preservation

The Great Pyramid of Giza

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The Great Pyramid of Giza

It is said it was built before the wheel. When Moses was found in the bulrushes of the Nile, these pyramids were already 1,000 years old. The Great Pyramid (or Cheops Pyramid), tomb of Pharaoh Khufu, was built 2584–2561 BC and is the only one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World still standing. At 481 feet high, the Great Pyramid of Giza was the tallest man-made structure in the world for 3,800 years.

Also in the same 13-acre complex are two other great pyramids–Khufu’s son Khafre and grandson Menkaure, plus numerous smaller pyramids, and the Sphinx. They sit in Giza, on the outskirts of Cairo, west of the Nile, and at the eastern edge of the Sahara desert.

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At a distance, the Giza Pyramids. Cairo, Egypt
horse buggy giza great pyramid cairo egypt
From the bus window, a horse and buggy pass the Great Pyramid.
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A stray dog waiting for anyone in the Great Pyramid’s parking lot to acknowledge his hunger. Why do animals suffer so?

 

Gateways to the Afterlife

The tombs were built west of their civilization, nearer to the mysteries of the setting sun. People believed that the pyramids were gateways or staircases to the afterlife. And the dead kings and pharaohs had their tombs stocked with earthly things they might need in the next life. Of course, over these last 4,500 years, people have raided and stolen whatever was once there. Either that, or the dead did indeed take their stuff with them.

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Looking up at the Great Pyramid. People stand near the entrance. The building blocks are “as high as a dinner table” said Mark Twain. Yes, indeed.
stairs inside great pyramid giza cairo egypt
Inside the Great Pyramid. Hot, close, strangely humid amid all those stones. Up, up, up.

Click HERE to see a cross-section diagram of the inside of the Great Pyramid.

To see a diagram of how tall the Great Pyramid is compared to other travel icons, click here.

And for an interesting circa 1912 visual comparison of the Great Pyramid’s height to the length of the Titanic, click here.

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The Great Pyramid of Khufu in the foreground, and his son Khafre’s Pyramid behind. Khafre’s pyramid is 9 feet shorter, but sits on higher ground giving it the appearance of being bigger than his dad’s pyramid. It is the only one with some of its limestone casing still intact near the top.
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Bryan and Carol on the side of the Great Pyramid.
Near the corner of the Great Pyramid. All the hustle goes on up front where tourists enter.
tourist hijab pyramids
The three pyramids align precisely along their southeast corners. Despite centuries of speculations, calculations, and wonderment, no one knows to what they are aligned…could it be Orion’s Belt? the stars at equinox? the ancient city of Heliopolis? ruins in South America? the alien spaceship runway?

 

The Pyramids, the Camels and the Sahara

When I should have been admiring the ancient pyramids right in front of me, when I should have been marveling that I had just exited a 4,500-year-old tomb, I instead became obsessed with the circus of tourists, the camels eating lunch, and the endless horizon of the Sahara.

Stretching for another 2,700 miles west, the Sahara is the largest desert in the world. A world foreign and dangerous. How long until one saw nothing but sand and mirages in all directions, until a living being dehydrated like a raisin? The camels–who most certainly knew the answer–sat with their legs tucked under, munching on their greens.

camels eating giza pyramids cairo egypt
Camels break for lunch. The Sahara stretches for another 2,700 miles behind.
camel lunch sahara giza cairo egypt
A camel has lunch in the Sahara near Giza’s pyramids.

 

Please, please, don’t ride the camels

Sadly, the camels are there for the typical tourist photo opportunity. Repeatedly, big and small paid good money for fifteen-minute rides. I groaned to see the camels bellow when their knobby knees unfolded slowly with the burden of two large humans weighing them down. It made my knees hurt to watch.

Minutes later, I laughed when one camel got away from his keeper–don’t worry, he was riderless. He ran like a little kid around and around his kneeling herd of friends, making a giggle sound and eliciting excited giggles from his compadres. It was a game to him.

But not to the human boss-man herdmeister, who eventually grabbed the prankster’s reins. I yelled at the idiot man who used a stick to beat the camel’s front knee caps until he knelt down. What absolute assholes humans can be.

