More Fun with Insanity

Posted on July 23, 2009 by Tom Harold

I shot this on the way home from work. I was doing about 20mph.

I took some more photos at work today at lunch, but I like this one better. There was an accident off to the side of the road, and I grabbed the camera off the floor and just shot out the window as I drove by just to see what I would get. It’s not masterpiece, but I like it. Something is obviously happening here.

I’ve officially gone over the deep end, people. I’ve lost my mind completely. Not only am I apparently going to start shooting and posting one picture a day, tonight after work I went to a photography club meeting for the first time. It was a trial, but, unfortunately, I really enjoyed it, meaning that I want to start going again, meaning that I’ll want to shoot more pictures, hang out with more people, enter some contests, try and get some work, have a generally awesome learning experience. This could be serious. I could die of exhaustion in the next two to three months. Drag racing, writing, photography, sculpture, acting…yep, dead soon. However, I’ll be very happy when I go.

That reminds me, I found out I got a speaking part in the zombie movie (8 Wheels of Death – remember that!)! Woohoo! I get to be “Dad” and fight off zombies with a severed roller derby referee’s leg! How much fun is THAT?!?!?! You wish you were me, admit it.

Lunch Break Photography, and Insanity Begins

Posted on July 22, 2009 by Tom Harold

Shot out in front of my office while on lunch.

I am most certainly losing my mind. I have been doing photography for the past two years or so, but last week I bought a photography magazine just for the heck of it, just because it caught my eye while I was looking at car mags and trying to figure out which of those I’d like to do work for.

Then I’m on the web, looking up photography stuff, finding online communities that are sharing their stuff. Then I’m reading about this “One Picture a Day” project that some people have done, and it’s sounding cool.

Right. Sure. I totally need ONE MORE THING to add to my list of projects, and this “one more thing” has to be done every single day!

Anyway, here’s the first nail in my coffin. Pretty nail, isn’t it? I shot it yesterday at lunch. It was raining, and I wanted to take a picture, so I went out in the middle of a break in the drizzle (a break that conveniently occurred right on my lunch hour), and took this photo. Some day I’ll learn how to use Photoshop Elements and tell you long and boring stories about how I “adjusted the levels” or “worked on the saturation a bit.” For now you get, “I took this today.”

Anti-Perfectionism with Photography

Posted on June 25, 2009 by Tom Harold

From time to time I’ve tossed up pics on the ol’ blogwall here to see how they stick. Mainly they’ve been illustrative in nature, and I guess that’s probably due in large part to the fact that I got a degree in Journalism and spent a good deal of my time learning how to create pictures that tell a story.

Sometimes, however, you just want a picture that makes a statement all its own. I have no idea if I possess an ability in that regard, but I still take a stab at it, but I’ve not often posted those results up here on thatstom. I suppose largely that’s due to the fact that I’m a perfectionist, and usually look at them and go, “Uh…suck!” The enemy of the creative spirit is perfectionism, and I’m a victim of it as much as anyone else out there, and on occasion far more than is healthy. Perfectionism is responsible for that voice that says, “Nah, you suck. That sucks. You’re not good enough. You might be good, but other people are better. People will laugh at this stuff. Who are you to think that you might even possibly be capable of doing something decent. You’re wasting your time!”

Perfectionism, it’s one of the most powerful anti-creation forces in the universe. It’s what makes us not start projects, or start projects but never finish them. (Hey, if you never finish something, it’ll never be imperfect, right? What a great excuse not to do something!) I have often fallen victim to perfectionism, and for years I thought it was actually a good thing, that it helped me create stuff that was very exacting and of good quality. I didn’t realize how often, by comparison, it kept me from trying new things I really wanted to try, from experiencing the joy of a completed work, or of basking in some justly-deserved praise. Perfectionism kept me from creating, and, as such, kept me from the very healthy practice of being myself! This, in turn, creates all kinds of other unpleasant negative feelings. Overall the whole thing’s just a bad deal, and I’m pretty much done with living my life being governed by negative feelings such as those.

Taking action is an outstanding way of dealing a blow to the negativity of perfectionism. Me not sharing some of my photos? Not a good thing. A very simple way for me to take action is just to put a few of them up here without worrying if they’re perfect or not. I achieved a massive victory this evening of simply flipping through a few photos from the past couple of years and picking whatever ones caught my eye without obsessing (too much!) over how fantasti-wondeful they were. And now I’m putting them up here for all of you, my Awesome Readers/Viewers, to take a gander at.

The following are just a few random images that seemed to at least sort of show some promise. Critique, lambaste, judge, wrinkle your nose, smile, roll your eyes, whatever strikes your fancy. Hopefully there is a little enjoyment to be had from them. I don’t know where any of this work is headed, I just know that I’m supposed to be doing it. If I’m not sharing it, then it’s not doing me any good. I’m my own worst critic, and it’s a good idea to get some feedback on occasion, because sometimes I may be wrong about me. Now enjoy, and feed back!

Crate Expectations

Posted on June 8, 2009 by Tom Harold

It's art! In boxes!

I got a call from my friend Darrell the other day. He said, “There’s this art installation going on down near Mass Ave.”
“What is it?” says I.
“They’re doing art in these giant metal shipping crates. You want to go?”

