Thanks to everyone who's been in correspondence with me and who have been reading the blog and posting comments–I'm loving every bit of it, so please, keep them coming! I have so many pictures to post, and so many hours of interview tapes to review, and so many things to comment on based on some great, constructive feedback, so please be patient with me. I'll try to address all these concerns in the span of 2 months, like community, political statements, recycling, form, more reasons for doing it and of course great stories. I have three people to do follow-up interviews with tomorrow before I leave Friday morning; work is already piling itself on me. Yikes.
Tonight: screw the 7" talk. Crazy ideas are the focus of tonight's discussion…so please read on dear readers. I finally made it over to Bop Street Records in Ballard of Seattle. Everyone has been talking about it; Chris, a friend's cousin who was gracious enough to lend me a bike for a few days mentioned it (Thanks a ton, Chris!), not to forget just about everyone else I meet and talk to about this project. I spent 3 and a half hours looking through and photographing records from 6 two-foot long boxes of 45s from the 80s through today. Oh dear is right. Bop Street, as I found out later the evening, is one of the largest collections of records in North America! It was like a record archive, boasting more than half a million pieces. The down stairs is stacked floor to ceiling with 33s, 78s and ancient 18" records. It was truly impressive to see that much volume in one place.
Contrasting the hip record shops in Seattle that have been around for a decade or so, Bop Street has been around for over 30 years, and didn't have quite the selection of cutting-edge handmade stuff as the newer stores. However, it had a formidable collection of work from the 80s and 90s, much of it from the Seattle area in fact. According to the shopkeeper, Bop gets most of its merchandise from collectors who want to off all their records in one go. The shop gives the seller a lump sum, sells the gems to make back its money and archives the rest–typical large-collection-record-store procedure, as far as I can tell. It's not surprising then that the collection of 45s consisted of throw-aways from collectors around the area and stuff that never sold in the store. I ended up picking up the choicest ones from the 6 boxes–those that were quintessential of a year or form, those that were truly one-of-a-kind, and those that were graphically stunning. I'm also thinking about an alternate title for 'handmade record covers', the choice to do so inspired by the shopkeeper saying, "oh, like homemade covers?" and changing 'handmade' to 'homemade'. This is also partly in response to Phil from Anacortes putting commercial production in a new perspective for me in that such processes too involve the human hand–people are just working with bigger and more technical tools. Plus, 'homemade' suggests the difference between bringing a store-bought blueberry pie to a party versus one fresh from your own hands and oven.
I must back up here a bit to explain a few of my issues I've been experiencing along the way before revealing the big crazy idea . First, those who have read the last two postings are aware of the difficulties and complexities in gathering and analyzing data in this volume–I'm taking hundreds of photos and even picking up a few records to keep. There's also the issue of realizing that this project can go in multiple directions and I only have so many hours in the day to research the record labels, artists, etc. Second, some people have been asking me about the content of the pieces, both musical and visual. I don't have access to a record player all the time, and taking notes on the visual content is quite time consuming. It's hard enough just talking about origins and form, not to mention trying to gather stories at the same time. Plus, lyrical commentary is not really my bag, so to speak. Third, I can only pack so much stuff with me: Vinyl is heavy! Finally, people have been asking, and I have been thinking about the cumulative project: what I'm I going to do with all this documentation in a way that somehow jives with the nature of the things I'm researching? I have the kernel of an solution to all of my problems. Get this:
I'm starting "The Homemade Album Art Historical Preservation Society." Here's how it works: Give me your mailing address, (you can email it to me at jamesshaff (at symbol) gmail (dot) com if you enjoy your privacy) and I will send you a record I've picked up while I'm on the road with a addressed and stamped envelope to my hired archivist back in Minneapolis. Included with the record will be a xeroxed sheet of paper that will have the following printed on it:
Band:
Record title:
Label and address:
Materials:
which will be filled out by yours truly, followed by a statement explaining its significance and then a statement encouraging the correspondents to listen to the album and write comments on the lyrics, artwork, and any other thoughts or pertinent info on the band, label or regional history. Then the recipient will send the album to my archivist, and when I get back, I will send you a hand screenprinted 45rpm copy of my own band!
