little street items

MULCH!! the good, the bad and the ugly

2009-08-17T17:22:00.001-07:00

While walking my main man Sparky the other day in Volunteer Park,

we came upon this which was not there the day before:

and Sparky and I, simultaneously at the same time said (yeah, I actually know someone who says that), "Holy shit, they've mulched."

(Or as my algebra teacher who also taught Latin and just hapened to have a HUGE frog collection used to say, "Ye gods and little war horses, they've mulched!" OK, I get the 'ye gods' part because, after all she did teach Latin ... but I so do not get the frog collection and how that could possibly fit into Latin or Algebra-- and, of course, she never said "They've mulched!". I'm personally still thinking about the frog thing. How does that fit into teaching Latin or algebra? Ye gods and little war horses, froggies and formulas?) But...

The good:

They've mulched on Capitol Hill. Whoppee! We all know what a wonderful thing mulch can be for trees, plants and flowers. Mulch saves on water in the summer and keeps things warm and cuddly in the winter. I so love you mulch!

until i realized that meant...

The bad:

little street items were being covered by mulch!!

Which, in turn, means this much and more art is being destroyed

e-v-e-r-y day!

but today on our walk, we both saw the worst. we saw ...

the ugly.

we saw the ultimate evidence of "NOT MULCHING"

Miss you Mister Tree.

"LIE, CHEAT AND STEAL BUT DON'T GET CAUGHT"

2009-08-14T17:44:00.000-07:00

Gary Pruner: Fellini's Fettucine

Those words have guided me on my life long enjoyment and 'pursuit' of all things art. Not that I'm an artist. I've just always had a connection and camaraderie with artists. As time goes by, I realize the changing dimensions of that belief. When I was young, I thought this was an awesome statement. It still makes me giggle but now I realize the chances of 'not getting caught' are, of course slim and getting slimmer.

In my yutz (see "My Cousin Vinny" for that and other notable quotes like, "yeah, you blend"), I took many art classes. I had always looked at things differently. The classes and teachers gave me the confidence for that to be ok. (You know, "I'm Okay. You're Okay". We're all ok together-- except some of us never really did reach the penultimate of being ok in the eyes of those who control reality -- you know, we didn't become republicans.)

I was fortunate to have known teachers like Gary Pruner (the author of the quote above), Jack Ogden, Ken Waterstreet and Larry Foster. These guys, in turn, knew Robert Arneson, Wayne Thiebaud, Roy Lichtenstein and others. When you look at the art produced by them, you can understand why color and what people do with it is what matters most to me. So, when I'm out and . . .

I see this on the ferry I think of Piet Mondrian

And this on the ferry floor I'm reminded of Joan Miro

But all of this most reminds me of one of Gary's daily questions in class: "is there really ever anything new in art?"

And, if not, isn't that because lying, cheating and stealing really is what it's all about?

Venn diagram

2009-08-14T10:02:00.000-07:00

Laurel Street, San Carlos, CA

(found and photographed by Phoebe)

There is no doubt that, due to the superior flinging skills and gravity-testing inclinations of their owners, there are an abundance of lsi's whose former owners were clearly of the very small people variety. I've got the pictures to prove it. Pacifiers lying gracefully in a swath of brilliant green grass, beckoning for that long-gone mouth; little do they know they've been replaced by another in a long line of facsimilies. Unwanted. Unappreciated. So easily replaced. Sad. So sad.

But today, well, that was just something different. Because you know, here we are, on vacation (so to speak) in Silicon Valley, which didn't used to be Silicon Valley, it was just the burbs. You know, before all the houses on the block had a second story, before most people had pools, before there was a sushi restaurant within 20 miles, much less three of them in the space of two blocks. Before the hair salon with the bonnet hairdryers was replaced by a "day spa", which is the same thing, but sounds fancier. And before infants, borne of dot com millionaires (yes, they do still exist, and if you think otherwise, I might suggest a trip to my hometown), flung their rattles from their $900 carriages in such a way as to land in a perfect Venn diagram, signifying...well, something. I'm sure of that.