Now, I have no idea what constitutes an art installation, and wasn’t really sure exactly how this worked in conjunction with metal shipping crates. I didn’t know how “giant” the size would be, or what we’d be looking at, or why it was so interesting or novel. It would all have been a scheme from which to tempt five dollars from my thin little wallet. I didn’t know.

“Yes,” I said.
Given that I knew nothing, it seemed like I must find out, and now, so shall you.

The basic deal was that they had brought out six of those big shipping containers that you always see out by a dock somewhere. These weren’t crates as you normally think of them. They weren’t square boxes, cubes. These were those big, long, corrugated metal things. The containers open at each end, and they were divided in the middel, so one container would hold two different exhibits.

Here’s an overall view of a few of them:

I wish I had some more images for you, but at art shows it’s kind of a courtesy not to take pictures of someone’s art work (’cause it’s like, you know, stealing!). I was able to get at least a partial view of one of the more interesting ones, and you can see Darrell taking part below.

You actually lay down on this thing (it was explained to be likened to an MRI) and then it carried you prone into the display and then back out. It was pretty freaky. There were some video screens with images being played over them plus jumbled audio messages being played at the same time. It was weird, kind of cool, kind of scary, and definitely met up with some of my expectations for the event. Some of the other displays were nice, but not quite so much what I was expecting. Some of the artists seemed to use the space more as a standard type of display area, and I guess I was expecting a little more wackiness out of the whole thing.

Darrell mentioned that often times an installation is geared more toward the use of the space as a whole and making it into an area of complete expression, a space that defines and identifies itself separate from the area around it. One work that did this pretty well had a curtain over the entrance, and when you went inside the whole friggin’ interior looked like a pine forest! There were tree-like posts set about, the three available walls all had black and white charcoal drawings of the forest, and the floor was covered with real pine boughs, needles, and pine cones. There were sounds piped in of wind and birds. It was pretty cool. The only thing that kind of brought down the effect a little was the fact that it was still daylight, and the inside of the container was warm rather than the coolness that the visuals implied.

There were some that were involved, but didn’t reach so far. One exhibit looked like a front yard leading to someone’s porch. There were flowers and stepping stones and old steel lawn furniture, and the back end of the exhibit even had a real wood front door. It was well done, but, well, you kind of looked at it and went, “Cute. Front yard.” It didn’t really go any farther than that.

Another was set up like someone’s living room, with a bunch of early sixties period furniture. The artist was displaying a number of small paintings on the walls of yet more home furnishings, explaining that she had bought them in some vague fit of nesting, but never had anywhere to use them in her tiny apartment, so she’d painted them, hung the paintings, and then put the goods in storage “pretty much in a container like this one.” She was fun to talk to. Later on as Darrell and I passed by the exhibit again I looked in and saw her and her friend sitting down to eat dinner at the couch at the back of the display, food set out on the coffee table. I got the eerie feeling that I was looking at a living room plunked down in the middle of an empty lot. It was probably the best moment I had during the whole experience where her art became reality for a few minutes.

Overall I had a good time. Since I’d never been to an installation, it was just fun to get out and see something new and different, even if not every exhibit was uber fantastic or mind-blowing.

After we’d taken in the show Darrell wanted to walk around a bit, so we headed down the street and I snapped some pictures along the way:

There was a church nearby, and I liked the look of the sun on the brick. I think black and white would have done a better job with this, but it was fun messing with the angles. Darrell and I as well as some other artists at the show, all remarked that this building would be outstanding as a set of lofts or studios for artists. It’s been empty for quite some time apparently.

Another view of the church with some vegetation gamely vying for living space.

Rigging shop. I just love that sign. They probably sell stuff here with cool names like “turnbuckle.”

Hook. Giant hook. Couldn’t walk by it without taking a picture. I kind of want this hanging in a big workshop. I wish I had a workshop big enough in which to hang it!

Hope you enjoyed the tour, kids. Sorry I’ve not been producing much on my own lately. It’s been a challenge. I’m hoping this changes in the near future. I hope you are all finding some inspiration of your own so that you too can “stay creative.”

Easter – Color and Design

Posted on May 2, 2009 by Tom Harold

Spent Easter with the fam as I am wont to do, and we performed the highly-anticipated ritual of coloring eggs. This was, needless to say, a perfect opportunity for everyone to indulge in a little creativity.

In my family the whole egg-coloring deal has held to tradition for decades. This means that we’re almost notoriously steadfast users of the Paas line of vinegar-scented chromatic madness. While there have been years where a crazy new idea came out (thinking of the year my older sister came up with some way of using food coloring and vinegar for these fabu starburst effects), we generally just stick with the tablets, some warm water, and then try and do everything we can to get the most out of the basic materials.

Here are some of this year’s results:

We had a bunch of fun this year, and mostly we let the kids do whatever they wanted to do, and the adults kind of goofed around with it. I recall in years past we had some pretty amazing results, but we were laid back about it this year. I’m probably the only one who was bothered about it, as I tend to take five times longer than anyone else in search of the “perfect” design, color, and style. (Yes, by now you are all familiar with how I can take something simple and overdo it. One year at a jack-o-lantern carving party at someone’s house I took as long to do one as everyone else did to do two of them. I’m sure my obsessiveness is entertaining. You’re welcome.)

