Jeremy Gallagher, Heather Savage, Alicia Benefield, Caleb Moore, Jameal Jones, Allie Reid
Friday, May 3, 2013
The Pack's Finale
Jeremy Gallagher, Heather Savage, Alicia Benefield, Caleb Moore, Jameal Jones, Allie Reid
A WONDERFUL ROACH
By: Caleb Moore
They are everywhere! On the walls! On the Ground! On almost
every Building! Our shining city is becoming infested with the wonderful world
of street art. Houston is opening up to the world of street
art. Kathleen
Sydnor has stated that they are giving whole blocks to certain artists. I guess
that is just another way this world is changing. I believe for the better! The
culture is changing and changing fast.
The street art we saw this past week on our church tour were
absolutely amazing! The sharp lines are something that you would never think
could be done without tape. This artist uses this skills to their maximum
capacity. He is very detail oriented. He even did some work with wooden blocks.
Whoever thinks this is trashy and making Houston look ugly…
You Just Need to Go! Because the world is changing and you are slowing us down!
Viva La Street Art! Let the Roaches Crawl!
My Journey to Flower Man's House (Fiction)
By: Jeremy Gallagher
Do you remember as a kid your mother or father telling you to clean your room? Sometimes repeating the order three or four times in the same minute as if the survival of the universe was contingent on the completion of the Herculean feat. In an attempt to preserve my sanctuary's natural order, I often began to playfully debate with my parents, hoping to delay the inevitable. After a few minutes of witty discussion, my father would declare in a spine chilling tone, "ENOUGH! You have to the count of three, or it's time out."
For myself, the unnatural request to dismember my refuge's perfected system of organization was heart-wrenching; however, the booming countdown to my doom triggered a primeval instinct within my mind. It transformed me into a swirling vortex like the Looney Toon Taz, hell bent on disposing of the cluttered evidence of my rebellion so that I might avoid fifteen agonizing minutes in the fiery pits of the laundry room corner.
Frantically running around my room, I began tossing the mess into the corner of the closet or even sometimes into the dark abyss under my bed, hoping that the stench of your week old socks might suffocate my arch-nemesis, the bogeyman. With the aid of my quick thinking, I evaded custody this time and received my daily ration of one cookie.
During this weekly to monthly ritual, I recalled losing numerous things here and there, believing that my other foes, the Elves of Keebler, were the potential culprits, stealing all they could carry. After a few years passed, I noticed that my stockpiles of debris grew so large that the time had come to review their contents and dispose of any garbage. As I wallowed in the huge collection of disarray, a wormhole of pandemonium opened, sucking me into another dimension.
When I awoke, I found myself transported to a small, dully colored community of a metropolis. I began to explore the area, heading toward the skyscrapers of the city. Along my trek, I encountered a magical park that resembled a colorful junkyard. Beside this valley of jazzily colored structures, there stood a fortress of the likes I had never seen.
The vivid colors of crimson, blues, greens, and innumerable others of the light's spectrum canvased the building's enclosure, capturing my gaze. While examining the partitions, which were decorated in treasures and monuments of society, I uncovered on a small plaque the name of the structure, "Flower Man's House." I wished to meet this Flower Man, but he was nowhere to be found . When I peeked through the crevices of the fence to see inside the property, I discovered something incredible. The various items that had disappeared from the mounds of debris within my dwelling, had found their way to the Flower Man.
He had decorated the walls, walkways, furniture, and any other open space with knick kancks, dolls, figureines, and even spare parts of vehicles and machinery. The immacualte base certainly deserved recognition as a recyling masterpiece, demonstrating Flower Man's ability to spot the diamond in the rough. His ingenuity and care elightnened me.
I had carelessly tossed these toys into a pile, forgetting the joy they had brought me as a young boy. The Flower Man, on the other hand, transformed these underrated toys into fabulous works of art, displaying the true majesty of the items in his yard. Before I had a chance to thank the Flower Man for preserving the heroes of my childhood on an artistic pedestal, the portal appeared, returning me back to my room. The journey left me with a new appreciation for the treasures of my past; but even more, with a yearning to one day meet the Flower Man.
Do you remember as a kid your mother or father telling you to clean your room? Sometimes repeating the order three or four times in the same minute as if the survival of the universe was contingent on the completion of the Herculean feat. In an attempt to preserve my sanctuary's natural order, I often began to playfully debate with my parents, hoping to delay the inevitable. After a few minutes of witty discussion, my father would declare in a spine chilling tone, "ENOUGH! You have to the count of three, or it's time out."