Please, please, don’t ride the camels. Yeah, I know…it’s income for the poor human. But seriously, why do obese tourists need to ride on a long-suffering camel who has had his knees beaten for horsing around? Makes me sick. Full disclosure, I rode a camel once, for a full day in Jordan’s Wadi Rum. Her name was Lulu and she was with her family. The bedouin scratched her ears and neck, cooed to her, and laughed at her 5-year-old antics. They loved her, I’m sure. Nevertheless, I’ll never ride an animal again. It’s beneath their dignity.

camels eating giza pyramids cairo egypt
Camels break for lunch. The Sahara stretches for another 2,700 miles behind.
camel lunch sahara giza cairo egypt
A camel has lunch in the Sahara near Giza’s pyramids.
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Ah, …to have been an early explorer.  Hills near the Pyramids. Giza, Cairo, Egypt.

 

Mark Twain and The Sphinx

The Sphinx was buried in sand up to her neck in the 1860s when Mark Twain met her and gushed in The Innocents Abroad:

“After years of waiting, it was before me at last. The great face was so sad, so earnest, so longing, so patient. There was a dignity not of earth in its mien, and in its countenance a benignity such as never anything human wore. It was stone, but it seemed sentient. If ever image of stone thought, it was thinking.

It was looking toward the verge of landscape, yet looking at nothing–nothing but distance and vacancy. It was looking over and beyond everything of the present and far into the past. It was gazing out over the ocean of Time…It was thinking of the wars of departed ages; of the empires it had seen created and destroyed; of the nations whose birth it had witnessed; whose progress it had watched, whose annihilation it had noted; of the joy and sorrow, the life and death, the grandeur and decay, of 5,000 slow revolving years…

It was MEMORY–RETROSPECTION–wrought into visible, tangible form.”

 

Lady or Lion?

Now, the Sphinx’s body and paws are uncovered, bolstered with new bricks, and she is cordoned off from touchy tourists. Surely, she is stunned by the silliness of human attention. Today, she gazes out at a sea of folding chairs positioned in neat rows for the nightly light show/concert. Far beneath her ancient dignity. Maybe she enjoys the concerts, the spotlights, the audience. Maybe she was lonely out there, relegated to watching Cairo from a distance–albeit a lessening distance as civilization creeps closer.

And yes, my dear Mr. Twain, I feel confident she is a she.

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“The Sphinx is grand in its loneliness; it is imposing in its magnitude; it is impressive in the mystery that hangs over its story. And there is that in the overshadowing majesty of this eternal figure of stone, with its accusing memory of the deeds of all ages, which reveals to one something of what he shall feel when he shall stand at last in the awful presence of God.” Mark Twain,1867.

 

Thank you for reading

If you’re interested, select photos are available for sale on Etsy.

Finally, if you liked this post and would like to stay in touch, please…

 

Carol Fletcher is a traveling, dog-loving, tree-hugging, coffee-addicted, Nashville born-and-raised photographer living in Chicago. To see more photo essays and projects, please visit www.carolfletcher.com.

Trees

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I love trees.

Cedars, oaks, redwoods, sequoias, catalpas, sycamores, pines, firs, poplars, aspens, birches, willows…I love them all…each and every one. Giant old trees and ambitious saplings. Trees planted in front of a front door, and those standing guard at corners or lining the roads like sentinels. I love to see forests growing wild in interstate medians.

Tree branches. Film double exposure.
Tree branches. Film double exposure.

 

Favorites.

I greet favorite characters along my route, marveling as bright leaves unfold in Spring, then color and drop in Autumn, and admiring the trees’ bones in Winter. I wonder what the neighborhood trees talk about high above our houses, chatting in the breeze.

Forests thrill and inspire me. The coastal redwoods are as close to heaven as I can imagine. Like museums or landmarks, trees and forests are on my wish list of places to see.

I’ve yet to see the Amazon rainforest. And it is increasingly likely I never will.

Missing trees.

The sound of a chainsaw makes me nervous and angry. The sight of branches and giant trunks split and piled high for the chipper makes me sick at my stomach. I imagine the pieces are still dying, the neighboring trees still whispering to the woodpile, saying goodbye.

Of course, I notice missing trees. Each time I pass, I remember and mourn the missing ones like friends, acknowledging the empty space in the ground, in the sky. I lost one this week. It’s a long story, for another time.

