night, vdara

glass flowers, bellagio

aria, late & early

september shadows

Shadows on downtown Portland's mod 60's Data Processing Building, the low & mostly windowless building attached to the Wells Fargo Center by a groovy skybridge.

This building would have originally held a ginormous mainframe computer, water cooled, with an insatiable appetite for punchcards, its every need attended to by the high priesthood of the Data Processing Department. And raw processing power dwarfed by that of a modern-day iPod. But at least they built an interesting building to hold it. That tends not to happen in the 21st century, although on the flip side modern IT departments no longer have theological aspirations. Or at least nobody outside IT buys into them anymore.

haddock & chips

From the Frying Scotsman cart at SW 9th & Alder, downtown Portland. There's other fish on the menu besides haddock, but that's the traditional fish in Scotland, so that's what I had. This humble blog isn't really a food blog, and I don't really do reviews, but I would happily recommend this, especially with another cold wet dreary winter coming up. Also, don't be afraid of the HP sauce.

If you're really looking for reviews, take a look at the writeups at Food Carts Portland, Yelp, & Willamette Week.



I haven't yet tried the deep fried Mars bar, but I'm sure I will before too long. I'm not trying to be hip or ironic here. I had a deep fried Twinkie a while back at a place in downtown Las Vegas, and that turned out to be quite delicious. I've also had deep fried dill pickles at a bar somewhere in NW Portland (if I remember right). From what little I remember of the evening, I seem to recall thinking they were ok, but they really ought to have used better pickles. The WW piece also mentions deep fried haggis as a possible future menu item. And I'd happily try that too. But first, more fish.

night, keller fountain (ii)

night, keller fountain (i)

Ring of Time

A few photos of one of my favorite public art pieces in town, "Ring of Time", by Hilda Morris. It's not strictly public, mind you; it sits in front of the Standard Insurance Plaza building (not to be confused with the nearby Standard Insurance Center, which has The Quest out front), and it dates back to an era when companies liked to appear cultured, highbrow even, and wanted to be seen as public-minded members of the community. As part of that effort, they often spent far more than strictly necessary on office buildings and art to decorate them. You don't often see that anymore, for reasons that aren't entirely clear. It may be that an ostentatious building no longer convinces the public that the business inside is solvent and soberly run, so you can't justify all the glitz as a business necessity anymore. If the savings from not buying highbrow art resulted in lower insurance rates for consumers, I suppose that might be a reasonable tradeoff. But something tells me the money goes to CEO bonuses instead. I don't have proof in hand, but it just stands to reason.

I realize some of the photos look a tad crooked. I'd like to blame it all on the building sitting on a slope, and insist the photos really are framed straight up and down. Not totally sure that's the entirety of the problem, but hey. The earth isn't here to argue, so that's the explanation I'm going with.

From the interwebs:

• A post about it at Portland Public Art. Note the comment by a 5-years-younger yours truly, agreeing that it strongly resembles the "Guardian of Forever" in a certain classic Star Trek episode. I can see how a mysterious time portal could be useful to an insurance company. They could send "adjusters" back in time whenever someone was about to do something stupid and expensive, and slap them silly until they promised not to do whatever they had in mind. And I suppose if you don't have access to a genuine time portal, parking a nonfunctional replica out front is the next best thing. I suppose. Given what little I know about the insurance business, I mean.
  
• The Smithsonian Art Inventory page for the sculpture.
  
• A retrospective on works by Hilda Morris.
  
• And a list of her major shows, commissions, etc..
  
• Portland Oregon Daily Photo has two posts about it. The first one refers to it as an "onion ring", which is a fairly apt and delicious description. The second discusses it a little more, and goes on to explain the weather beacon atop the Standard Insurance building. I really think the weather beacon is overkill, btw; they could just leave it flashing green all the time, for "precipitation, no change", and it would be accurate at least 75% of the time.
  
• two photos on Flickr.
  

The conservative scold guy who loved The Promised Land (the cheesy pioneer art in Chapman Square) hates Ring of Time. I realize modern abstract art is an acquired taste, but as a rule you can't go too far wrong by liking the opposite of whatever he likes. If I ever met the guy for some reason, not that I'm eager to, I'm likely to demand "Why do you hate onion rings?" the way neocons used to say "Why do you hate freedom?".

Mmmm.... onion rings....

 

more september leaves

river legend (packed for storage)

Back in November '07, I discussed the obscure "River Legend" sculpture hidden behind downtown Portland's Edith Green - Wendell Wyatt Federal Building. The building's now about to undergo a very ambitious and expensive renovation, with the west side of the building supposedly becoming a giant hanging garden, and the building as a whole being retrofitted with all sorts of trendy sustainable goodness. So as part of this, River Legend has to go into storage. This seems to involve first wrapping it tightly in some sort of plastic wrap, followed by encasing it in some sort of hard foam substance.



I haven't yet seen what the future plans for it are, if that's even been determined yet. Maybe they'll just put it back in its current location, returning it to its current state of obscurity. I've seen old photos of the building that indicated the sculpture was originally in front of the building and was later moved to the back, so I suppose they could do that too. None of the architectural drawings I've seen include anything that resembles a groovy 70's stone arch, though.

Option 3, I suppose, is that it disappears into the private collection of some oily rich well-connected insider. There it will hang on a wall, forever entombed in foam, Han Solo style.