follow-ups

I'll start with the good news first. Jennifer's photo of some guy looking out a window in an ivy-covered parking garage was the runner-up in the Urban Photo Safari Contest, which 25 photographers or teams took part in. There are a lot of good photos on the contestant site that provide a neat view of Kansas City landmarks.

In sad news, I received word today that the brown bear named JJ1, or "Bruno" as he has been referred to by the European press, has been killed. Politicians and animal lovers alike were upset by the outcome. According to Yahoo! News, Tony Scherer, the mayor of Schliersee, the Bavarian town near Spitzingsee lake, where Bruno was killed, disagreed with the actions.

"The death penalty has been abolished," Scherer said. "This bear didn't do anything bad — for me it is absolutely unnecessary for him to have been shot."

I first wrote about Bruno on this site several weeks ago, excitedly suggesting that JJ1's adventures would make great fodder for a song, screenplay or poem. However, I can't say I didn't anticipate a tragic end to the saga. As usual, society and squeamish sheep farmers are to blame. However, I also hold the media partially responsible. The media's chosen nickname of "Bruno" invokes the unpleasant traits of brutality, belligerence, as well as the name of Popeye's nemesis. Bruno also suffers an unfortunate association with another tragic German figure, Bruno S. Bruno S. starred in the Werner Herzog films "Stroszek" and "The Mystery of Kaspar Von Hauser," both of which follow the life of a societal fringe character. Bruno S. suffers an untimely death in both films, in a similar way that Bruno the bear perishes in the cruellest motion picture of all: life.

At least one of the readers of this site have written in to express their dismay over the shooting. "Bruno, we hardly knew ye!" writes Jeffrey A. of Waldo. "Why, God, why?" To those of you in mourning, I understand your frustration. My only hope is that Bruno's mother will appear and begin terrorizing the intolerant Tyrolians, much like Grendel's mom attacked the Geats in Beowulf. Another classic work of literature, Gasoline Alley, appears to anticipate such an event as well, as evidenced by their comic this Saturday.

Unfortunately, nothing can bring Bruno back now, not even laughter. I hope to pay my respects to him in Munich once his remains are put on display in the museum of Nature and Man.

In final blog follow-up notes, almost half of the class of 1992 (not really) have emerged to leave comments about their 14-year-old yearbook photo. Perhaps a reunion photo is in order, if such a document can be unearthed.

Thank you for your faithful attention to this site, which suffers an identity crisis with almost each and every post. A new name and additional editors will likely be in place before July. As always:

kansas city through jenn's lense

The photography of Jennifer Lynne Brothers is one of the main reasons I persist with this site. Two weeks ago, I acted as her chauffeur in order to explore the town and take photos for the Urban Photo Safari. Here are a few of the shots.



Truxtaposition

We went to the State Street Bank to find the entrance to the old Subway tunnel, but it's blocked off now. This is from the upper levels of the garage overlooking the SoHo lofts

Never et here before. It's on 35th & Prospect.

From an old plane hangar in an industrial park along 31st St. Looks like they are throwing this wingless wonder out with the garbage.

We drove by this place because there were giant decorative umbrellas outside that looked like mythical Marioland toadstools. What we found was a rundown building with a man peering at us warily from the doorway. A couple of gentlemen walked up and the man told them they were closed. (Closed for what?) A couple of ladies came out and sat on the porch. It didn't look like they had any teeth. I think they thought we were narcs, but all we were trying to do was have a photo safari. Silly narcississies.


Jennifer has more photos on her site, and the rest of her entry to this contest can be seen on the photo safari contestant page. There were quite a few good shots taken at the event, and all in all it's an interesting way to get an idea of how rundown but colorful the town can be. Also, here are three neat shots from last winter that Jenn took of the artspace near my apartment and the building where I work.

the lunar townhomes that never were (reprise)

(as usual, click on pictures and text to make them legible)

"How would you like to play ping-pong on the moon?" is the question I always ask myself when I look at this illustration I cut out from an old National Geographic a few years ago. I can't remember the date of publication for this picture, drawn by science fiction artist Davis Metzler, but I'm pretty sure it ran sometime between Neil Armstrong's 1969 landing and Apollo 17 in 1972, which was the last time any human has set foot on the moon.

Though people during the early Apollo missions might have assumed moon homes were the logical next step, it would take a pretty giant leap of the imagination to picture something like this happening anytime in our lifetimes, especially since no one has been there in 34 years. So what happened to dampen our enthusiasm for colonizing the moon, besides a couple of space shuttle crashes?

In her 2003 book, "Rocket Dreams: How the Space Age Shaped Our Vision of a World Beyond," journalist Marina Benjamin takes a philosophical approach to why the moon landings didn't lead to permanent bases like this one.

"Homesickness prevailed over the imperative to press outward and upward," Benjamin writes. "Images of our lush fragile globe beamed back from afar made cooling, protective converts of the most forward-thinking rationalists, and before long many of these had swaddled themselves in environmentalism. Exploration was out and conservation was in ... Within less than a decade of landing on the Moon, all our outward-bound aspirations had more or less turned in on themselves."

Or to quote Elton John lyricist Bernie Taupin from their song Rocket Man, "it's lonely out in space."

