Rooftops of San Francisco

A few photos from one of our less successful vacations, in which we learned why February is considered the off season in San Francisco, tourist-wise (i.e. it's cold and damp, just like Portland, but far more expensive), and why there are plenty of rooms available in the Financial District on weekends (i.e. everything's closed and there's surprisingly little to do.) When all else fails (which will happen sooner or later), you can always fall back on taking photos from your hotel window, which is where these came from.



I have a complicated relationship with San Francisco. Or it might be more accurate to say the city has a complicated relationship with me. When I'm there, tourists always mistake me for a local and ask me for directions. And what's worse, I can usually give them useful directions, because my sense of direction is weirdly attuned to the place. Apparently I cannot get seriously lost within city limits no matter how hard I try. I should point out that my only experience living there was when I was six years old, and we lived elsewhere in the bay area, for less than a year.

Also, during this most recent visit, we were in the museum store at SFMOMA and I noticed that they were featuring a line of wallets made by a Portland designer, and I happened to have an identical one in my back pocket. A few hours later, I was in a shop buying something, and the cashier was moved to marvel at length at my wondrous wallet. If I believed in fate, which I don't, these things would seem like signs.



In short, the city keeps beckoning to me and trying to lure me in. Which might work, if only the city didn't aggravate the hell out of me when I spend more than a day or two there. It feels like everyone you meet desperately needs to be told how extremely special and unique they are, all day, every day, everywhere you go. It rapidly gets exhausting. Apparently everyone's supposed to take a turn at this, and it mystifies people if you don't try to explain who you are and give them a chance to shower you with approval. Or pretend-approval. I'm not sure anyone can tell the difference anymore.



So I've concluded it's a relationship without a future, unless a.) I get my own personal cloaking device, so I can tolerate the locals; b.) I somehow become a multi-trillionaire, so I can afford to live there; and c.) global warming fixes the rather tragic climate, so the place might be habitable (or at least visible) during months not named "October".

Now watch me not hold my breath.



In any case, enjoy the photos...

pumice desert, crater lake

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A few more old mini-roadtrip photos, this time from the Pumice Desert area in Crater Lake National Park. As this article explains, the sparse vegetation is due to poor soil (that would be the pumice part), rather than low precipitation. So I suppose this isn't technically a real desert, although it certainly looks like one. Either way, it's quite a peculiar landscape.

Strength of America

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At the corner of 35th & Belmont, in inner SE Portland, is an old historic fire station that now serves as a firefighting museum. On the streetcorner in front of the museum is this monumentally craptacular statue called "Strength of America", which is supposed to be a 9/11 memorial. You didn't realize we already had one of those, did you?

Portland Public Art describes it with an extra helping of snark:

As a nation we’ll look back on our response to 9/11 in a decade with chagrin, I expect. So many decisions made from fear instead of facts; and some of these were aesthetic as well.

This Doc Savage mock up has his hands full, holding an enormous snake with one hand, and a kerosene lamp in the other. Adjoining him is a US flag and an eagle, wings out swept. For some reason he is shirtless, dressed in jeans and tiny work boots. Surrounding the base are roughed Plexi blocks with names of people killed on 9/11, and the lord’s prayer written in childish script and signed by Caswell.

It’s a blink and a silent WTF? Damn, you’ll say, that’s incongruous for Sunnyside. Then you’ll shift it into the context of 9/11 and list it within that long list of other bad decisions our nation made afterward, we as individuals made.

One quick quibble with that: The words in childish script are actually not the Lord's Prayer, they're lyrics to "God Bless America". You know, the song Kate Smith used to sing before every Flyers riot, er, game.

Nitpicking aside, it really is a very weird statue. Note how it entertains fanciful notions about male anatomy. Look at that moobage, with man-nipples an inch or so too low. And the abs, which stretch all the way up to the moobage, with no intervening rib cage or anything. And the hands, oddly long and skinny fingers all about the same length.

The snake's cool though. I think the snake's supposed to symbolize the Evildoers, slithering about and deviously doing evil with their Weapons of Mass Constriction. Or something. Whatever it represents, the man-n-snake combo invites comparison with other person-n-snake-themed artworks down through the ages -- "Laocoön and His Sons", for example, and who can forget the famous Nastassja Kinski photo with the python?.

