plastic tarp that I always carry around with me in the trunk of my car. The tarp was placed back in the trunk with the skull inside. I closed the trunk, got back into my car and headed back to the hospital in Safford.
I wondered how many women frequented this beauty shop back in the day. Did it move to a better location or just close down all together? Surely more than one beauty shop could serve the women of Clifton when this area was thriving because of the copper mine. Did they have separate beauty shops for women of color? Did a woman have to go to a particular beauty shop if she was Mexican, Native American or African-American?
The world of beauty - universal but separate. No matter, almost every woman and/or man is united by the desire to look like the advertised glamourous images on the sleek, glossy pages of a magazine. Most of us would love to look - picture perfect and nicely packaged which will hopefully make us - happy?
Stone's Throw from the Phelps Dodge Mining Shovel - August 10, 2010
When I stepped back a few feet, I noticed this cute little, tan, brick house, with the window( shaded by an aluminum awning) and door broken out along with a tin roof - over my right shoulder. There was no address on it but I figured out that the address must be in the high 40's by what I could determine by the other houses nearby. The abode was on the corner of a row of abandoned houses. The corner of the house had a big hole and looked as if a car met with it head on. In the back of the house was a partial, rusty, metal swing set.
Upon getting a closer view of the house, a waft of a musty smell came through the door and window. I looked inside and it was filled up to the ceiling in trash consisting of bricks, mortar, drywall, furniture and other household items. Yeah, there was the odd beer can or food wrapper. But the destroyed furniture seemed to take up most of the space.
I gingerly placed, photographed and documented #56 on a pile of wooden boards just inside of the doorway.
After I stepped back, I wondered about the families who once lived in this row of houses.
They were all quite small so I assumed these families were poor. This street was nothing like Park Avenue in New York city. Never will be.
Upon getting a closer view of the house, a waft of a musty smell came through the door and window. I looked inside and it was filled up to the ceiling in trash consisting of bricks, mortar, drywall, furniture and other household items. Yeah, there was the odd beer can or food wrapper. But the destroyed furniture seemed to take up most of the space.
I gingerly placed, photographed and documented #56 on a pile of wooden boards just inside of the doorway.
After I stepped back, I wondered about the families who once lived in this row of houses.
They were all quite small so I assumed these families were poor. This street was nothing like Park Avenue in New York city. Never will be.
Phelps Dodge mining shovel - Park Avenue - Clifton, AZ August 10, 2010
On Park Avenue, Phelps Dodge Mining Company retired one its large, mechanical shovels. It removed 68,483,849 tons of material from the Morenci pit between January 20th, 1958 and February 11th ,1980. Once the shovel retired, it took a 4 year period to move and restore it. Here it sat. Waiting for me.
I placed, photographed and document #54 on top of one it’s huge wide treads. On the metal plaque nearby it displayed the names of dozens of men who had taken part in this restoration project. I thought how remarkable it would be if one of their relatives, that lived in the area, came across Cowboy and Indian Icon Art piece #54. Hopefully, it won’t be a kid who didn’t happen notice my email address on the bottom of the rock. A kid who found it handy when the urge came upon them to hurl it through the air at one of our many ring-tailed doves. Just like kids do who are bored on a hot summer day and one of Mother Nature’s creatures just happens to present them with the opportunity to let their energy flow into the rock, from their hand, casting its path towards feathers flying through space.
Hopefully the rock just falls to the ground. Leaving the bird to rest on the branch of a large tree and in the coolness of its leaves.
I placed, photographed and document #54 on top of one it’s huge wide treads. On the metal plaque nearby it displayed the names of dozens of men who had taken part in this restoration project. I thought how remarkable it would be if one of their relatives, that lived in the area, came across Cowboy and Indian Icon Art piece #54. Hopefully, it won’t be a kid who didn’t happen notice my email address on the bottom of the rock. A kid who found it handy when the urge came upon them to hurl it through the air at one of our many ring-tailed doves. Just like kids do who are bored on a hot summer day and one of Mother Nature’s creatures just happens to present them with the opportunity to let their energy flow into the rock, from their hand, casting its path towards feathers flying through space.
Hopefully the rock just falls to the ground. Leaving the bird to rest on the branch of a large tree and in the coolness of its leaves.
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Greenlee Employment & Training Program Building - Clifton, AZ - August 9, 2010
It’s been many years since this boarded up building - a former dry goods store - was ever used to train anyone. This building is next door to the Rode Inn - the only motel in this area. Originally, I wanted to leave a Cowboy and Indian icon found art piece #50 at the Rode Inn because I found the name of the motel, “Rode Inn,” charming. However, there are too many contractors, associated with the copper mine - in and out of there - for me to place, photograph and document #50 unnoticed.
I tucked #50 in the front and in a corner of Greenlee Employment and Training Program building.
Uneventfully, I ceremonially did what I needed to do and was out of there. Got into my car and turned my front wheels towards the ribbon of hot asphalt, which snaked through the desert, and began my journey home to a meal of sliced watermelon and cherry popsicles for dessert.
I tucked #50 in the front and in a corner of Greenlee Employment and Training Program building.