Like a kid who goes too far out of his head on drugs and gets homesick for an innocent, normative state, the astronauts in the Apollo missions expressed a longing to return to earth even before they left. The lunar missions also mirror psychedelic experiences in that people who try psychedelic drugs usually only do so for a couple of year time period before they decide it's time to move on. Maybe the people involved in the space program felt they had done as much lunar exploration as they needed to. I have no doubt that humans will make contact with the moon again someday, but it might be by a later civilization, or at least a different nation state than the ones in power now.

In the arts, however, the moon remains as inspring as ever. What's not to be inspired by? It's bright, round, changes shape each day and takes on different qualities each month which are known to many native peoples by many different names. The moon exerts a commanding influence on the waves we surf and the women we love. It's also the subject of a lot of poetry, both excellent and abysmal.

Fortunately, you don't have to be John Donne to write about the moon's influence effectively. In fact, it is often the most simple lunar observations that remain memorable. One evening in the Rheinland, when four of us decided to go on our own little space adventure in the hills of the Kottenforst, Wade decided he wasn't feeling well and broke away from the group to enjoy a more urban sojourn. While walking around the city listening to his discman, he paid special attention to the moon, which kept threatening to disappear for good behind wisps of passing clouds. "Come on, moon!" he kept shouting. "You're the only friend I have left!"

It was actually while visiting Wade in Madison, Wisconsin under the glare of the Tim Burton moon that I first postulated my theory of Lunar Poetic Inversion. The theory suggests that because earth-bound humans look to the moon to receive and inspire our most poetic thoughts, any words actually spoken on its surface (should we get the chance to visit) would logically be the most authentic, poetic sentiments we are capable of expressing, however trite or plain-faced they may sound on other surfaces (i.e. "earth is beautiful", "I miss my wife", "if only I had a taco"). I abandoned the theory of Lunar Poetic Inversion once I realized that it doesn't make any sense, but I still think it's a pretty thought.

To sum it up, no matter what scientific or artistic accomlishments it inspires, instilling those of us on earth with a sense of childlike wonder will always be the moon's true legacy. That, and a delectable, pre-packaged pastry known as the banana moon pie.

Class of 1992 (not really)

While I'm posting children's drawings, I might as well post this fake grade school yearbook page I drew and gave copies of to my real classmates in the spring of 1992. I was thinking of it the other day, and while shuffling boxes around tonight, it popped up.

All characters are originals, except for a few like Arnold, Daniel, Paul and Zordack, who are clearly celebrity-influenced. Shirley, in the upper right corner, was our bus driver. Ms. Jackson has nothing to do with the Outkast song, predating it by several years. Xavier X looks like a tooth. More up-to-date artwork coming soon!

New Art Acquisition: Robo-Knight

While attending Liz's popple show this weekend, I picked up the most recent addition to my medley of original works of art -- a colored pencil and magic marker drawing entitled "Robo-Knight." "Robo-Knight" is the work of Atticus von Holten, who I believe is 8 years old. His work was featured last month in the Kids' Corner wing of the Olive Gallery, where myself and other Lawrence art collector glitterati snatched up his illustrations for the alarmingly low sum of $2 each.

The chivalric nature of the subject matter, the knight's triumphant posture and the fusion of space- and middle-ages mark young Atticus as an artist after my own heart. I'm reproducing it here to boast of my acquisition, naturally, but more importantly to announce the emergence of this exciting new illustrator.

Jay Jay One's Courageous Quest

While copy-editing Universal Press Syndicate's "EarthWeek" feature, an ecological week-in-review that lists the recent earthquakes, floods, volcanos and a couple of animal-interest stories, I learned about one bear's epic and controversial Bavarian adventure.

"JJI" is a two-meter tall brown bear who crossed over from Austria into Germany, where he has been terrorizing sheep, crushing beehives and basically just doing fun, stereotypical bear shit. Authorities later figured out "JJ" had journeyed all the way from Italy, where he was part of a project to reintroduce brown bears to the Italian Alps.

Though the situation is probably amusing to most folks, some Bavarian sheep-owners were pretty pissed, prompting Bavarian authorities to take action. According to the Los Angeles Times:

Bavarian Environment Minister Werner Schnappauf initially declared that the bear was welcome in the province but changed his mind after consulting experts. He said Monday that the animal might have to be killed or at least caged for good.

"The bear has turned into a problem bear," Schnappauf told reporters. "The animal has to be taken out of circulation."

Naturally, I think JJ should remain in heavy circulation (specifically 200 kilograms), and so do a lot of animal rights groups. For the time being, the bear has retreated back into Austria, where the government and people are a bit bear-friendlier. We'll have to see what happens. In the meantime, I also can't help wondering about the motivation behind his journeys (which is probably a result of my seeing "Over the Hedge" the night before). Maybe he just decided, "Italy is great and all, but this whole "reintroduction to the wild" thing is a joke, so I'm just going to lope my way on up to Bavaria, where the sheep are fat, the beehives are sumptious, the alp horns echo through the valleys and the living is altogether easy." I received a text message yesterday from Andrew Giessel that said "It is the courage of the creative person, as much as the art, which stokes my interest." I think you can apply that to JJ as well.

Regardless of whether he's making a statement or just following his animal instincs, this is certainly great material for a song, poem or screenplay. If any of you would like to write one, I'll be happy to post it here on this most visible and viable of Web sites. To read more about JJ, check out this story from the LA Times.