The eagle's not terrible either, although it's kind of smiling, which is weird. And it's stealing our hero's flag, which eagles aren't known to do in the wild. Maybe if you took the flag, dunked it in fish innards, and wrapped it around a live salmon, then eagles might take a professional interest. Although then you've defiled the flag and you're supposed to burn it, because them's the rules, fish innards and all, and that would really smell. So let's just agree that the bit with the eagle isn't modeled on real life.

Call me a minimalist if you like, but all in all I think the memorial would've been more effective with just the rubble and the fire helmet, and maybe the tablets with the names.

One thing that surprised me is the size of the thing. The photos I saw made it look bigger than it actually is. In reality it's only maybe 2/3 or 3/4 life size, if that, and like all the other photos I've seen of it, my photos fail to convey this small scale. I'm actually kind of disappointed by the whole thing. With subject matter like this, you naturally expect something a bit more imposing. If the scale matched the sheer melodrama of the thing, our hero here ought to be Paul Bunyan's big brother, and the flag-thieving eagle should be about pterodactyl-sized, and the whole thing would constantly play patriotic country-western songs at 120 decibels. Except on Sundays, obviously.

Based on my limited and biased experience in this area, I'm working on a set of guidelines to help you, the Gentle Reader, determine whether something constitutes Bad Art. Here are the rules so far, as they apply to statues. Abstract art will likely need its own set of guidelines.

• If a statue is painted, it's Bad Art. It's a sign the sculptor wasn't talented enough to get the point across with mere sculpture, and had to layer on a little paint-by-numbers to make the thing work.
• If it's a grouping with more than one person, it's often a sign of badness. In particular, if there are more people than strictly necessary, two or six when one would've done just fine, it indicates the artist doesn't know when to stop piling it on. Also, if people are depicted talking or looking at each other, that's surprisingly hard to get right. They tend to come out looking like brainless idiots, badly sculpted. Whereas if your people are working together (say, raising the flag over Iwo Jima) or just standing in a group (say, riding an elevator), often that can be fine.
• A similar situation applies when there's at least one person, plus one or more animals. Equestrian statues are an exception; they're a traditional form, and they can turn out ok. I suppose because the rider isn't typically interacting with the horse.
• It's also generally bad if one or more children is present, regardless of whatever else is there. Sculptures of children tend to turn out looking kind of weird and creepy, especially if they're smiling. Almost as creepy as 19th century painted portraits of kids, come to think of it.
• If any books are present, and their titles are visible, typically it's bad art. If you're meant to see the books (Bible, Das Kapital, Kerouac, etc.), a heavy-handed message is usually intended, and the artist wasn't able to make the art speak for itself.
• Similarly, if the art comes with a long explanatory plaque or artist's statement, it's usually bad. The art should either speak for itself, or STFU.
• If the artist bungles basic human anatomy, it's automatically bad, even if none of the other guidelines are met.
• If the art dates from before, oh.... say 1800 or so, it gets a free pass, as the product of another culture and another age.

The 1800 cutoff is needed because as it turns out, the aforementioned "Laocoön" clearly breaks the multiple-person and person-and-animal rules, and it's long been speculated that the ancient Greeks painted their statues, which would break another rule. And the two sons, well, they look maybe old enough to escape the no-kids rule. At least nobody's carrying any books. So, in short, make of these guidelines what you will.

Some people might go, wait a minute, the last time you really bashed something for being Bad Art was "The Promised Land" (the crappy pioneer sculpture in the Plaza Blocks), and like "Strength of America" it's conservative Bad Art. Isn't this Good vs. Bad yardstick just your ideological biases showing? Actually no, that's not it. Or that's not completely it anyway. I do have another Bad Art post in the works, this time about a local example of liberal bad art that just might be the most supremely craptastic statue of them all. Here in town, I mean. Any guesses?

Kvinneakt

Yep, the famous "Expose Yourself To Art" statue has finally returned to city streets, after an extended absence due to MAX construction. I posted about it when she was first removed, way back in November 2006, and at the time I speculated she might not be coming back, and might end up in the Pearl District or someone's private collection or something. It occurred to me later that she might not be asked back due to the whole nekkidness thing, so as not to alarm children and suburbanites. But here she is, and this time they've moved her to the corner of 6th and Morrison, right next to Pioneer Courthouse Square, I suppose so the tourists can find her more easily. I do wonder what would've happened if she wasn't famous, though.