Getting a closeup on these, you can see better how we work with our limited resources. You have to get pretty creative (awesome!) with your execution when your coloring depends largely on dunking an oblong shell-coated embryo into a coffee mug full of tinted water. There’s the whole half-in-one-side/half-in-the-other-side, and then of course you can go for the “suicide” effet – putting the egg into every single color on the table, but after you’ve covered some of the obvious tricks you begin to want to reach for something a little different. Okay, maybe you don’t, but I do, and so does some of my family, apparently.

The first one on the right was done by putting the egg in multiple colors, then removing it, patting it dry in a few spots with a towel, and submerging it again. This thing looked fantastic when it was done. It had a crazy purple/gray/blue thing going on. My sister’s friend did it. I thought it looked almost like concrete. It was awesome.

Above is a closeup of the ones I did. The foreground one was partly accident-related. Before I got hold of it it had been dropped. Didn’t matter, I love the way colors react around the damaged area. Check out how the blue has come out of the green at the cracks. Super sweet. Look further up toward the top and you can see a spiral that wraps around the egg. I got that by using a crayon and drawing on it, then submerging it.

The one with the wacky stripes on it came from putting the egg in read for a short time, then pulling it out and letting it dry a little, then wrapping rubber bands around it in random patterns and putting it back in, this time in purple. Rubber band ones are always fun.

The orange and yellow one was another crayon work. I put it in yellow and then scribbled all over it with crayon. When I put it back in I used red. I left it in a really long time, and the colors turned out nice and vibrant on that one.

And now for a little photo instruction. Check out these two photos:

and:

Have you sometimes wondered why your photos look like snapshots and not photos? A lot of it is in the lighting. The first (really cute!) photo was done next to a sunny window. You can see that the left half of the face has a nice, soft light to it. Skin tones look great, and it adds a lot of character to the photo.

The second photo looks fine, but the lighting is just…flat. It doesn’t do anything. This one was shot from a different angle, and the on-camera flash was used. Now, most on-camera flash is harsh and bright. Works great over a large variety of situations, and does a wonderful utilitarian job of getting illumination into all kinds of spots so you can see the subject in a dark room. However, it’s not the kindest of light. It’s flat, and it has no “color” so to speak. It makes pictures look like the one immediately above.

My little quick tip for you is if you’re trying to take a picture and make someone look as fab as possible, put them next to a window with some indirect lighting. This will soften wrinkles and round all kinds of unpleasant edges. Sunlight also has very nice color to it and won’t make the subject’s skin look pale or blue or any other number of undesirable shades.

My other nifty little tip is this: if you are using a point-and-click camera, and you do have to use the on-camera flash, but you really want to soften things up a bit, tape a piece of disposable tissue paper of the the flash. How many times you double it over is up to you, but try it out for fun some time and see how it looks. You’ll be amazed at how much nicer it appears.

They sell things like this for certain cameras. They’re called diffusers. You can’t get them for most pocket cameras, nor would you really want to mess with one, but in some situations it can be pretty cool, like if you’re at grandma’s 80th, and you want to get her with mom, and you want to take just a minute or two extra and get that quick shot where everyone will go “Aw…that looks great!” forever after.

When I was in college I couldn’t afford a diffuser for my zippy little mounted flash on my Nikon. I hated the harshness of the flash so much I ran around with a handkerchief rubber banded to the flash always. I never took it off, and I always preferred how that stuff turned out.

Hope you all enjoyed the recent holidays and that you had a chance to do some playing and have some creative fun.

Great Cut Out ’08 – Setting 61 Heads On Fire

Posted on November 2, 2008 by Tom Harold

First off, it’s Sunday just before 1pm, and I’m amazed that I can turn and look out the window into the front yard and all 61 of those dudes are STILL sitting on my lawn. I live in a great neighborhood. There have been at least a couple of parties on my block this weekend with various drunken zombies (and slutty policewomen and Little Red Riding Hoods) running around, and yet my little orange lawn ornaments remain untouched. Pretty cool.

I’ll see if I can’t keep this short. We’re here for the pictures, aren’t we? I got home Friday from work and immediately…took a short nap. I was exhausted from staying up late and carving the last three pumpkins the night before, plus cutting some wood for the display.

My friend Cat was up from Terre Haute on business, and she stopped in just moments after I woke up from my nap and we set about getting things in order. It took a while, because it’s pretty hard to pick up and carry more than one jack o’ lantern at a time, so we each made about fifteen trips off the porch to the front yard. We got them all set up, and then the little neighbor kids came by for candy, and the littlest ones (maybe three years old) started teetering and tottering between all of them picking off the lids when they saw Cat doing it. “I help!” one little boy kept saying. It was cute as all get-out, but I was really worried he was going to fall headfirst into a row of six or eight of them. His dad rescued him and the gourds before damage was done.

After about an hour we had them all set up and the candles were installed. Here’s a little tip for those of you contemplating such an undertaking: get some of those long-nosed butane lighters. Funks was a genius and a life-saver last year when he showed up with two that he’d purchased just because, well, I guess he thinks a lot further ahead than I do. Those things saved us probably twenty minutes of matches, burned fingers, and lots of cussing.