The intersection of "I've had enough of this farmer's market thing"/"It's dinnertime and I want food NOW!"/"I'm too old for this stupid rattle! Clearly you didn't major in child development!"? Perhaps.

The intersection of parents with too much money, children with overbooked schedules, and the desire for spontaneity? Possibly.

The intersection of does that strange lady really have to lean in that close, hey remember I am the center of the universe here, and um, excuse me, I have something rather uncomfortable in my diaper? Potentially.

Whatever.

Those Silicon Valley babies. Geniuses, I tell ya.

train tracks

2009-08-14T08:31:00.000-07:00

"I like to smoke pot here and watch the trains"

We found this note written on the wall of a walkway over the train tracks in Santa Barbara. Perhaps gives new meaning to "High in the Sky"

Posted by Bev
Airy Persiflage

Rocks Like Feathers In Mid-Air

2009-08-13T22:38:00.000-07:00

My repetitive thing might be feathers. I seem to see feathers a lot... or have them 'contributed' to me by circumstance. Like being on the beach at Eglon and have a Great Blue Heron drop on one, but three feathers- like presents. Very odd. And I gave them to a Native museum in AK, but behind the production warehouse for the Anchorage Opera there was a stream with LOTS of Bald Eagles... and they kept dropping feathers (yes, the kind the everyone wants, but are illegal to have!) sort of in my lap. I would be sitting eating my lunch and down would waft a tail feather.

On repetitive... not sure if that would not come from what we are unconsciously LOOKING for. You might see bees, I might see feathers... and I suspect that it also might come in waves. Like words... you hear something like 'miasma' and think 'I love that word, but you NEVER hear it'... and then you hear it a lot. Not sure if that means that it was NOT said before, or whether it had floated up to one's more conscious 'ears'.

And as a family of rock hounds, I also am always looking down in likely environments for interesting rocks (which are so rarely found floating at eye level!)... so see other 'things' among rocks, etc. And just tend to be looking at the ground when walking/hiking (and never much liked tripping on things...).

Posted by LTC

'NUF SAID

2009-08-03T17:11:00.000-07:00

Record heat wave in Seattle:

July, 2009

"The descent to Hades is the same from every place."

-- Anaxagoras

Anaxagorus (500bc to 428 bc) distrusted the senses and gave preference to the conclusions he drew from reflection-- there must be blackness as well as whiteness in snow; otherwise, how could snow be turned into dark water?

I love the simplicity of this thinking; we could do worse.

INVASION OF THE BODY SNATCHERS

2009-07-29T12:08:00.000-07:00

My name is Joe.
Joe Friday.
Sergeant Joe Friday.
Sergeant Josephine Friday.
I'm a detective with the Seattle Police Department.

It was on a Friday-- not a Joe Friday-- just a regular Friday.
In July.
In Seattle.
I had just taken my car into the shop to be fixed.
My detective car.
My Volkswagon Bug.
Did I already say it was my detective car? It was.
My detective car.

My partner and I were just leaving the repair shop.

It was 3:46 and 12 seconds.

We heard a scream. We looked around. We heard it again!

We looked around again.

And there, on the street right before us was this:

BUah-hahahahaha! Broken glasses!

Then THIS:

Buahhahahahah²

And then we screamed:

AND THEN . . .

WE ALL SCREAMED . . .

FOR ICE CREAM!!

Aloha

2009-07-24T13:55:00.000-07:00

(Found on Mt. Auburn Street, Cambridge, MA, 07/23/09)

E noho iho I ke opu weuweu, mai ho'oki 'eki 'e.

(Remain among the clumps of grass and do not elevate yourself,
i.e. don't show off, don't get bigheaded)

You Throw Yourself in Front Of Me, You Get Introduced.

2009-07-23T14:05:00.000-07:00

(found on Mt Auburn Street, Cambridge, MA, 07/23/09)

Okay, so I'm not one to thumb my nose at fate. I do what I'm told. I follow directions. I take the long road, I take on the harder task, I do what must be done.