Hopefully, "The Homemade Album Art Historical Preservation Society" will do a number of things: 1) Lighten my load on the road so I can be more flexible about traveling and visit more record stores and talk to more people; 2) Allow for more records to be documented in-depth (and listened to!); 3) Involve more people in the research and project–I believe strongly that a diversity of thought will result in greater insight–already so many people have been so helpful, and I'd like to extend an invitation to really get into it if they choose to; 4) Have more fun! Looking through the collections at Bop was so fascinating because I felt like an urban historian or detective, uncovering some great mystery.
Finally, this may be an opportunity to begin work on some sort of project outcome that, like I said, jives with the nature of the research. I'd like it to touch on a few themes that have been showing up lately in more contemporary homemade pieces: community, craft and reusing/anti-consumerism. I'll briefly describe these, with the intent of expanding upon them more in the near future. What gives many of these covers their social currency is their gift-like qualities and their use of known networks of people in their production. The "Homemade Album Art Historical Preservation Society" will attempt to do just this. Next, many bands are realizing that craft is an important element in getting people to participate at shows and to sell albums. The craft and dedication of this lies in careful consideration of as many pieces as possible. Finally, taking from the idea that there is so much throw-away stuff in this world, we will be reusing old albums that would otherwise be thrown away or lost in the archives of some record store as historical documents. This may not be the final form of the project, but it is at least a start at something; an experiment. Again, I'll be going much more in-depth on these themes in the near future and will attempt to relate them to conversations and physical examples as much as possible.
To those I have addresses for, expect a surprise album in the mail soon, as you'll be the first guinea pigs in the project! As it turns out, I have more albums than addresses, so please let me know if you'd like one. (Be sure to tell me what kind of listening device you have access to so I can send you something compatible.)
cheers!
James
P.S. if you know anyone/anything in the Bay Area who/that would be helpful to this research, let me know and I will be very grateful indeed.
Thursday, July 10, 2008
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
More Methodology Madness
The point of this posting is to elaborate on some things mentioned yesterday in regards to my research methods. I believe I stressed the importance of capturing the why, and I didn't want to sound as if I was discounting the when and where.
The study of form is the logical beginning for a study of this sort of thing. In fact, I would argue that it is essential to understand exactly what I'm documenting for a few reasons–it's just that the way in which I go about documenting and following up on leads may have to be altered. First, there's the notion that by examining specific pieces I'll be able to discern some sort of structure imbedded throughout the form of these covers. If such undeniable forms or laws run continuously through the form of handmade covers, the question of why such structures exist is raised. This is to say that a critical look at the when and where could begin to answer the why.
Allow me to give an example. Say for instance one were to come across many cassette covers that were rubber stamped and dated back to the early 80s. One would say that the form of handmade covers involved the cassette format and that they were rubber stamped. After months of searching through used bins at records stores, you started noticing something else: rubber stamped 7" 45s from the mid 80s and early 90s, even some from the past few years. This is a major change in form, much more significant than small variations within the content of the stamp. By rigorously collecting data, (and this is quite an exaggerated example, keep in mind) one was able to understand that there existed the form of the cassette in the first place, and informed through dating processes, one was able to surmise that the 7" took its place as the primary form of expression. One can only begin to form good hypotheses when one can form good questions: Why did the 7" essentially "take over" the cassette?
I hope I've shown how important collecting data is in this process, however elementary I may make it out to be. Part of the assessment I wrote about the other day asked if I was collecting the right data on form. Usually I simply take a lot of photographs in record stores, (and make sure I take down dates if they are present) but as of late I've been trying to make sense of the information beyond that, like artists, if listed, record label, and place of origin. Getting in touch with those who produce these things is the follow up that I'm beginning to work on. I also think some sort of mapping exercise is in order, just to see what happens with the data! Maybe I'll come across something of interest. Maybe not…
Tonight: more on the form of the 7"!
-James
The study of form is the logical beginning for a study of this sort of thing. In fact, I would argue that it is essential to understand exactly what I'm documenting for a few reasons–it's just that the way in which I go about documenting and following up on leads may have to be altered. First, there's the notion that by examining specific pieces I'll be able to discern some sort of structure imbedded throughout the form of these covers. If such undeniable forms or laws run continuously through the form of handmade covers, the question of why such structures exist is raised. This is to say that a critical look at the when and where could begin to answer the why.
