What a difference a new front makes

You may recall Allison's, the gas station turned auto parts store, at the corner of Grove and Gurley. For the past couple of months, workmen have been busy remaking this example of nondescript architecture into...

...the very model of a respectable financial institution. It's been absolutely fascinating to watch how a simple new facade is transforming what is basically the same old box for a totally new use.

A touch of parking lot landscaping adds to the illusion. And what will occupy the made-over premises? Just mosey down Grove Street one block...

...to the Credit Union West, which is moving out of its strange quarters and into the newly refurbished building. The future of this structure, which is the last non-Prescott College premise on the block? PC is adding it to the collection of recycled buildings that comprise its campus; latest word is that it will serve as the school's visitors center.

Sharing a sense of place.

Aside from business seminars, it's been ever so long that I've sat in a classroom with real students. Until the other day. My neighbor, a professor of anthropology at Prescott College, invited me for an informal, end of quarter class session dedicated to a sense of place, that place being central Arizona.

The students, most of whom had been in Prescott all of four months, were to select a favorite or interesting aspect of the local scene and share their sense of it by whatever means or media seemed most appropriate. The idea was to step back from the academic and change to a more direct, gut experience.

Here, Rhuta, the one native-born-and-raised Arizonan, confers with the professor...

...then, once her computer was synced with the house system, proceeded with a slide show of doors from all over town, doors representing entrances to new experiences and people. Interesting: I had also photographed some of the doors she collected, including the Cortez street entrance above. However, her deepest connection with place was Buckskin Canyon, a slot canyon off the Paria River (below) where she returns time and again to hike, camp and commune.

Brie, a newcomer from Maine, created collages to catch the feel of our boom town (above) and her joy in African dance participation (below).

Christine (at right, playing the guitar) performs what I call her Talkin' Granite Basin Lake Blues, all about how she often slipped into the basin at night, long after closing hours, enjoying the solitude -- and the uncountable shooting stars visible away from the city.

The paintings and breakfast remains belong to Sarah, a Philadelphian who had never seen real mountains until she flew out to Arizona to meet Prescott College. She too had slides -- a kaleidoscope of her many new experiences of Prescott (and those mountains, as seen from the window of a plane.) Oh, yes, the hat. It's a real beauty. She bought it from the shop on Whiskey Row and, like me, she also took pictures in the shop despite the "no photographs" sign.

Fox is a poet and a passionate one. His prime presentation wrapped around Thumb Butte and its sunsets.

For the record, the course is titled Contemporary Issues in Anthropology; the text (shown in the top picture) is History Is In The Land, which explores the oral traditions that link four contemporary tribes -- Tohono O’odham, Hopi, Zuni, and San Carlos Apache -- to Arizona's San Pedro Valley. My neighbor and I both share a fascination with a sense of place -- as I'm sure my readers are well aware.

More Academics: well, sorta. The dotter has just written a wonderful, very funny post on what it takes to get homework done.

Sam Hill: art, opening, warehouse

The old Sam Hill Warehouse sits on a rise abutting what was at one time the Santa Fe tracks. Fortunately, the old structure has survived to morph into Prescott College's Art Gallery and Visual Arts Center. Work transforming the building has been ongoing for a couple of years; Friday night was the official opening, with a major show in the gallery. The new student facilities were also on display.

Featured works included photo collage/panoramas of Yosemite, revisiting the work of such early masters as Ansel Adams and Edward Weston (above), and a series of photogenic drawings (below).

Insensitive clod that I am, I was quite as interested in the facilities as in the art works! Above, the art studio, complete to a full skeleton in the right hand corner.

The darkroom took me back many years. Just look at all those enlargers! (And there are more, which I couldn't get into the picture.) No thanks, I'd just as soon not go back to those Good Old Days. It was expensive. Time-consuming. Black and white. The sign below says it all quite well. But -- the results were probably a lot more permanent than all the colorful digital pictures that I'm taking these days. And it's great that student photographers get a good taste of the discipline and hard work that were required yesterday.

More my speed -- one of several computer work clusters in the digital workshop.

Enough of the new; here are some of the features of the historic building. Above, a distinctive opening in the floor, though I know not the purpose -- it may have been a chute from the railroad level to the lower floor where local deliveries would originate.

These are the big doors that opened to the railroad for unloading. Sorry about the clutter, but this picture from last year's art auction was the best in my archive! Below, open rafters in the upper floor of the building.

Just for the record, I'm not sure that many people will recall the short-lived restaurant that occupied what is now the upstairs gallery space. Back in the late 80s, if I recall correctly. A good 10-15 years too early to cash in on the dining out habits of our California newcomers.

The glass landscape

Walking Norris Street as it approached the low water level crossing of Butte Creek, I noticed that there was new ground cover along the Garden Street corner. Looked like salt and pepper, not your usual tan decayed granite gravel. You can see the difference at the top of the picture above.

Intrigued, I moved in closer. Aha. Shattered glass, about the same size as the usual gravel. But clear, with scattered remnants of beer and wine bottles. Even the occasional blue medicine container from the past. The only item missing: glass that has been sitting in the Arizona sun long enough to turn purple. In any event, an interesting use for yesterday's glass. Prescott College turf; it figures.