Uneventfully, I ceremonially did what I needed to do and was out of there. Got into my car and turned my front wheels towards the ribbon of hot asphalt, which snaked through the desert, and began my journey home to a meal of sliced watermelon and cherry popsicles for dessert.
Monday, August 23, 2010
5755 Highway 70 - August 9, 2010
On my way to Duncan, Clifton or Morenci, I always pass this white house with red painted windowsills in the front. No matter what time of day or night, there was always an early model Mercedes Benz parked in a carport - attached to the house. After many trips to Greenlee county, I noticed there wasn’t a trash container to be seen or any other car for that matter. Finally, I pulled into the driveway, parked with the engine and air- conditioning (refrigeration, as the term is known out here) running.
As walked closer to the house, I noticed that the Mercedes Benz had a flat tire. Through the main window of the house- facing the road - I could see that the house was sparsely furnished with not a thing decorating the walls. It was clear that no one was living here.
I placed #51 on a red cement windowsill on the side of the house. It was photographed and documented in its new home.
I am very happy to note that #8 - placed, photographed and documented in the beginning of September, 2009 - was still resting on its original, cement windowsill at 6010 Highway 191 as I drove by it this morning on my way to Clifton. Almost a year had gone by since it took residence at that home.
Nothing had changed and it still stayed the same. Only now my little Cowboy and Indian Icon Found Art piece is almost a year older. Happy Birthday! Long live the art project.
As walked closer to the house, I noticed that the Mercedes Benz had a flat tire. Through the main window of the house- facing the road - I could see that the house was sparsely furnished with not a thing decorating the walls. It was clear that no one was living here.
I placed #51 on a red cement windowsill on the side of the house. It was photographed and documented in its new home.
I am very happy to note that #8 - placed, photographed and documented in the beginning of September, 2009 - was still resting on its original, cement windowsill at 6010 Highway 191 as I drove by it this morning on my way to Clifton. Almost a year had gone by since it took residence at that home.
Nothing had changed and it still stayed the same. Only now my little Cowboy and Indian Icon Found Art piece is almost a year older. Happy Birthday! Long live the art project.
Monday, August 16, 2010
Texaco building - Frisco Avenue - Clifton, Az - August 9, 2010
The patient’s home was located on a small road that was on the side of a cliff. The directions I received on how to get there read, “Across from the RV Park baseball diamond - old Winebago style camper at the top of the road on the left. Patient’s home is behind the house in the front. You will have to walk back up to it and up the stairs.”
Believe it or not, I actually found the patient’s home. I guess I’ve gotten use to figuring out directions to some “never, never land.”
His son greeted me at the door. He made some small talk about the big horn sheep he had seen that morning on the side of the cliff . While his father/the patient slept, he reminisced with me about his father’s life as a miner. He told that when his father was young, in the mining town of Morenci, white people and people of color lived in segregated sections of Morenci. The son added that his father didn’t realize he lived in a segregated society until he went to school. He said that his Hispanic father just accepted his life for what it was and enjoyed the cultural richness of his African and Native American neighbors.
After my visit, I had to drive over some railroad tracks in order to get on the highway back to the hospital. Near the railroad tracks was an abandoned building with “Texaco” written across the front in large letters. It didn’t have any gas pumps so it wasn’t a former filling station. However, to the side of the building were silo shapes that might have held fuel for train engines.
Got out of my car and left the air-conditioning on. I placed, photographed and documented cowboy and indian icon art piece #51 there. Quickly, I got into the car, out of the sun and drove away. The merciless afternoon sun beat down through my car’s front windshield. However, I was distracted away from its intensity as my thoughts drifted between imagining the sight of lumbering big horn sheep eating grass in the cool, early hours of the morning and young children of color, from long ago, playing stick ball on a dusty, dirt road. Their zest exuberant - undaunted by any of the day’s weather.
Believe it or not, I actually found the patient’s home. I guess I’ve gotten use to figuring out directions to some “never, never land.”
His son greeted me at the door. He made some small talk about the big horn sheep he had seen that morning on the side of the cliff . While his father/the patient slept, he reminisced with me about his father’s life as a miner. He told that when his father was young, in the mining town of Morenci, white people and people of color lived in segregated sections of Morenci. The son added that his father didn’t realize he lived in a segregated society until he went to school. He said that his Hispanic father just accepted his life for what it was and enjoyed the cultural richness of his African and Native American neighbors.
After my visit, I had to drive over some railroad tracks in order to get on the highway back to the hospital. Near the railroad tracks was an abandoned building with “Texaco” written across the front in large letters. It didn’t have any gas pumps so it wasn’t a former filling station. However, to the side of the building were silo shapes that might have held fuel for train engines.
Got out of my car and left the air-conditioning on. I placed, photographed and documented cowboy and indian icon art piece #51 there. Quickly, I got into the car, out of the sun and drove away. The merciless afternoon sun beat down through my car’s front windshield. However, I was distracted away from its intensity as my thoughts drifted between imagining the sight of lumbering big horn sheep eating grass in the cool, early hours of the morning and young children of color, from long ago, playing stick ball on a dusty, dirt road. Their zest exuberant - undaunted by any of the day’s weather.
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