Allow me to give an example. Say for instance one were to come across many cassette covers that were rubber stamped and dated back to the early 80s. One would say that the form of handmade covers involved the cassette format and that they were rubber stamped. After months of searching through used bins at records stores, you started noticing something else: rubber stamped 7" 45s from the mid 80s and early 90s, even some from the past few years. This is a major change in form, much more significant than small variations within the content of the stamp. By rigorously collecting data, (and this is quite an exaggerated example, keep in mind) one was able to understand that there existed the form of the cassette in the first place, and informed through dating processes, one was able to surmise that the 7" took its place as the primary form of expression. One can only begin to form good hypotheses when one can form good questions: Why did the 7" essentially "take over" the cassette?
I hope I've shown how important collecting data is in this process, however elementary I may make it out to be. Part of the assessment I wrote about the other day asked if I was collecting the right data on form. Usually I simply take a lot of photographs in record stores, (and make sure I take down dates if they are present) but as of late I've been trying to make sense of the information beyond that, like artists, if listed, record label, and place of origin. Getting in touch with those who produce these things is the follow up that I'm beginning to work on. I also think some sort of mapping exercise is in order, just to see what happens with the data! Maybe I'll come across something of interest. Maybe not…
Tonight: more on the form of the 7"!
-James
Monday, July 7, 2008
Methodology assessment
Check out the links on the side of the blog! I set up a photo account with Picasa to view more incredible covers at a higher resolution than those in the side bar. More will be uploaded, and captions put in if I have absolutely nothing better to do! On with today's report!
Seattle is a gorgeous city to walk through. I took an epic walk today from the University district, which sits on Union Bay, part of Lake Washington through Ballard to Golden Garden Park, which looks out into the Puget Sound. My temporary housemates at the housing co-op here said that I did a 10-14 mile trek round-trip. No wonder I'm worn out! Walking leaves one much time to think about what to blog about, after, of course, one gets tired of singing embarrassing improvised melodies on the street to no one…
The first stop on my trek was Golden Oldies, a classic record shop, the labor of decades of dedicated collectors, much like Hymie's in Minneapolis, for those familiar with Twin Cities record stores– broad and deep in terms of selection. I spoke with the manager on duty, who has worked there for 20 years and has been a blues musician for 40. When asked about handmade covers, he gave me a quizzical look and said that he may have a few bootlegs that people have drawn on. As it turns out, no one comes in with their handmade covers to sell to Golden Oldies, as is the case with Hymie's as well. I pressed the man, as I could tell he was curious about what the hell I was up to, and he eventually told me something to the effect of, "why would anyone spend the time and money to make a cover from scratch when you could just have it commercially done?"
I wish I had said, "That's exactly what I'm trying to figure out, too!" I'm grateful this man gave me the commercial perspective on what I'm studying, as he reminded me of my research question.
And then I thought about how exactly I was going about my research and decided after a week of being on the road, I would have to assess my methodology. As I walked (and there was a lot of walking today) I asked myself what produces the most leads, what sort of activities are the most insightful, what questions am I really trying to answer, and how is the project losing or gaining scope? While going to record stores is fun, and taking lots of photos is great, I feel a bit like a designer ripping pages out of the latest design rags for a personal three-ring binder "cheat-sheet". I think I've established the fact that people are currently pushing the material form of the cover and testing the possibilities that the album cover has to offer and I will continue to do this exercise. However, I haven't been going in-depth enough with regards to tracking down the people involved (musicians, artists, record labels) in making these specific examples, seeing as the more fruitful aspects of my research consist of talking to people (those who make the covers, in particular) and interviewing people. All of this relates to the issue of the origin of handmade covers; whether it's historical or psychological. I'm realizing that there are multiple ways I could go with this project–to look into when and where handmade covers have arisen, or to delve into why handmade covers came into being.
While I was thinking about all this at Sonic Boom, a record store in Ballard, Seattle, an interesting thing happened: I came across a handmade 12" hip-hop album cover–the first I've seen so far. This was one of my original hypotheses–that maybe, since many handmade covers were made with the concept of being underground and independent from record labels and the traditional music industry in mind, handmade hip-hop covers may appear as well. Then I remembered that this sort of research is about constantly testing hypotheses and reworking hypotheses, and that I'm just in a phase of assessment and that I should pursue both the historical and the psychological origins, seeing as the methodology is still being worked out.