Big old neighborhood oak.
Ancient Bur Oak tree. There are four of these old oaks in one Chicago block. The trees were recently threatened by an elementary school expansion project. The neighborhood rallied to protect the trees. For now, they are safe. The annex builders did, however, destroy many younger trees in the easement in order to put up construction fences and to bring in heavy equipment.  

 

I’ve just started reading a book called “The Last Forest” by London and Kelly. I’m already sad. For someone who cried through “The Lorax” by Dr. Seuss and “Barkskins” by Proulx, this non-fiction book will be harder given the recent news of fires in the Amazon and Siberia. Already, I’m anxious.

Waste not, want not.

I wish to be part of a civilization that respects trees and the earth, that repurposes and reuses instead of wasting and throwing out the old in favor of “progress”. Resources are not infinite. Infinite growth of profit and population is not sustainable. We must stop. We must stop taking trees and forests from earth and the animals.

What will I do to save the world’s trees? Use less paper, buy products with less packaging, protect land when it is threatened by developers, and plant trees. What else can I do? What will you do?

The reddest of a red maple. Autumn leaves.
The reddest of a red maple. Autumn leaves.
The last of the canopy. Leaves.
The last of the canopy. Leaves.

 

Thank you for reading

Photos in this post were taken with a film point-and-shoot camera on a sad day in 2012. The trees brought me indescribable comfort that day, and really…always. Select photos are available on Etsy.

Finally, if you liked this post and would like to stay in touch, please…

 

Carol Fletcher is a traveling, tree-hugging, dog-loving, coffee-addicted, Nashville born-and-raised photographer living in Chicago. To see more photo essays and projects, please visit www.carolfletcher.com.

Lower Broad, Nashville

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Dawn on Lower Broad, Nashville

On a recent trip home to Nashville, we got up-and-out before dawn to cruise Nashville’s Lower Broad. I wanted to see the neon and what had become of my favorite old buildings along this four-block stretch that is the nation’s newest hotspot.

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Looking down Lower Broad. Nashville, Tennessee.
Lower Broadway honky tonk neon nashville TN
The lights of Lower Broad. Nashville, Tennessee.

 

Hub of Nashville

This stretch of Broadway, down by the Cumberland River docks, used to be all about the business of living. Throughout the 1800s, grand bank buildings, hardware stores, grocers, clothing shops, and warehouses went up on Broadway to serve the boomtown. Ornate churches, Union Station, and Hume-Fogg High School came up too. And in the Great Depression, Federal assistance programs built the Post Office. For many years, Broadway was a hub of Nashville.

Acme Feed Seed Nashville TN
Riverfront warehouse, built in the late1880s, home to Acme Feed & Seed. Nashville, Tennessee. 
Old American National Bank building facade. Lower Broad. Nashville, Tenn.
Originally six stories, the American National Bank building (built in 1883) was demolished down to the facade in the 1970s. For years it was the Broadway Boot Company with a similar neon sign. Now it is the entry facade to a bar. Lower Broad. Nashville, Tennessee.

 

Then came music

The Grand Ole Opry moved into the Ryman Auditorium in 1943. The country music radio shows still broadcast nationwide every Friday and Saturday on WSM 650. Lower Broadway filled with honky tonks. Tootsies Orchid Lounge harbored country music legends who’d just finished performing at the Ryman and slipped through the alley into the bar’s backdoor for a night cap. Record stores, boot companies, sequined clothing shops, poster printers, restaurants, and tourist trinket shops popped up in Lower Broad’s empty warehouses and shuttered bank buildings. Music-star wannabes wandered over from the Greyhound station with their guitars to busk and be discovered along the busy Lower Broad sidewalks.

Painted Lawrence Record Shop mural sign. Nashville, TN
Lawrence Record Shop sign. Nashville, Tennessee.
Tootsies Orchid Lounge lower Broad Nashville, TN
Tootsies Orchid Lounge. Nashville, Tennessee.

 

Demise:  Abandoned to “Urban Renewal”

In 1974, the Grand Ole Opry moved out of the Ryman and Lower Broad began her descent. A fight raged over whether to demolish the Ryman Auditorium. Adult bookstores, smoke shops, and liquor stores filled the growing number of abandoned buildings. Lower Broad became a dirty, dangerous place to be. I remember riding with my grandfather to pick up my aunt from work at the South Central Bell building around the corner on Second Avenue. The area was creepy, dark and cave-like between the big buildings. We’d wait with the doors locked and the windows barely cracked. I wish now that I’d asked him about his memories of the area and made some photographs. It’s just vague memories now.

