I found the graphic of all the banner photos, which was great fun to look at. But I want to know: what’s going on in this photo? Obviously a somber gathering, but what are the details? Of course, apologies if I just didn’t search well enough.
The aurora borealis started off early last night as soon as the sun had set. I captured this image just outside of the Duluth city limits. Enjoy!
This seems an odd location for a bathroom faucet. Where in Duluth? Hint: may be in a grocery store.
Zach Kerola, “Cloquet Street”
“…” (ellipsis) from the Ancient Greek αποσιωπητικά, élleipsis, meaning “omission” or “falling short.”
I realize that our current theme was a somewhat pedantic exercise, but am very gratified by the varied and imaginative responses represented here. I believe that good art should challenge us, and not merely pacify us with prettiness or virtuosity. That’s not to say it should be shrill, just that it asks us to look further into what image makers, authors, poets… any artists are trying to communicate, because they do so at an often incredible cost.
The re-siding job going on at the apartment building at 6301 Grand Ave. exposed this sign for Joseph A. Lundeen’s shoe shop. A quick search of city directories indicates Lundeen got his start with the Hartman Shoe Co. and by the mid-1920s went into business for himself in the Cormier Dry Goods building at 6227 Grand Ave. By 1950 he had moved across the avenue to the building shown above.
There must be a ghost at the Inn on Lake Superior.
Photos from last weekend’s Mustache March Run are now posted on Photobucket.
Oh Snap. Uncle Harvey’s Mausoleum (a.k.a “The Cribs” a.k.a “Duluth Ice House”) seems to be melting away this winter. First the column went missing a few weeks ago and now the whole house seems to be doomed. Let’s hope Lake Superior Aquaman can fix this?
Kip Praslowicz, untitled
So this Winter hasn’t exactly been last year’s Jack London-esque death struggle. Still, there were moments of peril, and others of extreme, austere beauty. While only visiting in 2013, I wrote something that seems even more true now from this present vantage: “You begin to gather that after the few idyllic months Minnesotans are given, and the many more less-so they’ve chose to endure, that an energy accrues which begs release.” I think we’re due for a blowout.
Great costumes, great turnout of willing idiots to jump into a hole in the lake for a cause. Just awesome, everyone!
Sharon Mollerus, “Scuffle”
Our first friends, as goes the cliché; seldom mellifluous relationships, ever-vying for our parents’ beneficence, until one day we can’t. Others may love the personae we construct, but they can never supplant the primacy of our siblings who’ve known us longer, seen the rough drafts of our most essential selves, and if we’re fortunate, still care.
Mike Scholtz’s photos of the sand- and gravel-hopper ruins known as “Uncle Harvey’s Mausoleum” suggest the round column near the shore collapsed at some point in recent days. The photo at left is from 2013. The photo at right is from today.
Duluth’s first ore dock was built in 1893, just east of 34th Avenue West. The Duluth, Missabe and Northern Railway built several docks there for loading iron ore from the Iron Range for shipment to steel plants in the East. The first five docks were built of wood, which was gradually replaced by steel and concrete.
Kip Praslowicz, untitled
Some very sweet images this week, and I’m genuinely glad to see so many of you contented, but there must be angst, some “sturm und drang,” yes? The theme isn’t all rainbows and unicorns- this love business, as a salient hair band once averred, it “scars, it wounds and mars.” How we suture the injuries we sustain and those we inflict defines us more than any cleaving to cloying ideals.