Finally, all 61 were lit, and we got the lids put back on, stepped back, and, well, I’ll let the pics tell the rest of the story. (all clickable)

$61 Jack O\' Lanterns!$

A blaze of Halloween glory!

This one is leering. Always good to have some leering on Halloween.

My friend Tina did the one on the left, and Meg did the one on the right.

This is one of mine. I’m a fan of big eyes and large mouths. They show up really well in the dark.

I did this one, but I got very good advice from a couple of people on the teeth. I was going to carve them in reverse of how I did it here, but it looks much better this way. Thanks, guys!

This looks like an Ed Roth cartoon to me.

Tim P. did this one. It got a lot of compliments. Andrew told me that in the middle of this one there was an, “Oh no. I don’t know if I can pull this off” moment. Obviously he overcame his obstacles.

Joe’s wife Kathy did this one. She was the first person to ask for toothpicks. The detail was awesome.

Me without coffee.

Great capturing of expression here.

One of Tim P’s specialties is the winking eye. It’s becoming his trademark.

I absolutely love the eyes on this one. I never would have conceived this design myself. My buddy Squee is responsible here.

Jem, my truly outrageous friend did this one. Much detail. Excellent curves on the eyes and eyebrows.

Squee did the one on the left with the three eyes. I once again envy her eyeball majesty. I don’t recall who did the one on the right, but it was really friggin’ creepy once it was lit.

Me with all my kids. Woohoo! Pulled it off again this year!

The morning after. You can get a good look at the finished project, and see some that I didn’t get shots of, or shot too poorly to post. Folks really were outstanding with their contributions of time and money (I didn’t pay for all these myself). Mom and pop were great for getting the pumpkins for me. My friends were wonderful for all their creative ideas, for putting time into it, for being enthusiastic, for being positive and having a good time, for helping me clean up(!!!!!), for showing up multiple times (especially if I goofed and misinformed them of the schedule of events somehow), and for just being the cool people they are.

Thanks again to all of you who participated! You contributed to an outstanding and fulfilling piece of fun and creativity. I do hope you will all return armed and ready next year. I think we’re gonna do ninety, so I’ll need the help!

Artist Date #7: Children’s Museum – Art Glass, Rhoads Sculpture, Comics

Posted on October 30, 2008 by Tom Harold

I’ve had my mind on the Children’s Museum of Indianapolis for quite some time. They have a rolling ball sculpture there that was the genesis for all my sculpture madness at present, plus they have an exhibit on vintage comic books. One or the other alone would have gotten me out of the house, but with both it was a sure thing that somewhere in this twelve weeks that is The Artist’s Way I would have found a way to make it there for an Artist Date.

When you first step into the main part of the Children’s Museum, you come face to face with this enormous art glass sculpture. At 43 feet, the sheer size of it is impressive. It’s the largest permanent installation of blown glass anywhere. My friend works at the museum, and I joked with her once about how they clean the thing. She replied rather seriously, “Oh, they have a crew that comes in and does it regularly.”

It weighs 18,000 pounds, and took over 14 days to install 4,800 pieces of glass to build it. You can get some idea of the intricacy of the whole thing with this closeup. An assembly photo at the site showed the blown glass pieces being slide onto metal stakes that protruded from a central metal column. The scope of this project is astounding – makes me want to try something! (Um, like maybe carving sixty pumpkins for Halloween?)

I’ve mentioned this in previous blogs, but my current (and quite possibly eternal) fascination with rolling ball sculpture was sparked by a trip I made to the Children’s Museum about five or so years ago. I went with my nieces and their mom, my older sister. It was really just a trip to have fun. I didn’t have anything in mind, except I always personally liked the science exhibit. My niece Abby was extremely excited that “We’re gonna make a boat!” The boat turned out to be a few pieces of that styrofoam like they use for meat packing trays, and we taped it together with some straws. I admire the mind of a child for thrilling in such simple pleasures. Honestly, she made it seemed like we were about to construct a battle cruiser with working weaponry and a functional engine room.

When we entered the area of battleship/foam raft construction my eyes came upon one of the most fantastic things I’d ever seen in my entire life:

The George Rhoads rolling ball sculpture, Science in Motion. Incidentally, you won’t find any of that information readily available anywhere near the exhibit itself. There is this:

But you have to look for that to find it. I didn’t even notice it, and the sign next to the exhibit says that it’s a “Rube Goldberg ball machine” or something like that, and that it’s in operation thanks to…individuals or some company which escapes me. I was actually bummed that it didn’t mention George or any of his other work. That befuddles me somewhat. He’s a pretty well-known kinetic sculptor. (I found out what I know about it by doing multiple internet searches, and finally exchanging emails with one of Rhoads’ staff members.)

Be that as it may, at the time I wasn’t concerned quite so much with its origin. I was more amazed that such a thing actually existed. I hadn’t seen anything like it in recent memory, and it just reached out and grabbed 100% of my attention. There was so much to it that appealed to me:

1. Its inherent sense of fun and playfulness. It said, “Behold! I am a machine upon which much time was spent in construction so that I may perform the extremely important task of…being entertaining! Woohoo, I am a machine for fun! Watch me! Play with me!” Children need no encouragement whatsoever to grab and twist the knob that imparts action onto the long, pale blue screw lift for this portion of the sculpture.