In the 1990s, Lower Broad began to turn around. People began to recognize the value of the area’s history. Some buildings were saved. Many were not…destroyed in fires or “urban renewal” projects. Here’s hoping their pre-country-music neon histories are remembered.

Shelby Street Bridge over the Cumberland Nashville TN
My hometown. Shelby Street Bridge over the Cumberland and the Nashville, Tennessee skyline, 2019. 

 

Thank you for reading

Select photos are available on Etsy.

Finally, if you liked this post and would like to stay in touch, please…

 

Carol Fletcher is a traveling, dog-loving, coffee-addicted, Nashville born-and-raised photographer living in Chicago. To see more photo essays and projects, please visit www.carolfletcher.com.

Road Trip: Sequoia National Park

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November 20: Merced to Sequoia National Park. Starting mileage: 37,769.

We woke up early in Merced, ready for a few hours drive southeast through California to Sequoia National Park. Lucky us!  Yesterday, Yosemite and, today the Giant Sequoia trees!

You can tell a lot about a region by its signs:  “Pray for rain” on the side of a packed truck in a field, and “Water 500 ft. DO NOT DRINK. For radiators only,” along the dusty road. In this arid landscape, we saw rows and rows of fruit and nut trees:  oranges, pomegranates, peaches, avocados, grapes, almonds, and pistachios. Melt water from the nearby Sierra Nevada mountains is used to irrigate these thirsty plants, providing produce and jobs for many.

CA-180 sign near Fresno, with the Sierra Nevada foothills in the background.
CA-180 sign near Fresno, with the Sierra Nevada foothills in the background.
Coyote in a field. California's Sierra Nevada mountains.
Coyote in a field. California’s Sierra Nevada mountains.
Orange tree grove. Near Squaw Valley / Sanger, California.
Orange grove. Near Squaw Valley / Sanger, California. 

 

King’s Canyon and Sequoia National Park

Eventually, the road went up, up, up and the temperature went down, down, down. We lost about 10 degrees of warmth in +3,000 feet of elevation. And then, there they were! Giant Sequoias lined the road to greet us as we entered the nation’s second national park.

Mama Lucy at a viewpoint just inside Sequoia National Park, posing with the giant greeters.
Mama Lucy at a viewpoint just inside Sequoia National Park, posing with the giant greeters. The Sequoias became a national park just a couple of weeks before Yosemite, in the fall of 1890.

 

Giant Sequoias

The Sequoiadendron Giganteum is related to the Coastal Redwood (Sequoia Sempervirens), but the Giant Sequoias are generally shorter, fatter, and older than the Redwoods. They, like Redwoods, have tiny seed cones and are resistant to fire. But the Giant Sequoia trees benefit from fires that clear the undergrowth for sprouting. They grow in a much smaller region, getting water from the Sierra Nevada’s snow and rain. The Giant Sequoia trees are soft and brittle, often shattering when they fall. As a result, their wood is not as valued for construction…what should have been a saving grace.

Mama Lucy admires a giant Sequoia. Sequoia National Park, CA.
Mama Lucy admires a giant Sequoia. Sequoia National Park, CA.

 

Their grandeur alone should have saved them

Like the Redwoods, no words can really describe the Giant Sequoias–no adjectives are big enough, no sentiments are poetic enough. They are too big to photograph. To stand before them is to look at primordial beings, at least 2,000-3,000 years old. It’s too much to comprehend with logic alone.

Native Americans lived among the forests of Giant Sequoias for ages. Migrant Europeans first noted the giants in Calaveras Grove in 1833. Because it was not publicized, the trees escaped for another 20 years. But, around 1850-52, the trees were “discovered” by Augustus Dowd.

Despite their otherworldly beauty, ancient age, and being impractical for use, greedy settlers still chopped the old giants down in the 1800-1900s. Unbelievably, these majestic old souls were logged mainly for shingles, fence posts, and matchsticks. Even the “Discovery tree” found by Dowd was felled in 1853. One illustrated postcard from the period shows a cotillion of 32 people dancing on a massive stump, it’s severed trunk laying beside it. The lack of respect for these ancient trees is appalling.

