Welcome folks to the Hacienda Motel and Apartments. What’s left of them.
Except for the main office, the aging temporary housing was now protected by a chain link fence. What attracted me to this building was the kitschy cacti painted all over the outside walls.
I placed, documented and photographed art piece #83 on the inside windowsill of an already broken out pane of glass. All the plastic cowboy and indian on the art piece needed now were straw sombreros. Ole!
Saturday, February 26, 2011
842 4th Street, Thatcher, AZ January 21, 2011
After visiting patients in Pima, I took one of my short cuts back to the hospital through Thatcher. If I’m a sucker for exploring abandoned houses, I’m even more of a sucker for an abandoned airstream trailers. The house on 4th Street wasn’t only abandoned but it had an abandoned streamlined trailer painted turquoise and white. The silver body of the airstream showed through the spots of chipped paint.
I parked my car on the street and walked to the back of the property where the airstream stood. Then I realized that no one had been to the airstream lately since mine were the only footprints in the sand. The door to the airstream still functionally opened and closed. After I opened the door, the essence of the 1950's surrounded me. Most of the drapes had been torn or deteriorated away from the windows. What was left were stained drapes with a large leafy pattern of green, rose and yellow colors. All I could think about at that point was how cool it would’ve been to have a piece of clothing fashioned out of the fabric of those drapes. I wanted to wear the drapes some how.
When one walks into this mobile vehicle, the first piece of furniture that grabs one’s attention is a falling apart, large wooden stereo console with an undisturbed turntable.
All I could imagine was how this once may have been a traveling party abode. All that was missing was the shaker and martini glasses. I placed, documented and photographed #81 on the stereo console.
That night on my way home from work, I stopped in to one of the few clothing stores in town. Wouldn’t you know, there was a jacket made in the style, fabric and pattern a la 1950's. It was in my size! Definitely a sign not to take any rotten drapes down from the placement sight of a cowboy and indian icon art piece because something better is around the corner. Not only better but fresh and new a la 2000's - never out of style.
I parked my car on the street and walked to the back of the property where the airstream stood. Then I realized that no one had been to the airstream lately since mine were the only footprints in the sand. The door to the airstream still functionally opened and closed. After I opened the door, the essence of the 1950's surrounded me. Most of the drapes had been torn or deteriorated away from the windows. What was left were stained drapes with a large leafy pattern of green, rose and yellow colors. All I could think about at that point was how cool it would’ve been to have a piece of clothing fashioned out of the fabric of those drapes. I wanted to wear the drapes some how.
When one walks into this mobile vehicle, the first piece of furniture that grabs one’s attention is a falling apart, large wooden stereo console with an undisturbed turntable.
All I could imagine was how this once may have been a traveling party abode. All that was missing was the shaker and martini glasses. I placed, documented and photographed #81 on the stereo console.
That night on my way home from work, I stopped in to one of the few clothing stores in town. Wouldn’t you know, there was a jacket made in the style, fabric and pattern a la 1950's. It was in my size! Definitely a sign not to take any rotten drapes down from the placement sight of a cowboy and indian icon art piece because something better is around the corner. Not only better but fresh and new a la 2000's - never out of style.
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
Maud's Restaurant Clifton, AZ January 11, 2011
I remember as a kid my father would take the family to a drive-in restaurant as a special treat. One could either eat their burger in the car or outside at a type of picnic table. That fond memory attracted me to Maud’s.
The restaurant hasn’t been open at least for the past year from what I could see. There are no parking spaces one could pull their vehicle into for service. A patron would walk up to the service window to put in, pay and receive their order. No waitresses or waiters. Very limited seating inside with the main seating outside at picnic tables made out of a grayish hard plastic with black metal legs and supports.
Even if this restaurant was open, this past week wasn’t one for dining outside. On occasion, we receive snow here in southeastern AZ. There wasn’t any around where I live except on top of Mt. Graham. There was, here, in Greenlee county. Thankfully, it doesn’t stay on the ground for days like it does in my home state of Michigan. Usually a day here at the most. All I can say is desert plants are tough. No matter how snow laden the cacti or agave gets - they thaw out and continue to thrive like the rest of us. The Prickly Pear cactus around my house usually only meets its demise at the jaws of wandering jack rabbits.
