A quote in todays Chicago Sun-Times, in an exhibit review by art critic Kevin Nance:



"the most common trajectory.... is from documentary realism toward greater or lesser degrees of abstraction, mystery, poetry, symbolism, and magic. Photographers, it seems, tend to get bored with life as it is; they want to show how it might be, or ought to be - or, even better, to reveal the depth beneath its conventional surfaces, the strangeness that was there all along but invisible."



He's talking about work currently at the Art Institute by Avedon, Karsh, Penn, Cartier-Bresson, and more... earlier and later work by each, at least two decades apart, to show their "evolution."



Yeah. The part about depth, especially.... yeah.

From Portland, with an hour to go til my next flight:



There's an article in the Arts section of todays New York Times on hard-core punk, about a recent documentary. Strange reading, because I've met all but two of the guys quoted in the article, or actually a pair of articles. Knew one of those guys very well, and have written/published about three of them myself, but haven't seen any of them since 1982.



The article makes an interesting point, calls hard core a response in part to the dilution of the earlier first wave (actually at least two or three but with overlap) of punk and post-punk. True enough. Most of us just left when the world discovered our music, and the hard core kids instead kept going by appropriating one very narrow niche and taking it to extremes. I was gone by the time their thing really took off, although I did cover the earliest days for one of the 'zines. Too negative for me, too many angry young men pissed off at the system but not willing or able to propose alternatives to actually change anything.



Funny, this sudden interest in hard core. Probably because it's a very well defined, not particularly complex sub-genre, easy to write about in catchy and easy to quote one-liners. Last month I did an interview for NPR on punk, and they kept coming back with hard core questions even though I kept talking about the broader implications of the entire early scene. They want me to return for a follow up interview next month, so apparently I haven't completely confused them yet.

So yesterday morning I'm out on a field meeting, walking through seven foot tall cattails in the middle of a marsh on the way to take a look at endangered dragonfly habitat. There's a guy from U.S. Fish and Wildlife service behind me, and a guy from the landowner, a county agency, leading the way.



The county guys cell phone rings. Less than a minute after he takes that call, the federal guys cell phone rings. So I'm standing in the marsh watching this... and my cell phone rings. It's our mayor, 2,000 miles away, asking whether a particular day and time works for a meeting.



All three of us, in less than two minutes. What are the odds?

Got clear of St. Louis a little later than planned, partially because of work related things and partially because of two traffic jams. In Litchfield IL, jumped off the interstate for lunch at a diner on historic Rt. 66, apparently it's been in that location since 1929. Kind of cute, and the original family still runs it. Too much food, but they are quite friendly. One look at my old Leica and they took turns asking me questions and offering helpful hints on things to see. Unfortunately they seem to be about the only ones in town who get the historical significance thing, Litchfield seems to be pinning it's future on a couple of industrial parks and the usual tacky/ugly fast food row.



I'd done that stretch of old 66 previously, so jumped back on the highway for a while. One of the gentlemen at the restaurant had recommended the Chenoa business district as worth seeing though, and I'd never been off the highway there before. So, needing to slow down a bit anyway to miss the back end of Chicago rush hour, I went exploring.



It's not real easy to find. Chenoa is a few exits north of Bloomington-Normal, closer to Pontiac. Old Rt. 66 parallels I-55, running a little to the east of the interstate, and then the old business district is yet a little more east of 66. As with most of these towns, the business district is along the railroad. In this case, it's nearly deserted. Beautiful old brick buildings, plenty of character, half the storefronts either empty or just not open. There were a few cars going by, but very few people out on the streets. Everything was clean and tidy, just not very busy. After driving around for a few minutes and taking photos, I saw a sign on one store that said "coffee" and another one that said "open." Caffeine break.



Inside Minnie Marie's Coffee House, it was spotless, and the coffee was pretty good. When I mentioned to the proprietor that I think Chenoa is a cute town (if not a very busy one), she was gracious but seemed a little surprised, as if she doesn't hear that very often. Various questions followed, I ended up explaining the whole concept of New Urbanism (some fairly sophisticated places are spending a great deal of money to recreate walkable main street core districts) and eventually I had received the pocket history of the town, or at least the past 15 years worth. Apparently a lot of the main street businesses closed after a Wal-Mart opened nearby... a fairly typical small town story. A few hung on until just recently. The coffee house is relatively new, and so far caters mostly to locals. It's a shame more people don't know about this place, it's actually a fascinating few blocks, well worth a half-hour detour off the interstate maybe a mile away. The few natives I met were quite friendly, and I'm assured that the food is good too. Can't help but wonder what a handful of bright, creative, and dedicated artists could do in a town like this... assuming anyone knew they were there?



Next stop was Dwight, maybe another 20 miles or so to the north. Much more vibrant, larger, maybe partially due to the Amtrak stop, and maybe also the closer proximity to Chicago. From there I was back on I-294 an hour later, and in the north suburbs in less than an hour and a half.

Things are going pretty well out on the project site. The river banks I saw when they were bare mud 11 years ago are now covered by a thriving floodplain forest of 30-foot tall cottonwoods and willows. The cicadas are deafening, and the river... on average about 35-feet wide and four feet deep now, at low water... looks great. Dragonflies skim over the water, cricket frogs leap along the banks. The whole thing looks and feels like a southern swamp in the 88-degree heat, which is what passes for a cold front here in August. It was rendered surreal by the occasional airplane going right over us at treetop height, including an F-111, a C-130, and a 707.



Four of us went into St. Louis for dinner on the Delmar Loop, just returned. Tomorrow I'm back on the road, the rest of the crew stays a few more days.