You must understand that the city does recycle. Some plastics. Cardboard and paper. No glass, however. I'm willing to bet that this bin over at PC's recycling set-up is possibly the only place for abandoned glass in town. After a not-so-quick visit to consult with The Google, I find that recycled glass landscaping is apparently neither that new nor that remarkable; over 133K links. Just new to me. My idea of what to do with used glass? Throw it into a rapids or over a seaside cliff. The one season I lived by the sea down in Florida, finding translucent glass shards was always a thrill! But I guess that mulch will do.

And, speaking of mulch, oh what lovely looking heaps of mulch there were at the PC recycling center. Too bad that there isn't a service one could call to send a chipper with operator around the neighborhoods to return sticks and grass and pine needles to the earth, rather than burning or stashing them forever in a landfill.

Linking: Interesting data on water allocation in Arizona in the Courier. Worth a read.

Photographers Among the Arches

Fortune smiled Friday night: I had a chance to visit the chapel at Prescott College, this time complete with camera. Newcomers may not know that one of the older buildings on the campus was built as a convent for the old Sacred Heart (oops!) Mercy Hospital on Grove Street.

The occasion was fitting -- two prominent local photographers were presenting their work for the college audience. But, first, up the stairs...

The classic oak staircase has been beautifully refinished. Very simple, as is the former chapel, where we were headed.

An arch defines the chancel, with arches to either side.

The windows, too, are arched.

Ornamentation on the columns is the only exception to an otherwise nearly spartan interior.

One of the speakers, Dale O'Dell, has completely embraced our age in which Adobe PhotoShop is possibly a more important tool for the illustrator than the camera and lens. Here, he discusses his approach to a member of the audience following the presentation.

The other presentation was by Ross Hilmoe (right) who calls himself a traditional photographist, working primarily in black and white. In my lifetime, I've been my partner's lab assistant for both b&w and color film work. In comparison, the digital world is a piece of cake! Ross, by the way, is almost the only person in town who still processes and prints black and white -- important to know if you have old negatives sitting in a shoe box that you want printed! A neighbor who specializes in archeological field work knows Ross well -- it seems that many of his contracts require him to provide archival black and white prints of sites.

All of which brings up the subject of just how long any document or picture can be expected to survive. My own theory is that the half-life of any medium for storing information has been getting shorter and shorter. Petroglyphs have lasted millenia; Egyptian parchment over 2000 years. B&w film lasts far longer than color. On the other hand, can your computer even read an 8" or 5" diskette? Will our children's children really be able to see all those millions of digital pictures we take each year? I sometimes wonder. History is, of course, based on the handful of records which survive.

Blogging Photo Update: Backtrack to the post of blogging tips & scroll way down. Rich has added still more pointers to the discussion of best digital photography practice. Next, link over to Chatoyance, where Lori offers her blogging tips; she too is fast becoming an ace photographer!

Chainsaw Sculpture: Crude & Refined

Do you, by any chance, recall a 1982 pop book, Real Men Don't Eat Quiche. It was one of those overnight sensations that disappeared just as fast as it appeared. I've always remembered this item: one of the most important historic dates for Real Men was the day the chainsaw was invented. Today, it is an implement of a most manly art form.

These 3-4 foot pine logs have been sitting at a neighboring house for several months; I lust after one or more. But it turns out the the occupant is into chainsaw sculpture. Garden gnomes, I'm told. All by way of introduction to one of my favorite art forms.

Chainsaw sculpture can be simple, like the cat over at Miss Kitty's...

...more detailed, like this bear I photographed in Ponderosa Park...

or crude like the four or five critters sitting up on poles overlooking the pond at the late lamented Young's farm. Above, one of two eagles and, below, a dog.


I'll admit that this sasquatch isn't a local item -- SIL photographed him up on the Al-Can highway on the way to Alaska. While I tend to think of chainsaw artistry as a very American thing, it actually is a world wide phenomenon. One article I read credited the boom in chainsaw carving to the internet, believe it or not!

Since the medium is a tree trunk, a totem pole of one variety or another is an obvious use. This is another sculpture from Ponderosa Park.

Three bears are climbing the pole...

...which is topped off by an eagle. Local critters and themes are typical subjects -- Paul Bunyan at the Minnesota State Fair, moose in northern states, frogs, eagles and toadstools everywhere and, I presume, trolls in Norway. Browsing a few of The Google's 14,000+ chainsaw sculpture entries, I even saw a beautifully carved giant snail.

One of the more elegant local examples of chainsaw artistry is the totem pole in Prescott College's library.

Incorporating several local animals, the sculpture even has a white stripe down its back side. Symbol of the skunk, perhaps, or maybe snakes.

I'd hate to run into this intimidating mountain lion that tops the carving; if you look more closely, a raven is just below the cat.

The first time I saw the totem pole, I did not see all the animals that were present, such as these deer.

Here is another raven. There are probably other critters that I will discover on my next visit!

However, my absolutely most favorite sculpt is the Viking a couple of streets over. Whenever I have a new visitor, he or she is taken on a walk to gawk at my heroic friend. Today being a holiday, he had a flag in his fist. I'm sure he is meant to hold a spear but I guess that it is stashed in the closet.