I read about an exhibit at an art museum a while back that consisted solely of old picture post cards that the "artist" had collected. Now I'm sure the collection was of great historic interest, but I'm not sure at all what qualified collecting photo post cards taken by someone else as being an art exhibit nor why the collector was considered an artist. But who am I to argue with the direction of post-modern art? So this is my first (and so far only) piece in my own collection of postcards that I'm sure will be of similar artistic import, if only I can come up with the correct spiel to go along with it. This particular postcard is courtesy of my father, who attended Antioch College in Yellow Springs back in the late 40s.

We watched this resourceful raven unzip the pack on the back of this bicycle and methodically take out a hat, a pair of gloves, the fleece jacket you see here, and some other items. He was searching for food, but alas did not find any so flew off empty-beaked. We were laughing about what the bike's owner was going to think happened when they came back and found all their stuff in a pile on the ground, but a kind woman put it all back in the pack and zipped it up. That perhaps confused the owner even more if they noticed things were in a different order than before.

Sliding doors on an old grain elevator. The high contrast of the weathered white paint looks more like a pen and ink drawing than a photograph.

I was at a loss to come up with a catchy name for this photo so just went with the patently obvious. You might have noticed the song lyric references in the photo titles for the last two days. If you're looking for a musical reference for today, I guess you'll have to settle for the lyricless Scott Joplin.

Like "Swimming Upstream" from two days ago, I see a lot of movement in this one. To me it looks like a gusty wind swirling the leaves down the street.

Especially with the leaves laying around, these tarred cracks take on the look of a stylistic painting (perhaps made with a sumi-e brush) of tree in winter.

Just tar on pavement but it has a lot of implied movement in it--perhaps akin to something I remember seeing in Health-Ed class in junior high school.

This is from the Smithsonian National Museum of American History. The picture was part of a big wall mural in the section on the history of power plant development in this country over the years. The electrical outlet was a regular working outlet--just one of the many standard outlets you find on walls everywhere. I assume it ended up right on top of the wagon that says "The Niagara Falls Power Co." by shear coincidence. But I suppose it could have been someone's well planned joke. Either way, I found it pretty funny.

Another still life.

A still life from our kitchen counter.

Painting the walls at the Hirshhorn Museum in preparation for a new exhibit.

I went through a bunch of old photos a while back and came up with some interesting images from random places and years that are POTD worthy, so I think I'll stray away from the themed work and post some of them for a few days.

I took this because I liked the lines of the buildings. But the cloud, which looks like it could be a puff of smoke coming from the smokestack on the left side of the building, adds a nice counterpoint to the angularity of the building lines.

A variation on the theme, trying to determine just what the boundaries of this series out to be. Maybe this one belongs in a series called Oblique Gridlock.

This is police headquarters in Omaha and, while it's probably just cosmetic, the facade look suitably fortified. The whole time I was standing there photographing it, I expected someone to come out and investigate what I was up to. Nothing happened but I imagine their security cameras got a nice shot of me as well.

If there were ever a need for the perfect visual metaphor for the tedious routines and stifling conformity of office life in a giant corporate machine, this would be a good candidate.

Globs of glue that used to hold tiles on the front of an old store in downtown Omaha. If they're dominoes, I guess that makes them double nines.

If you've been a regular viewer of my POTDs for a while, you are familiar with my Girl Reading a Book series of images. In the interest of symmetry, once in a while I like to post a  photo of a guy reading a book as well. But I imagine it will always be just partial symmetry because, all else being equal, I'd rather take a photograph of a girl than a guy.

I took this photo because I liked the architecture of the entryway to the Joslyn Art Museum. It wasn't until I was looking at the photo on the computer that I realized that the two sculptures in the photo are actually two parts of a single piece depicting a hunter and his prey. The sculpture is titled Indian and Pronghorn Antelope and it was created by the sculptor Paul Manship in 1914. There are various castings of this sculpture around the country including at the Art Institute of Chicago and the National Museum of Wildlife Art in Jackson, WY.  

 

With two pieces, a lot of variation is possible in how the sculpture is positioned. As far as I can tell, the other installations position the two pieces very close together and with the antelope facing the Indian. I think what the Joslyn has done is much more effective in showing what such a hunt is like, at least when viewed from the angle shot this photo (and of course assuming you realize the two pieces go together). 

The Joslyn Art Museum in Omaha is one of the few major museums I've been to that prohibits photographing its collection. They do allow photography in the entry areas of the building so I had to make due with that.  

I don't think it was the artist's original intent, but this looks like a woman giving someone what for. She looks pretty tough--if it was me she was talking too, I think I'd be paying attention. (Detail from Bas Relief Woman by Gaston Lachaise, 1934.)  

I was going to include this one in the gesture series, but somehow simply holding a bunch of flowers doesn't seem to qualify as a bona fide gesture. Still I like the shot. It is from a piece called Procession of the Empress as Donor with Her Court, from about the year 522.

To me this hand looks like it belongs to someone who's been working hard all day and is worn out to the point of hardly feeling like he can close his grip anymore. But maybe my interpretation is influenced by the fact that my summer project this year is residing my house. I've discovered that sitting behind a computer working on my photography all winter was not the best way to prepare myself physically for a summer of hauling lumber, climbing up and down ladders, pounding nails etc. 

 

Actually, this is a detail from Rodin's statue of Adam (see the full sculpture here). His posture is suppose to inspire sympathy for his struggle with the burden of sin. It certainly looks like he's had a tough day.

Detail from a painting of an artist presenting a painting. More specifically, it is Saint Luke Displaying a Painting of the Virgin by Giovanni Francesco Barbieri (aka Guercino), painted in 1652-1653.

Sculpture of a pioneer woman sowing wheat by David Alan Clark in the Cheyenne Botanical Gardens.

Sitting in the cafe at the Nelson-Adkins Museum of Art in Kansas City, this woman seemed to be making an emphatic point--one that appeared to be falling on deaf ears as her companions' attention seemed to be elsewhere.

I suppose there were times in its history when the skies above Sloss Furnaces looked a lot like this because of what it was spewing out of it's smoke stacks. Now it's just more benign storm clouds that give it that effect. This is the last of the series on Sloss Furnaces. Tomorrow it's on to something else.

Back outside at Sloss Furnaces where it had almost quit raining, although the water tower was still living up to its name.

Just another cog in the machine.

Some of the "furniture" in the throne room from yesterday. Because of the rain, it was nice and cool when I was there, but I couldn't help but shudder thinking what it must have been like to work there in the Alabama summer heat combined with that from the equipment when the furnaces where in operation. Ugh.

There were a couple of these throne-like chairs stuck in among the industrial equipment. Like the mask from yesterday, I suspect it is a left over prop from some film production that took place there. I don't know of any major features filmed at Sloss Furnaces but it has attracted all sorts of smaller efforts, usually involving subjects such as ghosts and hauntings.