Speaking of eating. . . I placed, documented and photographed art piece #78 on the sill of the window where one would place and pick-up their food order.
"That’ll be one green chile burro for Mr. Cowboy and a bean burro with cheese for Mr. Indian, please." Since neither of them are actual living creatures and just plastic figures integrated into an art piece - I doubt they’ll ever mind if a soul never returns to reopen the restaurant. Art, agave and cacti endure.
The restaurant hasn’t been open at least for the past year from what I could see. There are no parking spaces one could pull their vehicle into for service. A patron would walk up to the service window to put in, pay and receive their order. No waitresses or waiters. Very limited seating inside with the main seating outside at picnic tables made out of a grayish hard plastic with black metal legs and supports.
Even if this restaurant was open, this past week wasn’t one for dining outside. On occasion, we receive snow here in southeastern AZ. There wasn’t any around where I live except on top of Mt. Graham. There was, here, in Greenlee county. Thankfully, it doesn’t stay on the ground for days like it does in my home state of Michigan. Usually a day here at the most. All I can say is desert plants are tough. No matter how snow laden the cacti or agave gets - they thaw out and continue to thrive like the rest of us. The Prickly Pear cactus around my house usually only meets its demise at the jaws of wandering jack rabbits.
Speaking of eating. . . I placed, documented and photographed art piece #78 on the sill of the window where one would place and pick-up their food order.
"That’ll be one green chile burro for Mr. Cowboy and a bean burro with cheese for Mr. Indian, please." Since neither of them are actual living creatures and just plastic figures integrated into an art piece - I doubt they’ll ever mind if a soul never returns to reopen the restaurant. Art, agave and cacti endure.
Clifton Social Club Clifton, AZ January 11, 2011
The Clifton Social Club is not located in a very social place. By that it I mean the street it is located on, Chase Creek. That street is so narrow that barely two cars can pass one another. Parking a car on that street is a no-no unless one can squeeze into a space across the street from Sacred Heart Catholic Church.
Back in the late 1800's - early 1900's, Chase Creek was the center of activity in Clifton.
Mexican laborers, who worked in the copper mine, built homes on Chase Creek because the land was cheap and the smelter was located at one end of the street. A smelter is used to fuse or melt ore so the metal can be separated from it. Living on Chase Creek made the walk to work quick and easy.
I asked around but couldn’t find when the Clifton Social Club had its origins on Chase Creek. Could it have been in 1905, after Judge McCalister reinstated the law that mandated that no houses of ill repute could be located within one hundred feet of the highway? Might have the Clifton Social Club replace some other establishments of socialization?
I placed, photographed and documented art piece #77 in the corner of the doorway at the Clifton Social Club. The main door was secured by a heavy, large link, chain and lock.
It wasn’t until I got back to Safford that I learned that the Clifton Social Club was still rented out for social functions. In fact, a party was planned in there for Super Bowl Sunday. Thinking about it, maybe art piece #77 will be brought inside for the super bowl festivities? Will that be a beer or soda for you Mr. Cowboy and for you Mr. Indian?
Back in the late 1800's - early 1900's, Chase Creek was the center of activity in Clifton.
Mexican laborers, who worked in the copper mine, built homes on Chase Creek because the land was cheap and the smelter was located at one end of the street. A smelter is used to fuse or melt ore so the metal can be separated from it. Living on Chase Creek made the walk to work quick and easy.
I asked around but couldn’t find when the Clifton Social Club had its origins on Chase Creek. Could it have been in 1905, after Judge McCalister reinstated the law that mandated that no houses of ill repute could be located within one hundred feet of the highway? Might have the Clifton Social Club replace some other establishments of socialization?
I placed, photographed and documented art piece #77 in the corner of the doorway at the Clifton Social Club. The main door was secured by a heavy, large link, chain and lock.
It wasn’t until I got back to Safford that I learned that the Clifton Social Club was still rented out for social functions. In fact, a party was planned in there for Super Bowl Sunday. Thinking about it, maybe art piece #77 will be brought inside for the super bowl festivities? Will that be a beer or soda for you Mr. Cowboy and for you Mr. Indian?
