(or Bayou St. John, if you prefer. I prefer alliteration.)
Look who I saw on the bridge that leads to City Park! As we learned in the post A Monster in the Warehouse District, this Monster is the work of Parse Gallery‘s Ricardo Barba. If you wade through the slideshow here, you can you can see IKIL in better days. It seems that the Monster is digesting a lot of trash. I blame Mardi Gras, but who knows, really?
The Monster from behind, at the corner of Carrollton and Esplanade.
I spotted this guy on outside the Contemporary Arts Center a few weeks ago:
I initially decided that he was a baby-eating monster, but upon further reflection he might be a regular monster, eating regular things– we’re just privy to his digestion process. I empathize with him. Like all of us, this monster gets messy when he eats. (Or is that just me?)
He seems like he is made out an old newspaper rack. I’ve read about artists co opting these racks, but this is the first time I’ve seen one. Does anyone know anything about this?
I checked in with him today, after docent training at the Ogden. He’s still there, but it seems like someone had some fun with him. Or perhaps he is just tired from baby eating, and needed a lean?
UPDATE, 2/2/12:According to the CAC’s Associate Director, the robot appeared around the openings of Prospect.2, the citywide art showcase, and the CAC’s NOLA Now Part I exhibition. Eventually, Ricardo Barba from the Parse Gallery’s collective revealed himself to the CAC’s curator. On Parse’s website you can see pictures of Barba’s other newspaper-box sculptures, including one that looks eerily similar to our monster man (in his better days.)
The Parse Gallery (previously unknown to me) (which doesn’t mean anything) is dedicated to building a progressive and playful art community. They’re located on 134 Carondalet street.
It may look like a candy cane, but it’s not! The holidays are heating up around here (it’s 68 degrees at the end of December? I do not understand the weather here) and the city is full of whimsical decorations, such as this one on Magazine. Happy first night of Hanukkah and Merry Christmas everyone!
A few weeks ago I spotted this engraved in the sidewalk outside my Mid-City House. I think my house was built in the 1930s or 1940s, but I assume there was a house before there was a sidewalk.
The Works Progress Administration (WPA) was a New Deal program that employed millions of unskilled workers to carry out public works projects, including the construction of public buildings and roads, and operated large arts, drama, media, and literacy projects. This concrete sidewalk might’ve been practice for the concrete seawall the WPA built on Lake Pontchatrain, when the city embarked on a large land reclamation project.
The WPA also produced this city guide. Many of the sites chronicled are still available today.
New Orleans is infamous for its flooding. But I’m not sure if people realize the affect even a brief storm has on the city. The city’s roads are among the worst in the nation, so you need to watch your step following the daily summertime showers or you’ll end up in a pothole puddle.
This picture was taken on Bordeaux street, by our old sublet.
When I used to live in New Orleans I always got a kick out of this storefront, located at 2501 Airline Drive. I recently dropped someone off at the airport and was delighted to find it still exists.
I always felt sorry for the cartoon crab. His two-different sized eyes and gritted teeth pull at your heartstrings. Poor little guy! He is so cute, even in his last moments. Who would want to eat him, besides the chef from The Little Mermaid?
The Airline Drive storefront reminds me of the logo from Metropolitan Meat, Seafood and Poultry, a company from Landover, MD whose truck I used to see constantly around D.C. These best of friends look so happy. Maybe it’s because the company pardoned the cow, crab and chicken from death, much the way the president pardons a turkey each Thanksgiving.
“Here are my top five memories from the end of my time in DC…seeing the Metropolitan Meat, Seafood, and Poultry truck one last time and knowing that a menage a trois between a lobster, cow and chicken would produce the most delicious offspring, ever.
These animal/crustacean depictions give me pause and force me to consider another attempt to become a vegetarian. However, I’ve tried so many times and I’ve never been able to do it. And I feel New Orleans is not the city to pilot another effort.
Looks like I’ll just keep on eating adorable cartoons.
A few weeks ago I bumped into my friend in the French Quarter. He was wearing what seemed to be a yoga bag, but considering my knowledge of this friend and the fact that we were at the the Louisiana Seafood Festival/Creole Tomato Festival/Zydeco Music Festival, I knew this couldn’t be right.
Turns out that he was sporting a beeracuda, an insulated bag that holds beer. As previously mentioned, New Orleanians come prepared to outside festivals. They’re ready to drink and keep said drinks cool.
I would have never thought such a thing existed. What an amazing invention.
And that it was a Saints beeracuda?
The most New Orleanian of all.
Hi everyone! I’ve been in New Orleans for a few days now. More thoughts and posts coming this week, but I’ve been quite busy settling in.
I was walking around yesterday and caught a very New Orleans site: Mardi Gras float storage. The doors were open, so I snapped a few pictures.
I’m featuring the pictures here as part of an occasional series I will call Lagniappe, which means “a little something extra.” Lagniappe is a very popular term around here.
Catching the float storage facility made me smile. So quintessentially New Orleans! Once, when I used to live here, I got caught in traffic behind Mardi Gras floats that were being transported downtown at about 10 mph. I cursed and shook my fists at them, until I reminded myself that driving behind Mardi Gras floats is something that could only happen in NOLA.
That serenity lasted about five minutes and then I went back to cursing them.
When I first moved to D.C. I thought it was charming to get stuck on a street corner because of a motorcade. How quintessentially Washingtonian! But then I learned that most motorcades aren’t for the president. And then motorcades just became something that made me late. They soon lost their charm.
Will I be able to call myself a New Orleanian once Mardi Gras floats do not delight me?