The fate of trees and our national parks

Mama Lucy at General Sherman, the giant Sequoia that is the largest tree by mass in the world.
Mama Lucy at General Sherman, the giant Sequoia that is the largest tree by volume in the world. These giants are impossible to photograph in a way that shows their true scale.  

 

Any fool can destroy trees. They cannot run away; and if they could, they would still be destroyed, — chased and hunted down as long as fun or a dollar could be got out of their bark hides, branching horns, or magnificent bole backbones…. Through all the wonderful, eventful centuries since Christ’s time — and long before that — God has cared for these trees, saved them from drought, disease, avalanches, and a thousand straining, leveling tempests and floods; but he cannot save them from fools, — only Uncle Sam can do that.

John Muir, “The American Forests,” August 1897

 

Today, the trees are threatened by a warming environment, drought, and less mountain meltwater. And in 2017, Trump suggested he’d open some national lands to logging, grazing, drilling, and/or mining. Thankfully, better people prevailed–and the Sequoia National Park area was spared from a size reduction like Bears Ears (which lost 85% of its land) and Grand Staircase-Escalante (-46%).

A sign among Sugar Pines and Sequoias near General Sherman's grove in Sequoia National Park.
Sugar Pines and Sequoias near General Sherman’s grove in Sequoia National Park.
The triplet trees Three Graces Sequoia National Park.
The triplets, Three Graces, Sequoia National Park. For prints, please email me.
Moss grows on a neighboring Sugar Pine tree in Sequoia National Park.
Moss grows on a neighboring Sugar Pine tree in Sequoia National Park.

 

Wuksachi Lodge and the Bears

We splurged to stay at the remote Wuksachi Lodge in Sequoia National Park. We arrived too early for the very official check-in time, but sat cozy in front of the cast-iron wood-burning stove, mesmerized by the surrounding Sequoia and Pine woods. The staff warned us to take *everything* out of the car. Everything. Don’t leave jackets, which might have the smell of lotion or perfumes. Don’t leave hand sanitizers or chapsticks. Remove all trash, tissues, and papers. Don’t leave bottles, even if they are empty. Don’t leave coolers. And for goodness sake, don’t leave a morsel of food. Why? BEARS!

Bears have been known to break car windows for a water bottle, a mint, or a coat that maybe they think hides a tasty human. It took us an hour to unload, and tidy up the car. Sorry bears, nothing to see here. Of course, after dinner, when we walked back to the room from the lodge in the pitch-black night, I did worry that we were moving meal options. It made us walk a little faster!

November 21: Sequoia National Park

We explored the forests and wandered reverently around the giant tree groves. Sometimes, we’d just sit and take it all in…the fresh air of the mountains and these moments in the cathedral of the giants.

Looking up at Sequoia trees. Sequoia National Park.
Looking up at the Sequoias. These trees are not as tall as the Coastal Redwoods, but they are older and have more width and volume. It is said that as the Sequoias grow tall and stand above their neighbors, wind can often sheer off their tops. The topped trees will continue to grow in girth.
If you listen, you can hear the chipmunks. Sequoia National Park.
If you listen, you can hear the chipmunks. Sequoia National Park.

 

Bad behavior

In the evenings, we planted ourselves by the fireplace, tired from walking, and happy to be in such a peaceful place. One night as we waited for our reservation in the lodge restaurant, I read about the area’s logging history. I sat worrying about the greed that takes so many resources from the earth, and the selfish laziness that leaves so much trash. Why does nature always seem to lose?

And then, this terror of a kid shows up, apparently parentless. I watched as he nearly destroyed the child-size Teddy Bear that sat in the lobby. The brat pulled the bear into the floor, pummeling and punching it–poking at its eyes, yanking its ears, and flinging it around before leaping on it from a chair like a wrestler. A lamp nearly fell over in his screaming rambunctious fit. Where were his parents? Why allow this bad behavior in a public space, in a place others were relaxing? Is his tormenting aggression ok with them–even if he was only abusing a stuffed animal? Why allow him to destroy something, especially something that belongs to others?

I finally figured out his parents were the well-dressed couple sipping wine and staring intently at their respective iPads on a nearby sofa. Honestly, I doubt they would have noticed if the kid had been snatched. Then again, that kind of behavior must deter kidnappers. I mean, who’d want him?!? It is this kind of behavior, this lack of sensitivity and respect–his and theirs–that troubles me. Nature is losing–has lost, and will continue to lose–because of greed, selfishness, and the lack of empathy and kindness.