Saturday, January 29, 2011
1622 14th Avenue Safford, AZ January 11, 2011
The city of Safford has an older established community of site-built houses that surround the hospital, a few dentists’ and doctors’ clinics. A few blocks from the hospital is a wooden house, barn and a few sheds that are half standing and are slowly continuing to crumble. This beat up farm house and its buddies, which include a pick-up truck, are quite the eye sore amongst the beautiful, modern brick houses with their surrounding simple, meticulous landscaping. I remember when I drove down this street in 2006 and assumed that this neighborhood monstorousity was to be torn down. Its still here and calling my name.
I placed, photographed and documented #79 on the edge of a cement feed trough, in the only stall, of what was left of the barn still standing. There was some old horse manure in the stall, of course. However, in a stainless steel wire basket were what appeared to be the folded, fairly clean clothes of a very small child. Not far from the basket of clothes was a cherry red, dirty, brocade, polyester sofa cushion. That was it. It looked more to me like these items were from the former occupant and not one of a squatter.
Later on in the day I asked someone who worked at the hospital and use to live on that street - the story of the old farm house. He has some ideas but wasn’t really sure though. The man appeared to care less about its existence.
All I could think about as I drove home that evening was the basket of neatly folded children’s clothes left in the stall. Some little boy or girl either out grew their clothes and got all new ones or went without any at all because of their forgetful parent. Hopefully the former instead of the later.
I placed, photographed and documented #79 on the edge of a cement feed trough, in the only stall, of what was left of the barn still standing. There was some old horse manure in the stall, of course. However, in a stainless steel wire basket were what appeared to be the folded, fairly clean clothes of a very small child. Not far from the basket of clothes was a cherry red, dirty, brocade, polyester sofa cushion. That was it. It looked more to me like these items were from the former occupant and not one of a squatter.
Later on in the day I asked someone who worked at the hospital and use to live on that street - the story of the old farm house. He has some ideas but wasn’t really sure though. The man appeared to care less about its existence.
All I could think about as I drove home that evening was the basket of neatly folded children’s clothes left in the stall. Some little boy or girl either out grew their clothes and got all new ones or went without any at all because of their forgetful parent. Hopefully the former instead of the later.
3339 Highway 191 Safford, AZ Jaunuary 3, 2011
A woman once told me that her boyfriend made her and her four young children live in the horrible, deteriorating abode at this address. When I first moved to Graham County in March, 2006 - I was employed as a psychotherapist at the only community mental health outpatient clinic in the county. The former occupant was one of my therapy clients.
I knew that no one was living there now by the accumulation of huge, dead tumbleweeds around the house. I placed, photographed and documented #75 on an outside windowsill of the home which was no easy feat because of the tumbleweeds. They may’ve have been dead but they were still prickly and impossible to avoid. The one reassurance I had about the placement was the time of the year. It was January and the odds were high that I wouldn’t encounter a snoozing rattlesnake amongst the dead fauna.
Part of the bottom left corner of door was missing. As if someone, at some time, tried to kick it in. Friend or foe? My guess -the friend, who was a lover, became a foe. No fairy tale ending for this love story. Just a reminder of lost hope.
I knew that no one was living there now by the accumulation of huge, dead tumbleweeds around the house. I placed, photographed and documented #75 on an outside windowsill of the home which was no easy feat because of the tumbleweeds. They may’ve have been dead but they were still prickly and impossible to avoid. The one reassurance I had about the placement was the time of the year. It was January and the odds were high that I wouldn’t encounter a snoozing rattlesnake amongst the dead fauna.
Part of the bottom left corner of door was missing. As if someone, at some time, tried to kick it in. Friend or foe? My guess -the friend, who was a lover, became a foe. No fairy tale ending for this love story. Just a reminder of lost hope.
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Highway 80, AZ - December 7, 2010
It was fun having a "Thelma" with me when I was placing, photographing and documenting cowboy and indian icon art pieces. Usually, the only other "witness" to the process of this art project is my blog. I so enjoyed her enthusiasm towards the artistic process. It transcended the essence of the art project from creative task to adventure.
Yee Haw!