The new prominent location is probably also so we can flaunt just how openminded we like to think we are. I have to say, though, that when I was taking these photos more than one person looked at me funny, like I was freakin' Larry Flynt or something. I mean, I'm used to attracting a little attention when taking photos of art downtown. The usual reaction is to look at me, puzzled, and then look at the art with a startled expression as though they'd never noticed it before, and then keep on walking. Generally I like to believe I'm performing a valuable public service by doing this, drawing people's attention to things they've walked past a zillion times without ever really looking at. Drawing people's attention to their tax dollars at work, that sort of thing. And generally I like to believe I'm entitled to massive government grants and subsidies for performing this valuable public service, although not once has anyone from city hall ever called to offer me money, the freakin' ingrates.



But in this particular case I'm not so sure. It occurred to me later that I could've played with the situation a little, talking to the statue like it was a model shoot -- you know, the usual "work it baby, yeah, that's it, a little to the right". If I was more of a ham and actually wanted the attention, that might've been entertaining, I guess.



Another idle concern is whether nekkid art affects how web-filtering services rate this humble blog. I really don't know how that works, since I don't think they explain their methods in any detail. I think it tends to involve a room full of people paid to look at photos all day and categorize them on an "I know it when I see it" basis. So it's a real crapshoot, I guess. I mean, I'm not going to refuse to cover something out of fear that people in Utah (for example) can't get to it at work. But I do think it would be kind of a shame if that happened. And think of the irony -- it would be safe for city streets, apparently, but not safe on the internet. Weird.

Anyway, it occurred to me (and I was mildly annoyed at this point) that if passers-by are going to look at me like a perv for taking these photos, I might as well get a shot of the feet, so here they are:



I haven't taken the time to gather an extensive "stuff from the interwebs" section this time, and there does seem to be less out there about it than you'd expect. Here are the few items I've cobbled together:

• The recent remake of the classic poster, this time starring the Vera Katz statue on the Eastbank Esplanade.
  
  
• three Flickr photos
  
  
• two articles mentioning her in passing.
  

Capitalism (the fountain)

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A few photos of the Capitalism fountain at the Lloyd Center mall, near the corner of NE 9th & Multnomah, just outside the Nordstrom store. The Smithsonian's art inventory page for it is here, and the artist who created it has a website here, although it doesn't seem to mention this fountain anywhere.

The fountain / sculpture was installed in 1991 when the mall was completely renovated, but in spirit it couldn't be more 80's, all postmodern and money-mad and pompous and giddy all at once. It's a real period piece, in its own way similar to the groovy 70's abstract whatzits scattered around the downtown transit mall. If you stare at it too long, music starts to run through your head: "Li-ving-in-a-ma-te-ri-al-world, Li-ving-in-a-ma-te-ri-al-world", and so on. Or maybe that was just my iPod. Sometimes it can be hard to tell. Here's the song, for those of you who don't know what I'm talking about.

I'm finding it hard to do my usual schtick and play amateur art critic about the fountain, since it's such an utterly 80's artifact. It would be like debating whether Nagel prints are good or bad art. The fountain just isn't amenable to this sort of question.

The Lloyd Center mall first opened in 1960 as an open-air shopping center (which has always puzzled me, since I've never heard that the climate was better here back then). It's hard to tell by looking at it now, due to all the renovations and updates over the years, but Lloyd Center was one of the nation's very first modern shopping malls, and when it opened it was the world's largest. Yes, the world's biggest mall, right here in little old Stumptown. In September 1960, the mall's ice rink hosted a campaign stop by then-VP Richard Nixon, who supposedly proclaimed the mall "America's answer to communism". Golly. I suppose that would be the flip side of how Moscow's vast GUM department store was supposed to be communism's answer to the West's decadent, bourgeois consumerism.

Although these excerpted remarks from Nixon's speech don't seem to include that claim, so it may or may not be precisely accurate. Either way, it makes for an interesting bit of local trivia.

And as an extra fun twist, many of the hits that come up when you search for "lloyd center" and "capitalism" are mentions of the recent Michael Moore film, which screened at one of the Lloyd Center theaters earlier this year.