Apparently, today, I'm supposed to tell you about one Casey Olsson, since he happened to lie in my path as I walked between working at the library and picking up my daughter at theater camp. And well, because I'm nothing if not conscientious, it's just not going to do to say wow, he's got two s's in his name just like Hanna Andersson, the children's clothing store where I dropped a far larger wad yesterday than was probably warranted but god, it was so damn cute and those clothes last, like, For Ever, not that that matters since kids outgrow them, but like I said, they're beautiful and comfortable in the meantime, and well, every now and again, I am apt to be mistaken for a sucker.

And wow, I just said that Casey is a he. And I don't even know that. So hold on. I'll be right back. I don't want to, as they say, make an ass out of "u" and me, now do I?

Okay. I'm back. Thanks for waiting. And lookee there, I did overstep my bounds.

lsi'ers, meet Ms. Casey Olsson. Casey, meet the lsi'ers.

It seems as if that job at Baypath is going pretty well. Since February 2008, eh? That's good, and in today's market and everything. Director of Admissions only several years out of college at Emerson, too. Not bad. I bet you were named most likely to succeed at South Windsor High School!

Here's what we're doing everybody. Casey's birthday is August 20, and you know, that's coming up real soon. What say we all send her cards? Well, I'm doin' it anyway.

Okay, so here's the truly cool question, and most importantly, what I really want to know. I want
to know if this Casey Olsson person is the same Casey Olsson person as the Casey Olsson Middleton person that wrote this book, which is apparently first in a series of children's books, based in an...ahem...New England school....

...because that would be too cool. Wouldn't it? If she was biding her time as a mild-mannered director of admissions while secretly nurturing her writer persona? I'm all for that.

Oh, and Casey? Bummer about somebody throwin' away your business card, though. Sorry about that. I'm sure it was just that there was a a gust of wind and it blew out of their hand and they dug around on the sidewalk for hours but couldn't find it in the dark. Don't feel bad. But check missed connections on craigslist just in case.

Just goes to show you. You never know what you'll find on lsi (the site, not the street, but that too). Stay tuned.

p.s. (Do you love Google or do you love Google? Tell me the truth.)

Ba-ba-ba, Ba-ba-ba-rette

2009-07-22T18:11:00.000-07:00

i must admit to having a real affinity for this found item: the bee barrette. it was not found on the west coast which would make sense since that's where i am. nope. it was found in boston. bummer. finding it here would have made this a 'complete' story. i guess we'll have to just settle for a fractional story. (and, by the way, have you noticed how much the word “fractional” has crept into our everyday language lately? fractional ownership, fractional reserve banking, fractional real estate, blah, blah, blah...) but back to the bee...

well no, wait a minute. before the bee, i should probably make some kind of connection for you between the barrette and the song Barbara Ann (or Anne, depending on whether you remember the song from the doo-wop group,The Regents or from the Beach Boys --or whether you remember the song at all). i saw the barrette and immediately that song came to mind. i do this a lot. i can be thinking of a situation or a word, see something or nothing and a tune will pop into my head. i'm not big on lyrics though-- in fact, i'm really good at misunderstanding lyrics which is why it makes perfect sense that the word “barrette” would morph into the Barbara Ann song. barrette is just that kind of word. good beat. hmmm, i think it's a 10. don't think about it; just let it be. soon you'll find yourself doing the same thing. Guaranteed. so, now back to the bee...

i have a l-o-n-g history with the bee. it all started with an ex who insisted that my family and i have our own 'secret' language which she coined "bie language". now when you see this, you automatically think, "oh, that's pronounced like pie-- apple, berry, etc." well, not so much. the correct pronunciation is "bee"-- as in 'bee-shovel' and, consequently, “bee language”. that woman, the ex, felt only those in our family truly understood what we were saying to one another-- most often when we were not saying anything to each other. (psychologists would have a field day with this: “well, exactly what are you saying to each other when buzzing in your bee way? is it like vocal releasing? have you been working on 'letting go' of your buzzing in lieu of using actual language?”)