For myself, the unnatural request to dismember my refuge's perfected system of organization was heart-wrenching; however, the booming countdown to my doom triggered a primeval instinct within my mind. It transformed me into a swirling vortex like the Looney Toon Taz, hell bent on disposing of the cluttered evidence of my rebellion so that I might avoid fifteen agonizing minutes in the fiery pits of the laundry room corner.
Frantically running around my room, I began tossing the mess into the corner of the closet or even sometimes into the dark abyss under my bed, hoping that the stench of your week old socks might suffocate my arch-nemesis, the bogeyman. With the aid of my quick thinking, I evaded custody this time and received my daily ration of one cookie.
During this weekly to monthly ritual, I recalled losing numerous things here and there, believing that my other foes, the Elves of Keebler, were the potential culprits, stealing all they could carry. After a few years passed, I noticed that my stockpiles of debris grew so large that the time had come to review their contents and dispose of any garbage. As I wallowed in the huge collection of disarray, a wormhole of pandemonium opened, sucking me into another dimension.
 |
| Flower Man's House |
When I awoke, I found myself transported to a small, dully colored community of a metropolis. I began to explore the area, heading toward the skyscrapers of the city. Along my trek, I encountered a magical park that resembled a colorful junkyard. Beside this valley of jazzily colored structures, there stood a fortress of the likes I had never seen.
The vivid colors of crimson, blues, greens, and innumerable others of the light's spectrum canvased the building's enclosure, capturing my gaze. While examining the partitions, which were decorated in treasures and monuments of society, I uncovered on a small plaque the name of the structure, "Flower Man's House." I wished to meet this Flower Man, but he was nowhere to be found . When I peeked through the crevices of the fence to see inside the property, I discovered something incredible. The various items that had disappeared from the mounds of debris within my dwelling, had found their way to the Flower Man.
 |
| Toy Art |
He had decorated the walls, walkways, furniture, and any other open space with knick kancks, dolls, figureines, and even spare parts of vehicles and machinery. The immacualte base certainly deserved recognition as a recyling masterpiece, demonstrating Flower Man's ability to spot the diamond in the rough. His ingenuity and care elightnened me.
I had carelessly tossed these toys into a pile, forgetting the joy they had brought me as a young boy. The Flower Man, on the other hand, transformed these underrated toys into fabulous works of art, displaying the true majesty of the items in his yard. Before I had a chance to thank the Flower Man for preserving the heroes of my childhood on an artistic pedestal, the portal appeared, returning me back to my room. The journey left me with a new appreciation for the treasures of my past; but even more, with a yearning to one day meet the Flower Man.
Beer Can House
By: Jameal Jones
The
beer can house was the most amazing creation I had ever seen. It took Mr.
Milkovisch eighteen years to turn his home into a unique site for all to
see.Over 50,000 cans were used to make this home such a beautiful tourist
attraction.
The house showed an art that I had never seen before. My questions were
what made him think to do such a thing and how many times did he get cut while
cutting up the cans. From look at the house he used every piece of the can, Mr.
Milkovisch made designs using the top of the cans, such a masterpiece. When we
walked to the back of the house I saw this little lemon tree that never dies, I
thought it was the coolest thing ever. The lemon tree was made from the plastic
small lemon juice containers and tied to the tree. All I could wonder was who
thinks of such amazing art. I saw a quote when asked why did he do this to his
home, he simply said, "I guess I just thought it was a good idea. And it's
easier than painting." I believe I would have painted my house instead but
Mr. Milkovisch said he didn't see it as art but something to pass his time.
Just goes to show you many people have their own ways of passing time, whether
it takes on day or eighteen years.
