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Experiment: I grabbed one random Magnetic Poetry tile out of a pile I have on my desk, and then stuck it to three random steel objects within a few hundred feet of my office, and took snapshots (yes, it's a little slow around here... howabout some orders, people!?). I left it on that twisted post in the third picture; it's still out there if you're in the neighborhood and want it. So there's an added scavenger hunt dimension to this piece... it's almost friggin' performance art!
So, if you think that "liberty" is the answer to everything, could you be described as "liberal?"
Lookie what I found up near Ely this weekend! They're at their absolute peak right now; if you wanna get some, you'd better go now.
My friend, Berry, and I rode Wisconsin's Sparta - Elroy bike trail over the weekend. I wanted to see this, the oldest (created in 1967) rails-to-trails project in the U.S., famous for its three tunnels, one so long you can't see either entrance from the middle (spooky!). It has always been a bit of a legend in my mind; my folks used to ride it in the 70's, and I can still see them in their tube socks, running shorts, Ray Bans and terrycloth headbands, toasting the camera with Olympia beers, younger then than I am now.
It was a great trip and a lovely trail in almost every way, but there were a couple of disappointments. For one thing, there was hardly anyone there. We were certainly the only cyclists I saw with camping gear; other riders seemed to be local families out for a short jaunt down a small section of the 34 mile crushed gravel path. This on a beautiful weekend in July in a place that bills itself as "The Bicycling Capital of the World." The villages along the way didn't help; they were pretty near ghost towns. None of them had an open grocery store; Tunnel Tom, the sweetest and most gregarious entrepreneur ever (pictured here), told us that they all lost out to Walmart. We spent half an hour searching for the walk-in campground in Elroy, which while beautiful, was devoid of both campers and management. That's nice if you want privacy, not so nice if you want security and firewood.
Another thing that made me a little sad was the very thing that
created the trail in the first place: the demise of trains, especially passenger rail, in America.
Tunnel Tom regaled us with stories of the vaunted Twin Cities 400 line, which
luxuriously traveled this route, some of the most beautiful country on
earth, every day in 400 minutes between Chicago and Minneapolis. Man, I would have loved to ride that train!
Along with hundreds of others, I've been riding to the Bike Film Festival, a three-day extravaganza that tours the country and lands in this city every July at the sweetest time of the year for night cycling. The (short) films are always great, the audience is raucous and enthusiastic, and the parking is an inspiration; imagine these vehicles being cars... where would you put them all?
As seen in Minneapolis' Walker Sculpture Garden. The artist is Jenny Holzer, and the work is called Selections From The Living Series, consisting of 28 garden benches inscribed with "truisms." Most, like this one, first strike you as funny and then leave a delightfully disturbing aftertaste. Mmmm....
Magnetic Poetry is a sponsor of the 2010 National Poetry Slam (here's our ad for the playbill), which is taking place at various venues around St. Paul, Minnesota August 3rd - 7th. I've been to several of these over the years, and they're pretty cool, definitely a cut above the stuff you used to see in the local bar slams that were all the rage (often quite literally) in the mid '90s. It's great to see the young hip-hop-influenced artists alongside the more traditional poets, and the audiences are as enthusiastic as those at burlesque shows. I've always been surprised and moved at these events. Check it out if you're in town, and give some props to these largely unsung literary lions... heaven knows, they ain't making any money from this!
Some of you may remember that back in March I made a "garden bench" that turned out to work better as an end table. Well, yesterday I went back to the task of making a garden bench and wound up making a breakfast table. At least I've moved to outdoor furniture, so I'm one step closer to my originally intended task. Like the end table, this is made from cast offs: a really dirty old dumpster board (it was a two by nine; I've never seen that size before) and some tree trimmings found at a friend's farm. I call it a breakfast table because after about three in the afternoon it's too buggy to spend any time on the deck, but it's really nice in the morning. Coffee, anyone?