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.

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

By: Heather Savage

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.

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!

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.

The Pack touring Churches

Alicia Bennifield, Caleb Moore, Allie Reid, Jeremy Gallagher, Heather Savage