Beer Can House: Tin Mans Paradise
 |
| Beer Can House: Houston, Texas |
The rush of wind blows through my long, wavy hair and tickles my cheek. As it departs me and continues on it's journey I hear "jingle, jangle, jangle, jingle"; the sounds of a thousand wind chimes in the distance. I follow the wind as it pulls me through a quaint neighborhood. The wonderful sounds of a metallic orchestra seems to be getting closer by every step. Finally the wind gusts away and leaves me standing in front of a home that welcomed the sunshine and reflected the warm glow off it's surfaces to the world around us. A sense of tranquility sweeps through me as the musical notes glide through the air from the metallic wind chimes that surrounds the structure. Almost everything in sight is cleverly and creatively done in a metallic medium. Adorning the outer walls was rectangles carefully cut out of aluminum cans. The fence is crafted with beer cans, beer bottles, coke cans, and other various items. Majestically draping the edges of the roof are beer can tops strung out dangling on lines. As I walk towards the backyard I become aware of the massive amount of marbles entombed in a concrete walkway. I have never seen this many marbles in one location before. Around the corner is a small clever lemon tree fashioned from metal and removable lemon juice bottles. I step into the home and strangely enough it appears as an average home turned into a museum. Although there is no furniture, there is wall to wall photographs documenting the owners life on this property. The floor is tiled with left over railroad car flooring; handcrafted each piece layered in a custom pattern. One room was full of tools the owner held and used to craft every inch of the exterior of the home. I leave through the backdoor and begin walking towards the front. I hear a whisper chiming in the wind. An old man's voice asking "Can you make it past the black step?" "If so anything can be possible" I heard as I walked up to a yellow ladder cemented in place; at the top is the word "Amen". The voice carried past me and chuckled "Beyond that black step is your adventure to your own Amen." I cant help but agree; everyone has something in life that hinders them from reaching a goal, they only need to decide to get beyond the "black step". Once again the wind rustles up and floats through my hair, I feel the warm glow reflected off the metal, and hear the musical notes dance around me from the beer can tops. This was his Amen; his tin man paradise he left behind for us to enjoy.
Thursday, May 2, 2013
The Flower Man Can
By: Allie Reid
If the Candy Man can, then surely the Flower Man can, right? One man's trash is another man's treasure. I don't think I've ever seen that phrase be more true that it was at The Flower Man's House. This man owns a house and he took that phrase very and I mean very literal! He had junk, or should I say art, covering his whole house and yard. Much of it was painted all different colors of the rainbow. Not only was it painted crazy colors, but pieces from one piece of art would be attached to a different piece rather than where they were originally.
Personally, I think that it's funny that we would consider this art. I'm not saying it's not, just interesting how we don't consider other things art. If this is art, maybe even my whole house is art! I guess the beauty is in the eye of the beholder, isn't it? The owner of this house has probably gotten many complaints for his "junk" everywhere, but hey, it's his house! He is free to do whatever he pleases. That should be how everyone is. All power to him for being brave enough to become an attraction because of his artistic home. I'm sure The Flower Man has a good sense of humor, since some of his art is a tad bit funny looking. It's always fun to see how others express their love for different things! This man obviously loves art and chose to display it all over his property!
Personally, I think that it's funny that we would consider this art. I'm not saying it's not, just interesting how we don't consider other things art. If this is art, maybe even my whole house is art! I guess the beauty is in the eye of the beholder, isn't it? The owner of this house has probably gotten many complaints for his "junk" everywhere, but hey, it's his house! He is free to do whatever he pleases. That should be how everyone is. All power to him for being brave enough to become an attraction because of his artistic home. I'm sure The Flower Man has a good sense of humor, since some of his art is a tad bit funny looking. It's always fun to see how others express their love for different things! This man obviously loves art and chose to display it all over his property!
Wednesday, May 1, 2013
Hot, sexy Jesus!?
The
Cathedral Tour
"Hot, sexy Jesus!?"
What
comes to mind when you think of Jesus? I think of a man hanging helplessly on a cross. His hands pierced, as well as His feet and His
sides, there is a crown of thorns around His head and He is scantily clad. The
image that comes to my mind has been there since childhood. Jesus was hanging
on that cross unjustly. He did nothing to deserve the punishment that he
received. He hung on the cross for you and me. The thought of Jesus brings a
specific vivid picture to my mind’s eye.
We visited cathedrals
on our final trip. They were absolutely beautiful. The stained glass windows
let in just enough light for the inside of the cathedral to not be dark and
gloomy in spite of the majority of the windows being royal blue and red; colors
that you would not think of light getting through. The rich wood of the pews was welcoming. It seemed as if
they were calling me to sit down and just take in the grandness of my
surroundings. The ceiling looked as if it went straight up to heaven. I believed that if I was quiet enough I could hear, “Ava
Maria”. The wonderful natural stone of the altar did not seem cold as one
may have thought; it had a sort of shimmering effect. Maybe it was because it
was in a church, because I have seen that same stone many times and it did not
look the same way as it did encompassing the altar.
The final cathedral
that we visited was Episcopalian. This church was lovely. It had been added on
to but the additions flowed very well with the original part of the church.
When we went into the sanctuary it was breathtaking. This church had all of the
character of a loving grandmother. There was just enough light being let in by
the enormous stained glass windows for us to see all of the intricacies of this
place of worship. Our tour guide talked quietly and we had to crowd around her
to hear the history of the church. She respected where she was and her hushed tone
made us surround her like we were being told a secret.