Vernon Ross Veterans Memorial

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At the corner of NE Sandy, Thompson, and 48th Avenue, out in the Hollywood District, is Portland's Vernon Ross Veterans Memorial, a small monument with a very tall flagpole. I'd never heard of it until I ran across a brief mention of it in this brief document from the Parks Bureau, in which we learn when they did maintenance of some sort on various obscure spots around town. I was actually looking for info on the park at Hall & 14th, and the doc didn't tell me anything useful about that place, but it's full of other places I haven't covered yet. When I saw there was some sort of obscure memorial in town that I'd never heard of, I knew I had to track it down.

Or at least I started out by assuming it was obscure, since I'd never heard of it before. But as it turns out, it has a fairly prominent role once a year. Every year, Portland's Veterans Day parade winds through the Hollywood District and ends up right here, and the flagpole serves as the backdrop for speeches by various dignitaries and elected officials, generally including the mayor. This year marked the 35th edition of Portland's parade, the first coming in 1974 -- coincidentally when the Vernon Ross memorial was dedicated. As for the identity of Mr. Ross, the plaque here indicates he was the instigator of the memorial, rather than its subject as I originally assumed. The memorial itself doesn't explain who Vernon E. Ross was or why he was involved, but right across the street is the Ross Hollywood Chapel funeral home, which happens to be the longtime primary sponsor of the Veterans Day Parade. So I think that answers that question.

Updated 3/29/11: Thanks to the magic of the library's Oregonian historical archives, there are a few more details to relay. A July 12, 1974 article is titled Smallest block in city location for memorial. No, really, this spot is legally a platted city block, and it's our smallest, or at least it was in 1974. 48 square feet. The article says Ross bought the plot in part to prevent signs from being erected there. Ross also states that the plot is dedicated to the memory of Louis M. Heinrichs, a fellow World War I veteran.

A followup article on September 18, 1975 covers the donation:

Ross ... said he purchased the 7-by-15-foot piece of land for $3,200 and paid $19,000 to erect the flag memorial.

"The patriotism of our country has gone to the lowest level that it's been in our history," he told the City Council Wednesday.

Mayor Neil Goldschmidt praised Ross' efforts to improve the land as being "in the best tradition" of the city.

Ross died in November 1983. His obituary says he suffered a heart attack during the Hollywood Veterans Day Parade.

For a time the memorial was referred to by name as either "Ross Veterans Memorial" or "Ross Memorial Park", but both had fallen out of use (at least by the Oregonian) by the mid 1980s.

KATU has a short video clip of this year's parade, and there's an article with a photo slideshow at Salem-news.com, although neither piece shows the memorial.

One of the questions I often try to answer about various places is "Who owns it, and who runs it?" Ok, maybe that counts as two questions. Anyway, a few references around the net (like this one) refer to the place as the "Ross Hollywood Chapel Veterans Memorial Flag Pole", but the tiny triangle of land actually belongs to the city. Although my guess is that someone comes over from next door rather than from city hall when it's time to raise or lower the flag here, or tend to the roses. That might explain why the city barely mentions it anywhere on their website. The Parks Bureau doesn't list it in their inventory, for one thing. Also, a few years ago there was a proposal to erect a new war memorial on Mt. Tabor, and as part of the process the city compiled an extensive list of existing veterans memorials across Oregon. It mentions small monuments in the far corners of the state, but fails to mention this one. So we can assume the place isn't exactly on everyone's radar at city hall. Not that veterans monuments are the city's cup of tea, really. The monument, you may note, went up in 1974, at the tail end of Vietnam, and I wonder if it went up in part as a way of shaking a fist at the dirty hippies or something. And then the dirty hippies went on to take over the city and they've been running it ever since. Also, since January we've had a mayor who'd be quickly booted out of the military on account of being gay, and despite that it's still part of his job to put in appearances at events like this. His official blog doesn't mention the event at all, so I don't know how he felt about it, but it must've been deeply weird.

In any case, PortlandMaps knows the place as R259400, 48 square feet of land officially owned by the City Auditor's office. (Although I think that's just a way of saying it's general city-owned land not belonging to any particular department, or they just haven't bothered to record which department it belongs to.) In any case, 48 square feet is pretty tiny, but it still comes to 6912 square inches, compared to 452 square inches of Mill Ends Park. That's 15.3 times bigger. FWIW.