Francesca was a bit apprehensive about the next location I had chosen for placement.
The sun was now starting to set. Driving down the highway back to the ranch were long stretches of nothing much. On one of these stretches, an abandoned sea green building - the size and shape of a cabin - beckoned me to stop.
Now I’ve been exploring rural SE AZ for almost 3 ½ years. My only fears about entering an abandoned structure are falling through a spot on a rotting floor, loose shingles or boards descending from the sky or Mother Nature - a snoozing poisonous spider, snake, scorpion or other startled animal of the four legged variety. Frankie, coming from a more industrial location in Great Britain, envisioned a wigged out homeless person attacking me while she watched on from the front seat of my car.
I own a permit to carry a concealed weapon. It not unusual for folks out here to travel with a gun in their vehicle as their second amendment right and fear of being left in a vulnerable situation out in no man’s land. I had my .22 Ruger hand gun with me - holstered. Frankie expressed having peace of mind. However, this wasn’t a western movie and I had no intention of firing the gun unless a coiled rattlesnake was ready to strike.
It turned out that the abode did not harbor any rattlesnakes or irrate vagabonds. There were quite a few books, stored in cardboard boxes, instead. I placed, photographed and documented #70 on an inside windowsill. It was difficult to photograph the cowboy and indian icon art piece from the outside. Francesca helped me out. She got out of the car, walked up to the windowsill and pointed straight to it for the photograph. Artistic mission accomplished with no casualties! We both laughed.
We were able to get back to Grapevine Ranch Canyon before the sun had completely set.
On the way to the mess hall and the company of other equine enthusiasts at supper, we drove by cowboy and indian icon art piece # 31, undisturbed. That one was placed at Grapevine Canyon Ranch on 4/12/10 - also without incident or casualty!
Long ago, there could’ve of been an incident when the artistic excursion could’ve met with foul consequences. This particular area has quite the history of Apache unrest. But for tonight our artistic adventure was just another story to tell around the supper table between mouthfuls of tender chicken, crunchy corn off the cob, tossed salad, buttery mashed potatoes and homemade cheesecake for dessert.
Yee Haw!
Francesca was a bit apprehensive about the next location I had chosen for placement.
The sun was now starting to set. Driving down the highway back to the ranch were long stretches of nothing much. On one of these stretches, an abandoned sea green building - the size and shape of a cabin - beckoned me to stop.
Now I’ve been exploring rural SE AZ for almost 3 ½ years. My only fears about entering an abandoned structure are falling through a spot on a rotting floor, loose shingles or boards descending from the sky or Mother Nature - a snoozing poisonous spider, snake, scorpion or other startled animal of the four legged variety. Frankie, coming from a more industrial location in Great Britain, envisioned a wigged out homeless person attacking me while she watched on from the front seat of my car.
I own a permit to carry a concealed weapon. It not unusual for folks out here to travel with a gun in their vehicle as their second amendment right and fear of being left in a vulnerable situation out in no man’s land. I had my .22 Ruger hand gun with me - holstered. Frankie expressed having peace of mind. However, this wasn’t a western movie and I had no intention of firing the gun unless a coiled rattlesnake was ready to strike.
It turned out that the abode did not harbor any rattlesnakes or irrate vagabonds. There were quite a few books, stored in cardboard boxes, instead. I placed, photographed and documented #70 on an inside windowsill. It was difficult to photograph the cowboy and indian icon art piece from the outside. Francesca helped me out. She got out of the car, walked up to the windowsill and pointed straight to it for the photograph. Artistic mission accomplished with no casualties! We both laughed.
We were able to get back to Grapevine Ranch Canyon before the sun had completely set.
On the way to the mess hall and the company of other equine enthusiasts at supper, we drove by cowboy and indian icon art piece # 31, undisturbed. That one was placed at Grapevine Canyon Ranch on 4/12/10 - also without incident or casualty!
Long ago, there could’ve of been an incident when the artistic excursion could’ve met with foul consequences. This particular area has quite the history of Apache unrest. But for tonight our artistic adventure was just another story to tell around the supper table between mouthfuls of tender chicken, crunchy corn off the cob, tossed salad, buttery mashed potatoes and homemade cheesecake for dessert.
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