Tina Luanna Fox, untitled
It might be the nascent Quaker in me, or the latent Buddhist, but I’m coming to appreciate matters that are lovely because of their impermanence. Artists, maybe photographers in particular, are susceptible to an alternative notion that we can keep moments, thoughts, and experiences — as though the marking were the substantive thing when the effects may be more so. That said, sharing our markings can produce grand effects.
Forest fires burning across Saskatchewan are making for a rather psychedelic afternoon.
Aaron Reichow, “Trees in Bloom, East Hillside”
Though this past Winter wasn’t meteorologically devastating, it was personally; so I needed a keen reminder that “there is a time to every purpose,” as the homily goes. This Spring in my new home has been that sermon, as greige gives way to hues of lilac, cherry, and peach, and all becomes fructive, damp, and pliant again. We grow, we ready, we labor in hope of Summer rest, and a coming harvest.
With graduation ceremonies taking place this week, we look back 85 years ago to see what the Denfeld class of 1930 looked like. That year the school’s Oracle strove to inspire students “with a steadfast purpose to build well upon the foundations of the past,” and was dedicated to “the spirit of industry and progress which has existed in the hearts and minds of the citizens of Western Duluth.” The inside folds of the book feature a “Decorative Map of Western Duluth, with which we begin this post.
The senior class held two successful paper sales, a Christmas card sale and a class play to fund the yearbook in 1930. The organizations that typically funded the Oracle instead gave money to the pipe organ fund; Denfeld’s pipe organ had been purchased in 1926 for $25,000.
Once upon a time I would not have guessed that I’d ever witness somebody stealing rhubarb, but yeah, that’s what this guy did behind our neighbors’ garage this afternoon.
Brian Barber, “Cat Portrait”
Some vivid reminders this week that memorials can take many forms- anything from the solemn to the absurd. It’s good to recall our histories, our milestones, and our experiences with due reverence at times, and at others with some humor and an ironic distance.
Hello! My name is Kahla Statema, and if you can’t pronounce my name, it’s Kayla Stat-uh-mah. I’m the new intern at Perfect Duluth Day and also the face behind the PDD Instagram.
I am a journalism major with a minor in photography at UMD, and what some would call a “fourth-year sophomore.” I’ve always been a writer and used mediums such as poems and short stories to express myself when I was a kid. I enjoy writing stories on just about anything, but my number one dream is to become a freelance travel writer. If you would like to take a look at my personal work, check out my online portfolio.
Follow PDD on Instagram at @perfectduluthday and get ready for a great summer in Duluth!
Charlie Danielson, untitled
In an age of dire news the term “permaculture” may seem optimistic. Still, what might have been the province of raving hair-shirts not long ago now looks to be among our sanest alternatives to hegemony. Permaculture is an organizing principle of practices that assert systemic, creative approaches to the reuse of natural resources to sustain both people and native animals on a local scale. The Arrowhead is fortunate to have a concentration of people at the forefront of this movement, and the attached links are well-worth following.
MPR News is running a series this week featuring photos by St. Paul native John Vachon, who worked for the Farm Service Administration and Office of War Information. From 1938 to 1943 he documented American life and how relief programs were helping those struggling through the Great Depression.
The image above is the only Duluth photo featured by MPR, but there are a few Iron Range and Beltrami County gems.
A look at Bunyan territory in 1939
Minneapolis’ milling history through John Vachon’s lens
Twin Cities streets at the end of the Depression
John Vachon captures Minnesota at work, 1939-1941
John Vachon captures Minnesota farm life at Depression’s end
Ah, the stereograph — a nineteenth-century wonder in which almost identical photographs, side by side, can be viewed with a stereoscope and appear three-dimensional. On a website they just appear silly and pointless, but in this case there’s some fairly fancy historical scenes to browse.
Aaron Reichow, untitled
Oft sought, seldom found, more often induced. Still, when genuine… It might not be apparent, but our lead image this week by Aaron Reichow was shot at the circus. Amazing that amidst all of the tumult that this child managed to tune all else out. There’s something axiomatically spiritual in that, I think.
Don’t worry, after contemplating his life at great length he eventually wandered off the railroad track.