2. The fact that such great care and attention to detail went into it. Bending the wire alone had to have taken much patience and forethought. Add to that the fact that certain moving elements of the sculpture required their own specific exacting calculations. In the picture above, for instance, you can see a green wire basket to the left. Notice the ball falling into it? Notice also that there is a metal pad at the lower middle of the frame. The ball has just finished leaving the track, bounced (with a fabulous *gong!* I might add) off of that square purple pad, and landed perfectly inside the wire basket. Who spent time figuring all that out?!?! To catch a moving ball?! Brilliant!

3. The creativity. Look below at the number of different elements the sculpture employs. This sculpture is not just about balls rolling here and there on some fancifully bent rails. Numerous different devices were created to manipulate the billiards in interesting ways.

A. Bell-ringing tipper arm: At the back of the sculpture you see the yellow bell. Swinging away from it is a mallet on an arm, and at the top of the mallet arm we see that there is a billiard being carried from an upper track to a lower track by the arm. Once it reaches the lower track it will fall free, the arm will swing back, and the bell will be rung. A serious bell-ringing apparatus!

B. Ball-collecting tipping arm: As the billiards come in on the track at the upper left they fill a catchrail that is balanced so that it points upward on its fulcrum. Once enough balls collect on the catchrail, however, the arm tips downward, emptying all five balls at once onto a lower track. The result is a delightful train effect of balls chasing each other down the track.

C. Corkscrew: The balls chase each other from the catchrail and race down this corkscrew in a visual and auditory flurry. Colors and noise! Bring it!

D1. Music and Motion, Chimes: Here a set of flat, tuned metal chimes are suspended so that they form the base of the track for the balls. If you look toward the right you can make out the blurred ball racing over them, and you’ll notice the chimes are hanging at angles as they are rung during its passage over them.

D2. Music and Motion, Wood Blocks: Here you can just make out a white billiard tripping the first of three forks that protrude up between the track rails into the path of the ball. As a fork is pushed down, the sounding arm rocks back, after which it most naturally swings back and gives the wood block a satisfying little *thock*! The mallet heads on the end of the sound arm? Golf balls. I love the use of so many different objects!

E. Interacivity: In both photos above you can see how portions of the sculpture can be manipulated by viewers. In the first one a girl raises a ball that is caged in a chute of stout metal bars. The billiards collect at the bottom, and they will not continue along that portion of the sculpture unless they are moved by hand. Children have a great time lifting them to the next level and sending them on their way.

In the second photo there is a tilting green lift that is operated by a knob turned by hand. As shown here the knob is being turned by a young boy and the lift has reached its full height and is realeasing a ball onto the track above it.

F. Displayed laws of physics: Newton’s law of motion is shown here. Three balls remain at rest on this particular dip in the track. When a new ball comes along at the left it smacks the other three, and the one to the right takes off, sending another ball along, but always leaving three behind.

F2. Motion and rest: This one is a harder to see, but in the rectangle there are no downward angles. All rolling surfaces are tracks, though the corners have angled pieces to encourage a rolling ball to continue its journey. The balls enter at the top and are forced to go either right or left by a wedge placed below the point of entry, and they zig-zag their way from the end to the middle where they drop down to the next level. They don’t have a lot of momentum, so sometimes they end up coming to rest as you see two of them doing in the lower right corner. Eventually one ball will come along that will have enough juice that it will smack a few around and send them down. It’s a little unnerving to watch, because you want them all to go RIGHT NOW! Doesn’t work that way, I’m afraid. It’s a bit of lazy motion on this one, and patience is required.

G. Active track splitters: There are a number of active splitters on the track, and this pendulum is a very simple one. One moving part. Balls come along often enough that they keep the pendulum swinging. It has a post at its top center point, seen just to the left of the arriving ball in this photo. This ball will be prevented from rolling to the left by the post, and when the pendulum swings back it will tilt over and roll the ball to the left.

H. Track splitters without moving parts: How can you possibly make a ball choose a right or left course without using some machinery to guide it? When the balls fall from the upper track, they aren’t forced to go one way or another. The landing area is basically flat. When the balls fall down they run into each other and are forced to go one direction or the other without employing any outside forces to direct them along a certain path. Here you can see the striped ball is being forced off to the right by the presence of the green one already sitting below it. I like this trick in particular, as it induces an action without adding any more machinery to the sculpture itself, simplicity of design in action.

I. Automation: I’m a gearhead for certain. Nothing like having a little electrical motor powering up a chain lift! The sculpture contains two separate runs, each with multiple tracks. This run is completely motor-driven, so it will continue with its operation even if no one is around. Its motion attracts people who can then activate the hand-powered run.

J. Track Variety: Not all of the track is made up of steel rail. This portion incorporates pieces of metal U-channel down which the ball drops. Not only is it fun to watch it change direction at sharp angles, there’s also plenty of thunking going on as it drops from one section to the next.

Here is a final end view of the sculpture. It’s fully encased by plexiglass, which is a good thing, because kids pretty much just want to bang on it when they see it, which you gotta take as a good sign. If they gave it the once over and walked away? Not so good. It’s nice to see people want to be a part of what they are seeing, even if it’s along the lines of “Hey! Move! Go!” There was plenty of laughing, giggling, ogling and grabbing going on at the Rhoads sculpture.