On the way out of this
place of worship we stopped by the chapel. This room was very modern and had
chairs instead of pews. There was an abundance of light coming in from both
sides of the room. Our saintly guide informed us that the windows were back
lit. The most shocking thing was the humongous picture hanging behind the
pulpit. A hot, ripped, sexy vision of a man was hanging on a cross. Now, this
was no Jesus that I had ever seen; it made me feel uncomfortable. Should I be
having these kinds of thoughts about the man who died for my sins? Certainly
not! I found the picture to be sacrilegious. This portrait had none of the
elements that we are accustomed to when we think of a picture of Jesus. A
rooster was by His left foot, an upside down snake by His right foot, a crown of
flowers surround His head, and a crown of thorns on the ground. It looked as
though there was an erupting volcano behind “Hot Jesus”. A flood of orange flowed down the
mountain. In the middle of this scene
was hot, sexy, ripped Jesus, with his dark brown hair, and serene face hanging
on the cross. He was gorgeous! His left
hand was pierced, His right hand had one finger up as if he was trying to
interject his thought into a conversation, and His feet were crossed with only
the right foot pierced. This made me uneasy. I asked did anybody else not like
this picture. The little lady who was
giving us the history of the church told us that it was controversial.
Controversy is not even the word that I would use to say anything about this
portrait. I am not a religious fanatic or anything, but that portrait
did not sit well with me. A lot of us felt the same way, so we had our
discussion about the picture in question and got on the bus. Everything in my being hated this portrait.
Don’t get me wrong the actual picture was beautiful, although what it symbolized was
awful. How could a church place this sort of mockery of Jesus Christ in its
dwelling, especially since the man in the picture had been sent to prison for
murder and was put to death? Jesus was
the only person who walked this Earth and was perfect; that portrait is an
utter shame.
Sunday, April 28, 2013
The Pack touring Churches
Alicia Bennifield, Caleb Moore, Allie Reid, Jeremy Gallagher, Heather Savage
Saturday, April 27, 2013
The Museum of Fine Arts
The only time I have ever been to a
museum was in elementary school. We all strolled through the museum looking at
things that we totally did not understand or, for that matter, care about. I had
always believed that it was aimed at cultured, rich white people. But this
time, we were given instructions what to look for and let go. We got to roam
around and take in what we saw.
What is art exactly? If you ask a group of people to point out art, the answer would be different for each person. The Houston Museum of Fine Arts has something for everyone. If you like sculptures of larger than life sized naked men with small penises, oil paintings, watercolors, very old fragile books, or beautiful Egyptian artifacts, this place has something for you. Some of the pieces were so intriguing that you wanted to take a closer look, but didn't get too close because the MFA police will quickly tell you, “twelve inches back please”. They take their jobs very seriously.
I thought that the painting The Elder Sister by William Bouguereau was stunning. Her eyes followed you in any direction that you moved to. The colors were somewhat muted but even still, the picture was beautiful. She seemed to be floating in the middle of the canvas even though you could clearly see that she was sitting on a rock. The sky in the background is vivid; it portrays a very clear sunny day. Despite this fact, the painter decides to use a shade of green that is absolutely drab. I think that his idea was to pull you into the portrait and only see the beauty of the children. Their skin is like porcelain. The use of the colors of their clothes also kept you focusing on the beauty of the little girl in particular. Her skin is flawless and her hair is styled so that you keep gazing at her lovely face.
 |
| Houston Museum of Fine Arts |
What is art exactly? If you ask a group of people to point out art, the answer would be different for each person. The Houston Museum of Fine Arts has something for everyone. If you like sculptures of larger than life sized naked men with small penises, oil paintings, watercolors, very old fragile books, or beautiful Egyptian artifacts, this place has something for you. Some of the pieces were so intriguing that you wanted to take a closer look, but didn't get too close because the MFA police will quickly tell you, “twelve inches back please”. They take their jobs very seriously.
I thought that the painting The Elder Sister by William Bouguereau was stunning. Her eyes followed you in any direction that you moved to. The colors were somewhat muted but even still, the picture was beautiful. She seemed to be floating in the middle of the canvas even though you could clearly see that she was sitting on a rock. The sky in the background is vivid; it portrays a very clear sunny day. Despite this fact, the painter decides to use a shade of green that is absolutely drab. I think that his idea was to pull you into the portrait and only see the beauty of the children. Their skin is like porcelain. The use of the colors of their clothes also kept you focusing on the beauty of the little girl in particular. Her skin is flawless and her hair is styled so that you keep gazing at her lovely face.
