The vast Canadian prairies are vast.
This former hotel was once the only place in town where alcohol was available, but only to its guests. Pullman’s employees, however, were barred from the hotel or its bar and restaurant. The industrialist did not believe his workers should drink. As noted in the previous post, George Pullman was a touch paternalistic.
From a shuttered amusement park in the middle of Ohio. Nature has reclaimed most of what there was to see, with rusted rails furtively peeking out of dense foliage before plunging again into the thicket.
My entry in the ongoing plant-off that the Idiot Photographer and I are engaged in, good naturedly, of course. We need JuniorBBQ and Moribund to come in with some prairies and pianos soon lest this blog become the botanist’s illustrated guide to armageddon.
The rather esoteric title of this post is a reference to the Edward Gorey of the same name. The story (presented in a form similar to a graphic novel, with each paragraph illustrated with Gorey’s idiosyncratic drawings) details the process by which the protagonist, one Mr. Earbrass, writes a novel, the eponymous Unstrung Harp. While humorous, it presents the act of creation as neurotic, exhausting, self-alienating, and somewhat absurd. This particular story came to mind while I’ve been combing and recombing my recent pictures in order to find pictures that could make the cut for presentation here on The Idiot Photographer. Much like the fictional Mr. Earbrass, I’ve gone through exhilaration and zeal, periods of numbness, and have now reached a stage where most of the last month’s worth of photography seem alien to me. The thing in Harp, however, is that Earbrass is a successful author; he gets lost in the process of creation, but what emerges is apparently a good novel. I wish I could say the same for my own act of creation.
This, of course, is a result of not having been on a shoot in a while; I’m in need of fresh material to edit and agonize over. This will likely be my last post for the next ten days or so, as I leave for Buenos Aires Saturday. Hopefully I’ll return with several memory cards of decent material. Until then, here’s a shot of a tree attempting to escape a ruined apartment building.
For those interested in a neat write-up of The Unstrung Harp, I found this on WordPress.
Trees sprout from the crumbling Packard edifice; the General Motors headquarters looms victorious over its long-vanquished rival.
For all of winter’s austerities, there are riches to be found for those who look.