I just basically stared at it for over an hour. I’m very grateful that such a source of inspiration is so readily available to me. Even though some of the mystery was gone compared to the first time I saw it (now I know how some of the designs are accomplished), that doesn’t mean I enjoyed it any less. I took away another completely new set of experiences that will surely provide inspiration and motivation for my future sculpting efforts. I so can’t wait to get another one completed!

There was still some time left before the museum closed, so I headed over to the comics exhibit. Along the way I swung by the merry-go-round and snapped some pics using a slow shutter speed.

I used to love to ride on this thing when I was a kid. It used to be outside at a park that is not far from my house. For many years there was a ring of concrete still in place at the park marking where it had been years ago. I’m amazed that it survived and could be restored years later. It makes me a little wistful for times past. My dad has told me on a number of occasions about various amusment parks that used to be around the city. We had roller coasters, boat rides, carousels. He even has a few old photographs of some of the rides before they were torn down. Kind of sad that we don’t have them anymore. My city has obviously gone through many changes in its lifetime.

I had to stop off at the comics exhibit, seeing as how I spent a short period of time collecting them in grade school. I was an X-Men fan, but you cannot deny the allure of a superhero of any stripe. Since I’ve started fooling around with drawing again, I’m also interested in the art aspect of things.

Batman’s Batmobile has changed markedly over the years. Personally, I’ve always been fond of the original, seeing as how it was a Barris custom creating, and I believe morphed from what was originally a Ford Thunderbird. If memory serves, it was put on the dragstrip once, and it had so much metal in it from the customizing procedures, it managed a rather miserable elapsed time. Guess that’s why the rocket was added in back. My favorite feature on this latest edition is the set of Hoosier front tires. That’s right, the Caped Crusader rides on tires straight outta the Heartland.

It’s the real cape! The real one from the TV show!!! Sweet! If I put this thing on, I’d have to try and scale a wall or right some sort of wrongdoing. Maybe I’d just hang out in the Batcave and let the Boy Wonder handle the tough stuff.

Unforunately, I arrived late, and they were shutting off the light tables for the Draw a Superhero activity. No way! I wanted to draw! Oh well, maybe next time.

The Artist’s Way talks about the need to “refill the well” of creativity by experiencing new things to spark your imagination. Thanks to this trip, I certainly have a store of things to draw from the next time I sit down to create.

Artist Vacation Day: Ernie and the Hill

Posted on October 9, 2008 by Tom Harold

The Artist’s Way has some basic tasks you are supposed to do on a regular basis, such as free writing in the mornings, or weekly Artist Dates. There is also a group of ten tasks each week. These tasks change from one week to the next, and you’re supposed to try to do at least half of them each week. This past week one of the tasks was an Artist Vacation Day, where you take not just two hours, but an entire friggin’ day to yourself to go do artsy, creative, way cool things.

Time was tight. An entire day to myself is hard to do, and I often don’t allow myself to have it. As such, I really didn’t want to let this opportunity slip by. There was one big problem, though. I had no idea what to do!

I was sitting with my friend Jay having dinner Thursday night, with my week nearing its end, and no real satisfying plans. “I could go around town and shoot graffiti all day,” I said, “but what I’d really like to do is find a vintage car or motorcycle event to shoot.” Jay, a fan of such things mechanical, agree that would definitely be cool, but I left dinner with no further ideas.

The following morning in the shower, for no apparent reason, I suddenly thought of the Newport Hill Climb, and annual event held in the Indiana town of the same name. Its a colorful bit of Indiana heritage that’s a well-known secret of sorts where vintage cars from the teens up through the 50s vie for a chance at being the fastest to top a huge hill that begins right at the town square. Since none of the cars qualify as rocket ships, it’s a bit like watching a moving car show with plenty of good-natured humor thrown in.

At work I got on the web and did a quick search. I was certain it was not for another couple of weeks, but what the heck, right? Result: Newport Hill Climb, first weekend in October. Bingo.

Forty-eight hours later and I’m heading out west toward Newport. As I’m checking the map I notice that I’m going to pass within a couple of miles of the historic site for Ernie Pyle, famous war correspondent during Word War II. I was already running a little behind schedule, yet it bugged me that I’d spent my entire IU existence in and out of the Journalism building that bears his name, and here I’d never even seen his hometown. That seemed wrong, too wrong to pass up.

I first hit upon a rest area that is named in his honor. I stopped for a few minutes and wondered, “You mean this is it? This can’t be it!” After checking out this monument that was erected in his name, I read a nearby plaque that indicated the actual site was a couple miles down the road. I had to go.

I found the pleasant little house that had been turned into Ernie’s historic site right at the heart of Dana. After checking out the grounds for a minute and still wondering if I should be taking time away from the hill climb, I decided “What the heck,” and rang the bell for a tour.

