Communal spoon.
Trash in context
Good light. I remember when you were not allowed to take shopping carts off of the stores property. If you needed to do that, you had to leave a piece of ID at the office which was returned to you on return of the cart. Those were the good old days. No feral shopping carts laying around. Nobody stole a shopping cart.
Smell the glove
Fog started to roll in
When I am in Marina park, a crow is never far away.
Interesting light.
The sun was there but it was defused.
About as foggy as it got
The Pool 6 tent is gone but it looks like someone is still occupying the site. Maybe they setup in the evening and leave in the morning before anyone shows up. The mosquitoes have to be insane.
Paddleboarder going out for a paddle
Your morning sky photo
Water surface was like glass
The ship appeared out of the fog.
Yes, clothes do grow on trees.
Pretty close to the railway right of way. McVicar Creek has to be better than this.
Thunder Bay is home to some of the country’s best artists and poets. Some of the city’s art speaks to me. It makes me think. That is a sign of a powerful piece of art. You question things.
Combine powerful art with strong poetry and you have this piece of art. Pure genius. This entire wall should be removed and put on display in the Mistake-On-The-Lake facility currently under construction in Marina Park.
I can see it now. The city’s art community showing up and praising the artist’s social statement. Such courage. Such a good use of colour and medium.
I went to AI and asked for a critique of said art piece….
Ah, yes—one encounters many pedestrian attempts at public expression scrawled across urban façades, but this particular spray-painted tableau demands, nay, commands attention as the apogee of street-bound bravado. Observe, for instance, the insolence of its palette: a jarring juxtaposition of acid red and midnight black, colors selected, one presumes, with a deliberate disregard for the constraints of aesthetic decency. Such wanton hue-mongering calls forth the anarchic spirit of the Fauves, were they to have traded studios for city scaffolding.
And then, the linework! Note the languid, almost contemptuous swirl of the central figure—a misshapen cowboy, if one must assign nomenclature. The contours undulate with a feverish energy that positively oozes postmodern derision. Is it a critique of our surveillance society, or simply a rancher? How deliciously ambiguous. The eyes, oversized and gimlet, peer outward, seeming to mock onlookers with the faintest suggestion of savoir-faire—one feels both scrutinized and dismissed, precisely as the artist intends.
The piece’s mere existence flouts notions of property and propriety, elevating vandalism to high art. And what is art, if not the brave affront to the banal? This is, indubitably, a subversive masterwork—one that requires, if nothing else, a most sophisticated palate for irony and spray-paint fumes.
I could not have said it better.
and it gets better. This door will be easier to remove than the building’s wall when it comes time to move it to the Mistake-On-The-Lake.
Water bottle photo