The lobby bear at Wuksachi Lodge in Sequoia National Park.
The lobby bear at Wuksachi Lodge in Sequoia National Park. 

 

Sunset

I couldn’t watch anymore. If this had been a real animal or a tree, I would have been in a brawl–with the kid and the parents. Instead, I walked outside to see the pink sunset. Good decision.

Pastels painted the eastern sky like a linen postcard, I stood in awe, in the quiet twilight. An older man came out to stand beside me, he with his camera too. We smiled at each other. No one else was outside. Silence. The wind shivered the trees. Creaking, crispy sounds. Pinks turned into fiery reds and oranges, and a crescent moon appeared over the tree silhouettes. It lasted only a few minutes, then the light was gone.

“Wow!” was all I could say.

“Splendid!” he added. “Glad I saw you making photos! I guess we’d better get back in to the three ring before the bears get us.”

Pastel sunset over Sequoia National Park.
Pastel sunset over Sequoia National Park.
A crescent moon among trees. Sequoia National Park.
Then, a crescent moon appeared among the trees. Sequoia National Park.
Pastels turn fiery just before dark. Sequoia National Park.
And then, pastels turn fiery just before dark, and the trees start melting into the sky. Sequoia National Park.

 

Learn more about Sequoia National Park. One of these days, I’d love to go on the Wuksachi Lodge snowshoe trip mentioned in this National Geographic article…just look at those photos and imagine those beauties in the snowy quiet! Sublime.

Some photos are for sale on my Etsy site. You can also contact me to purchase or license photos not found on Etsy.

Finally, if you like this post, please…
Thank you!

P.S. We never saw a bear in Sequoia National Park. I don’t know if I’m more sad or relieved. 🙂

Details and patterns

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Details make patterns.  Choices make habits.  Imagining makes art.  Believing makes seeing.

It’s been a while since I went out to wander and photograph just for the sake of wandering and photographing.  It felt good:  stretching my legs, stretching my imagination and shaking off this long strange summer.  This was the weekend at Open House Chicago 2016.

Sandstone held to a bell tower with metal band-aids and hair nets.  The bell tower survived the Great Fire in 1871, and still wears the blackened crown to prove it.  Saint James Episcopal Cathedral.

Six red galeros, hats of dead bishops, streaming from the ceiling of Holy Name Cathedral.  Hanging high behind the crucifix carved from one large piece of balsam wood, they wait for the day they collapse to dust and nothingness and return to the ground.

Ornate chandeliers are turned down low to let the stained glass windows tell their bible stories  in the 2nd floor chapel of Saint James Chapel at Archbishop Quigley Center.

Ivy climbs and clings to the detail on the Fourth Presbyterian Church on Michigan Avenue, in the morning shadow of the Hancock.  And in this church, at long last we get to go upstairs to the balcony…and there’s a pipe organ, gentle at first and then lighting up the guests with a loud pounce.

The 5th place was an art house in an old mansion.  Giant windows, rimmed in dark wood.  Pocket doors and white marble fireplaces in every room.  Studios for rent and live models seven days a week.  An open studio on the 3rd floor smelled of oil paint as I rounded the final set of stairs up.  The old floors were for dancing when this was a home and this level housed a ballroom. Now the wood floors showed wear from drops of paint as artists made their art.  At this moment, they were sans model, but they worked as if she were still there.  An imaginary model.  Cross breezes fluffed papers from the transom windows along the floor where the band used to sit.

The Monroe Building, with Rookwood tiles, and tiles, and tiles, and a working mail chute for the 14-story building.  This building and the one across the street, on the north side of Monroe at Michigan stand like sentinels, equal sized gate posts, greeting traffic entering Chicago on what used to be the main thoroughfare.

The chapel in the sky at the Chicago Temple.  The highest place of worship above street level.  Twenty two floors via elevator, then A through E floors via a cozy elevator, then 31 steps up to this tiny little Sky Chapel.  Stained glass windows line the room and limit views of the sky and the surrounding city.  The wood is ash, preserved forever from the Emerald Ash Borers that have killed so many trees in the Midwest.