Probably an hour later (I refused to look at my watch and make myself rush), I walked away with a lot more information on someone who I’d previously thought of as “that soldier who wrote some stuff during the war.” Ernie wasn’t a soldier, for one thing. He was a civilian correspondent, but he spent a great deal of his time on the front lines with the troops. While other reporters were getting the big story on troop movements, fatalities, raids, supply conditions, and all manner of other data, Ernie was sitting in fox holes with infantrymen talking about how satisfying a good cup of coffee could be, musing on the decorations of said surroundings (pinup tearouts), or, sadly, watching men say goodbye to one of their own. He was the eyes and ears of the common soldier, brought forth to the entire U.S. through his regular columns. So important were his words that he appeared on the cover of Time magazine and was invited to take tea by Eleanor Roosevelt.

Ernie was killed by machine gun fire in 1945 on the island of Ie Shima. His works are still prized to this day. Being personally familiar with so little of his writing, I felt it was high time I find out for myself why he is so esteemed. I was particularly happy to find that the book store on site had original, used printings of his collected works. I picked up a well-worn copy of “Here is Your War.” The inside leaf states that the book would normall run to over 450 pages, but “this version has been reformatted to achieve 385 pages, in accordance with war time restrictions.” Inside is a handwritten inscription from a son to his father. The original article can’t help but make these stories that much more real to me.

Setting my new literature in the passenger seat, I turned north and headed toward Newport, Indiana. It was a gorgeous fall day, but the sun was getting low in the sky, and I was a little concerned that it was four o’clock and I’d yet to reach my main destination. Would there be anything left for me to see at this hour? Had I hung the opportunity up when I entered Pyle’s museum?

Heck no. (pics clickable)

Before I even reached the center of town I had an eyeful of some colorful machinery. There were a collection of old cars like this sitting around on lawns and side streets. This little get-up is called a speedster. It’s a modified Ford Model T. This thing has got to be lightning fast, because it has flames! I’ll be it’ll go (gasp!) thirty-five miles an hour!

Here we have the lineup of contenders for the climb. You can see all manner of vehicles in this photo, and the hill goes on so far you can’t even really make it out in the background. In the early days it was a test of the fortitude of a team of horses to see how quickly they could make it to the top pulling a loaded wagon. When cars became more common, a good truck could make it up. A not so good truck? It had to stop partway up and be pulled the rest of the way by the horses! This is how the hill climb began its history many, many years ago.

Prizes are not awarded for paint jobs, but a sense of humor is always greatly appreciated!

As you can see, these aren’t Indy cars we’re talking about here. This pickup gets the “go” signal from the starter. You can just see the yellow light of the starting tree as it begins its descent to the green at the bottom.

Ah, the face of a hardened competitor! (Ninety-one years of age!)

That is not tire smoke. Probably had to refill the oil once he got to the top.

Here’s a fine Ford pickup being backed into starting position. One of the Starting Queens stands nearby. I like the angle on this one. I was some yards away when I took it, lying on the ground and grinding my knees and my elbows into the asphalt, but it came out good.

Here’s a ’40 Ford pickup pulling off the line. I liked the color on this one, and was trying to capture a little bit of the excitement of things – a little hard to do when they’re so darn slow!

As I was shooting I was also taking a look at the folks around me. This old fella was sitting there quietly watching the proceedings while holding his daughter’s hand. Every so often he’d rub across her fingers with his thumb. They didn’t say anything to each other, just held hands and watched the old cars go by.

All that glitters is gold! Yep, they actually hand out awards to the “fastest” of these machines. I have received inside information from a former competitor that the rules are very strict for modifications, but that said rules are often bent a little, and competition is fierce!

A comptetitor (it seems so wrong to call them “racers”), makes his way up the hill as the crowd looks on. Here you get a bit of an idea of the size of the event. It’s pretty sweet that you can just set your lawn chair up by the side of the main drag and watch all these cool cars and motorcycles go by. It’s a sleepy little town, but for one weekend a year it’s full-tilt!

This may well be one of my better photos of the day. The lens I’m using really delivers on these closeup shots. It makes this Studebaker’s front end really stretch out toward you. Gorgeous little car, by the way.

I so dig this license plate. Yes, this guy is going to race up the hill.

The Event Queens fan themselves and kabbitz at the starting line. There were a group of four of them, each seeing off a driver before he or she left the starting line.

Here’s a better view of the long trip up the hill. I don’t know that anyone gets to going more than fifty or sixty miles an hour by the time they reach the top – and some don’t even reach the top!

I don’t even want to think what that sunburn felt like the next day.

There were some vintage motorcycles in attendance, and this Rudge was one of them. I’m not sure I really dig how I composed this one, but I love the look of the old, peeling lettering against the shiny tank.

Here’s a shot of the Rudge set up in the pit area. Again on this one, like the Studebaker picture, that lens of mine is drawing out the rear wheel and making it look a lot more prominent in the foreground. I have a bunch of pics like this from the past couple of years. It hasn’t gotten old with me yet. Being in the shadows for a black machine isn’t ideal, either. You’d really want to see this in muted sunlight, like under some light clouds. Lots of detail just turning into black nothing, unfortunately, but the bike was so bitchin’ I just had to shoot it.