people have commented (read: complained) that I leave long pauses between sentences. they think i'm done talking so they start talking. i say, “i'm just thinking.” but today, it hit me like a ton of bees! i'm in my buzzing mode then and waiting for someone to buzz me back!

since that first observation by an outsider of our family speaking bee, new forms have been incorporated aside from the purely linguistic one-- and include all things “bee”. Bee aprons, bee dishes, bee dog costumes, bee season, the secret life of bees, yada, yada, yada, ad nauseum. And now here's the bee barrette! But being a bee, speaking bee and marrying a bee (thus becoming an “honorary” bee) isn't about things.

the most significant and illustrative bee story was observed by my partner, annie, during a conversation between me and my siblings after our mother's sudden stroke. we were deciding if we felt mom would want any heroic efforts performed to revive her if that became necessary. while annie was listening to the conversation she had a full blown bee language experience. “you all switched to 'antenna'. the conversation turned in a different direction and you talked about completely other things. suddenly, without any discussion that i could discern, everyone ended the call by agreeing that your mom would not want any heroic efforts made. that was it, the end, finito!” yep, bee language in action-- or maybe i should say, non-action.

but, at important times-- when we have life decisions to make or decisions about one another-- the buzzing starts, our antenna go up, our minds circle around all we know of each other and we quietly start humming, “bee-bee-bee. bee-ba-ba-rrette”.

Welcome to Little Street Items

2009-07-15T22:29:00.001-07:00

or as we like to call it, "lsi".

little street items is an idea that sat germinating in the streets and gutters of Massachusetts and Washington state waiting to be noticed by its creators, Robin & Pat. Unknown until recently despite a 20 year friendship, we share an affinity for noticing the oddities, ironies and just plain interesting things in life-- especially those found when looking down. It probably should be pointed out that this idea of looking down in no way reflects their views of life. Ok, that could be construed as being a little less than honest, but give us a break, we're trying.

What we've discovered as we've spent good portions of life looking down is how much of life there is on the streets, right there, laying in front of you. See? Right there! Whaddya mean you don't see it? All of these "little street items" represent so much -- certainly art and what makes art arty, life (is that broad enough?), stories we make up about who owned these little street items and how they ended up in the street, what we think about when we see little street items, what we might create out of them to start them on their new life, and what treasures go unnoticed, stepped over, stepped on, every day of our busy lives.

Like the folks at Found magazine, who focus on found written materials, we too believe that found objects can give us a "glimpse into someone else's life" (and maybe our own, too?). This site is dedicated primarily to the items that tell their story without words. In this way, the story is ours to create.

On a walk with her eight year old daughter a little over a year ago, Robin was regaled with the elaborate story of the alien spacecraft that had landed roughly some years ago in these parts, and left behind these many mechanical pieces--springs, pieces of circuit boards, random scraps of paper with print on them, unidentifiable metal parts, rubber washers. It was critical to walk carefully, always on the lookout, everpresent plastic bag in hand, to collect them all, for it was only with a full complement that we might solve the mystery of this visit by extraterrestrials and help decode the message that they left for us, mere mortals that we are. There is a story like this in every walk, in every city, on every day. That's what we're after.

But, this blog isn't just about what we think, what we find, the stories we tell. It's also for you, for all of us. Voila! You're a guest blogger! (that was easy, eh?). Here's what you do: First, you start carrying a camera at all times (you probably have one in your cell phone, so that's easy). When you find the lsi's, take pictures and send them, along with your 'story', ideas what to use it for, box tops and bottle caps (it'll be good for a chorus of "Up in the air, Junior Birdman" at the very least), to us at Little Street Items, and we'll post it!

No, there's not a standard. No, there are no rules. No, there are no "stupid" stories. What grabs your eye? Does the bright green of a simple bottle cap shine particularly brightly on the dull grey sidewalk on the first sunny day in months? Good by us.

See? Didn't we tell you lsi's are right in front of you all the time, every day? Isn't that easy?

Welcome. Sit down, make yourself at home. But not for too long...there are things out there to find!!