Bell Tower details St. James Episcopal Cathedral
Sandstone held to a bell tower with metal band-aids and hair nets. The bell tower survived the Great Fire in 1871, and still wears the blackened crown to prove it. Saint James Episcopal Cathedral.
Holy Name Cathedral galeros
Six red galeros, hats of dead bishops, streaming from the ceiling of Holy Name Cathedral. Hanging high behind the crucifix carved from one large piece of balsam wood, they wait for the day they collapse to dust and nothingness and return to the ground.
Saint James Chapel at Archbishop Quigley Center stained glass windows
Ornate chandeliers are turned down low to let the stained glass windows tell their bible stories in the 2nd floor chapel of Saint James Chapel at Archbishop Quigley Center.

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Fourth Presbyterian Church ivy
Ivy climbs and clings to the detail on the Fourth Presbyterian Church on Michigan Avenue
Fourth Presbyterian Church Michigan Avenue
The pipe organ rings out at the Fourth Presbyterian Church on Michigan Avenue
Marble fireplace detail Palette & Chisel
Marble fireplace mantel detail from Palette & Chisel.

 

palette & chisel live model art studio
Palette & Chisel artists taking a break in the 3rd floor ballroom studio
palette and chisel chicago model art studio
Palette & Chisel: Imagination.
Monroe Building Chicago rook wood tiles
The Monroe Building, with Rookwood tiles, and tiles, and tiles. Muted earth tones in the foyer, just waiting to wow you when you go through those doors.
The Monroe Building Rookwood details make patterns
The Monroe Building, with Rookwood tiles, and tiles, and tiles.
The Chapel in the Sky Chicago Temple
The chapel in the sky at the Chicago Temple. The wood is ash, preserved forever from the Emerald Ash Borers that have killed so many trees in the Midwest.
Stenciling on ceiling of Chicago Temple
Chicago Temple ceiling stenciling.

Now and Then – Ravenswood Gardens, Chicago

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Fifteen brick structures mark the entrance to the streets of this 100+ year-old neighborhood near the river. These sentinels stand in pairs, trios or quartets along Rockwell between Montrose and the el tracks at Rockwell. Some have planters on top, others a concrete ball resembling a bed knob. They mark the streets of Ravenswood Gardens, a community planned in 1909 by William Harmon. Photographed on film with a Seagull and a Rolleicord.   Now and Then – Ravenswood Gardens, Chicago

Dormant and Waiting

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Have you ever been to an amusement park in winter…when it’s closed, quiet and waiting, and kind of creepy (but in that exhilarating, surreal kind of way)?

Except for missing out on the rides and the neon lights, I think this may have been the best way for me to first see Coney Island back in 2012.  I liked the emptiness of it…like I had it all to myself.  My friend Jill and I took our time walking through the park that day.  Soaked up all the carnival colors.  Studied the signs.  Played with the angles.

I thought of Coney Island as hibernating…dreaming about the coming summer’s smiling crowds, but also regrouping, getting fresh paint, tightening the bolts.  As I stay close to my Chicago radiators this winter, I’m passing through old photos, old memories and looking to the future.  I want to see Coney Island again when it’s awake, when it’s spring.  I want to ride the rides, shoot the neon, bump elbows with the crowds, and to see how the park survived Hurricane Sandy in October 2012.

So, rest up Coney Island.  I’m putting you on the list, again.  Coney Island, and also the Redwoods, and Cuba, and Ireland, and the Badlands, and New Orleans, and Nova Scotia, and Australia, and, and, and…

Arcade, ferris wheel, coney island, new york
The Wonder Wheel waits for summer at the Coney Island arcade
Coney Island, arcade, game, NY
Lauren’s seat at the Kentucky Derby, Coney Island arcade, NY
dime, toss, sign, game, Coney Island, NY
Dime Toss game sign at Coney Island, New York
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Toss a Dime, game signage at Coney Island, NY
Coney Island, roller coaster, lights, Cyclone
Detail of the Cyclone Roller coaster sign and lights.
roller coaster, cyclone, Coney Island, Amusement park
The Cyclone roller coaster at Coney Island, New York.
Hamburger boy
Hey Get It Get It! I’m supposed to want it more, once I see the sign…

To Travel is to Possess the World

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“To Travel is to Possess the World”

It’s a Burton Holmes quote, said about his Travelogues over 100 years ago.  How I ache to go when I look through his book of hand-tinted slides from another time, another place…his many Grand Tours of the world followed by “magic lantern” tours of tales.  It was a different world back then.