This was my favorite trip yet simply
because it was amazing to see so much history in one place. It was thrilling to
be amongst so much money. Not being forced to do a traditional tour was awesome.
We were allowed to explore the museum the way we wanted to. This way we saw what
interested us and not anything more. I even talked with some of the other
students in our class and got their opinions of some of the paintings. Hearing
what each person had to say about different works of art made you take another
look at the piece in question to see if you related to their opinion or just
walk away because you thought that they may be from some place other than our
dear planet Earth.
Saturday, April 20, 2013
The Pack at the Beer Can House
Allie Reid - Caleb Moore - Alicia Benefield - Heather Savage - Jameal Jones - Jeremy Gallagher
Friday, April 12, 2013
The Pack on an Urban Art Tour
Jeremy Gallagher - Alicia Benefield - Caleb Moore - Allie Reid - Heather Savage
Friday, April 5, 2013
Museum of Fine Arts
By: Alicia Benefield
The only time I have ever been to a museum was in elementary school. We all strolled through the museum looking at things that we totally did not understand or, for that matter, care about. I had always believed that it was aimed at cultured, rich white people. But this time, we were given instructions what to look for and let go. We got to roam around and take in what we saw.
What is art exactly? If you ask a group of people to point out art, the answer would be different for each person. The Houston Museum of Fine Arts has something for everyone. If you like sculptures of larger than life sized naked men with small penises, oil paintings, watercolors, very old fragile books, or beautiful Egyptian artifacts, this place has something for you. Some of the pieces were so intriguing that you wanted to take a closer look, but didn't get too close because the MFA police will quickly tell you, “twelve inches back please”. They take their jobs very seriously.
I thought that the painting The Elder Sister by William Bouguereau was stunning. Her eyes followed you in any direction that you moved to. The colors were somewhat muted but even still, the picture was beautiful. She seemed to be floating in the middle of the canvas even though you could clearly see that she was sitting on a rock. The sky in the background is vivid; it portrays a very clear sunny day. Despite this fact, the painter decides to use a shade of green that is absolutely drab. I think that his idea was to pull you into the portrait and only see the beauty of the children. Their skin is like porcelain. The use of the colors of their clothes also kept you focusing on the beauty of the little girl in particular. Her skin is flawless and her hair is styled so that you keep gazing at her lovely face.
This was my favorite trip yet simply because it was amazing to see so much history in one place. It was thrilling to be amongst so much money. Not being forced to do a traditional tour was awesome. We were allowed to explore the museum the way we wanted to. This way we saw what interested us and not anything more. I even talked with some of the other students in our class and got their opinions of some of the paintings. Hearing what each person had to say about different works of art made you take another look at the piece in question to see if you related to their opinion or just walk away because you thought that they may be from some place other than our dear planet Earth.
The only time I have ever been to a museum was in elementary school. We all strolled through the museum looking at things that we totally did not understand or, for that matter, care about. I had always believed that it was aimed at cultured, rich white people. But this time, we were given instructions what to look for and let go. We got to roam around and take in what we saw.
|
| Houston Museum of Fine Arts |
What is art exactly? If you ask a group of people to point out art, the answer would be different for each person. The Houston Museum of Fine Arts has something for everyone. If you like sculptures of larger than life sized naked men with small penises, oil paintings, watercolors, very old fragile books, or beautiful Egyptian artifacts, this place has something for you. Some of the pieces were so intriguing that you wanted to take a closer look, but didn't get too close because the MFA police will quickly tell you, “twelve inches back please”. They take their jobs very seriously.
I thought that the painting The Elder Sister by William Bouguereau was stunning. Her eyes followed you in any direction that you moved to. The colors were somewhat muted but even still, the picture was beautiful. She seemed to be floating in the middle of the canvas even though you could clearly see that she was sitting on a rock. The sky in the background is vivid; it portrays a very clear sunny day. Despite this fact, the painter decides to use a shade of green that is absolutely drab. I think that his idea was to pull you into the portrait and only see the beauty of the children. Their skin is like porcelain. The use of the colors of their clothes also kept you focusing on the beauty of the little girl in particular. Her skin is flawless and her hair is styled so that you keep gazing at her lovely face.
This was my favorite trip yet simply because it was amazing to see so much history in one place. It was thrilling to be amongst so much money. Not being forced to do a traditional tour was awesome. We were allowed to explore the museum the way we wanted to. This way we saw what interested us and not anything more. I even talked with some of the other students in our class and got their opinions of some of the paintings. Hearing what each person had to say about different works of art made you take another look at the piece in question to see if you related to their opinion or just walk away because you thought that they may be from some place other than our dear planet Earth.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)