Obviously, I didn’t miss everything. Though I would have liked to have gotten there a little bit earlier, I was able to take in so much, it was absolutely worth my drive. This last shot I took while in the car leaving as I was in the line of traffic to get on the highway. I felt very lucky that a line of old Fords pulled out just ahead of me. I’m not sure if the lighting is right on this one, or if the sun spots on the lens make things worse or add something to it, but I sure do like the composition. If you look just at this little scene, for a minute it feels like you’re in the 1930s.

On my way home I stopped at the Big Berry ice cream shop in Bellmore, Indiana. The young lady at the counter, seeing my camera, said, “Are you a photographer? Cool. That’s what I want to be.” We talked a bit, and she said she wants to attend classes in the future at the Arts Center in Indianapolis. Her eyes lit up as she spoke of it. At that moment, standing there and contemplating a banana split with six hundred shots of wartime heroes, old cars, and sunburn behind me all I could think was, “Man, you got to do that. You so gotta do that.”

Artist Date #3: The Walk

Posted on September 24, 2008 by Tom Harold

I wasn’t sure when Artist Date was going to happen this week. It was kind of a stumble/crash/fail situation early this week with lack of sleep and stupid dental visits and whatnot. I let everything go for a couple of days and just concentrated on getting some sleep. Not sure if that made my universe full of awesomeness, but at least it got me into today where I went, “Yeah, I wanna go do something.”

Tonight I had zero commitments on deck. It seemed like a good evening for…a walk? Yeah, me not the walking guy, and yet this is what came into my head. “Go for a walk, and…um…take pictures? Yeah, that sounds cool.” After feeling like I had way too much crap going on this week, a completely non-hurried walk down the Monon Trail as the sun set sounded pretty friggin’ right-on.

About 7:30 I finally made it out of the house, Nikon over my shoulder. I also had a harmonica on me (those who know me well are not shocked to hear this), so I played a bit until I got down to the actual trail itself. It’s a walking path that was once a rail bed for the Monon railroad many years ago. When I was a kid, trains still used it. It has been turned into a greenway in recent years, which has turned out to be a pretty fantastic idea.

Along the path in the immediate Broadripple area are various works of art, like this wall. Know what’s sad? I didn’t even realize this. It’s been there for how many years, I’ve walked on it maybe three times, and I didn’t know the artwork was right there. This is what this Artist’s Way stuff is all about, discovery of influences and resources that I’ve kept from myself for far to long.

This is painted on the side of a building not far from the art wall. I think this is pretty appropriate, given that the White River is only a few hundred yards from it, and Indians certainly made use of it decades ago.

Lookit all the heads!!!!

The artist must have been a Notre Dame fan. I’ll let that slide.

This poor little mosaic (well, it was pretty large, really) was leaning up against a building near where it had originally been affixed to some posts. Pieces are obviously missing from it. It’s too bad it has fallen into disrepair. The style of work itself, however, reminded me of my friend Justine, who makes gorgeous mosaics, and who is a constant inspiration to me whenever I feel doubt or frustration with my work.

The Monon goes right past the Indy Arts Center, which is also the grounds for the Writer’s Center of Indiana where I recently skipped attend my fiction workshop group. I took some time to tour the grounds and check out the sculptures on display. This one was a huge stainless steel cube with a pleasingly curved concave center section. I like metal, of course, and it’s stainless (even better!), so I snapped it.

Probably the greatest chair ever welded. It’s actually a lounger, complete with cup and foot rest! I had to check it out, and…

Here’s the upward view when seated in the world’s greatest stainless steel lounge chair. I love this thing. I, of course, wondered at how cool it would be if you could roll marbles around all those fabulous curves.

I read about the sculptor who does this vegetation sculpture, but it was several years ago. I wish I could recall more details now. I do remember that these are made to deteriorate. No attempt is made to preserve them, so each work of art exists only for a finite period of time. There’s something wonderful about that, letting nature do what it does, even if it’s to a piece of artwork. For me this sculpture speaks both of how beautiful and temporary life is.

After leaving the Arts Center I went a little further north up the trail to where it uses a trestle to cross the White River. The light was nice that time of night, though a challenge to shoot without being able to use a tripod.

On the way home I spotted this sign. I liked the lighting. The peeling paint adds some nice texture to the whole thing.

Once back in Broadripple proper there was plenty of evening traffic. I always kind of enjoy the streak effect of moving lights with a slow shutter speed. This one was just for fun.

Passing the Vogue, I naturally had to stop and shoot the neon. Hard to resist all the colors. I’ll not be attending Retro Rewind – I’ve had my life’s fill of 7oz Bud Light, thanks. However, I’ll let you all know that Kool Keith will be appearing there in the near future. Get your tickets while they last. This place used to be a movie theater decades ago, and back when I was very small I saw Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs there. They were not serving Bud Light in concessions at that time, I believe.

One more last bit of neonic brightitude. I wish this place was still a theater sometimes. It just looks so cool. I am very glad they never did tear down the signs. I’m also pretty pleased that very recently they pulled down the expressionless white tile that had been in place since before I was born to reveal the old yellow and red tiles that were beneath. Pretty cool stuff.

That was Artist Date tonight, kids. I had a nice time just slowing down and taking a look at things. My photographer’s eye has a long way to go, but I got in some practice tonight and had fun. Now I have a whole new batch of experiences to keep my creativity charged up.

Tom Harold

Writing on creativity and rolling ball sculpture

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