I have more to write on changes in methodology, but I'm much too wiped out. More tomorrow!
ciao!
james
Seattle is a gorgeous city to walk through. I took an epic walk today from the University district, which sits on Union Bay, part of Lake Washington through Ballard to Golden Garden Park, which looks out into the Puget Sound. My temporary housemates at the housing co-op here said that I did a 10-14 mile trek round-trip. No wonder I'm worn out! Walking leaves one much time to think about what to blog about, after, of course, one gets tired of singing embarrassing improvised melodies on the street to no one…
The first stop on my trek was Golden Oldies, a classic record shop, the labor of decades of dedicated collectors, much like Hymie's in Minneapolis, for those familiar with Twin Cities record stores– broad and deep in terms of selection. I spoke with the manager on duty, who has worked there for 20 years and has been a blues musician for 40. When asked about handmade covers, he gave me a quizzical look and said that he may have a few bootlegs that people have drawn on. As it turns out, no one comes in with their handmade covers to sell to Golden Oldies, as is the case with Hymie's as well. I pressed the man, as I could tell he was curious about what the hell I was up to, and he eventually told me something to the effect of, "why would anyone spend the time and money to make a cover from scratch when you could just have it commercially done?"
I wish I had said, "That's exactly what I'm trying to figure out, too!" I'm grateful this man gave me the commercial perspective on what I'm studying, as he reminded me of my research question.
And then I thought about how exactly I was going about my research and decided after a week of being on the road, I would have to assess my methodology. As I walked (and there was a lot of walking today) I asked myself what produces the most leads, what sort of activities are the most insightful, what questions am I really trying to answer, and how is the project losing or gaining scope? While going to record stores is fun, and taking lots of photos is great, I feel a bit like a designer ripping pages out of the latest design rags for a personal three-ring binder "cheat-sheet". I think I've established the fact that people are currently pushing the material form of the cover and testing the possibilities that the album cover has to offer and I will continue to do this exercise. However, I haven't been going in-depth enough with regards to tracking down the people involved (musicians, artists, record labels) in making these specific examples, seeing as the more fruitful aspects of my research consist of talking to people (those who make the covers, in particular) and interviewing people. All of this relates to the issue of the origin of handmade covers; whether it's historical or psychological. I'm realizing that there are multiple ways I could go with this project–to look into when and where handmade covers have arisen, or to delve into why handmade covers came into being.
While I was thinking about all this at Sonic Boom, a record store in Ballard, Seattle, an interesting thing happened: I came across a handmade 12" hip-hop album cover–the first I've seen so far. This was one of my original hypotheses–that maybe, since many handmade covers were made with the concept of being underground and independent from record labels and the traditional music industry in mind, handmade hip-hop covers may appear as well. Then I remembered that this sort of research is about constantly testing hypotheses and reworking hypotheses, and that I'm just in a phase of assessment and that I should pursue both the historical and the psychological origins, seeing as the methodology is still being worked out.
I have more to write on changes in methodology, but I'm much too wiped out. More tomorrow!
ciao!
james
Sunday, July 6, 2008
Attention is the new currency
After a night of mulling things over, I've realized I must return to the research component of this project, especially after visiting the Mecca of handmade covers. Anacortes (pop. 16,000) has a long history of doing this sort of thing, which has its roots, as I have gathered, with Bret Lunsford bringing in weird new records and tapes to The Business (Anacortes record store) and starting the Knw-Yr-Own label. (Please correct me here if I miss anything) Very few of the weird records were bought in this small town, and a few people released music on tape with his record label. Phil Elvrum was hanging out at the store quite a bit in the mid-nineties during high school and making zines and cassette inserts in the backroom with Bret's newfangled Xerox machine. Now Phil is creating his own music, runs a label and print shop and collaborates with other musicians in the locale. Bret manages Anacortes' What the Heck Fest, a four day festival to showcase Anacortes and bands from around Washington and the Pacific Northwest. Karl Blau, who's in the band D+ with Phil and Bret runs a mail order service in which subscribers receive handmade album art and goodies with a CD. Meanwhile, an old firestation has been converted into the Department of Safety, an all ages venue and residency for artists and musicians. In other words, this small town in Northern Washington is ripe with people supporting music, art and creativity, and challenging the common held belief that small towns are not culturally valid spaces. It is no wonder that it had some of the most striking handmade pieces.
One of the central questions of this journey/project is "why make handmade covers?" To some, this question is so obvious and the answer so self-evident, but it's a difficult one to articulate nonetheless. A figure in Minneapolis told me that album covers provide the visual complement to the sonic piece and that it's a way to make one's work more conceptually holistic. While this answer gets at why we have these physical objects around in the first place, (other than for buying and selling purposes) the statement could hold equally as true for commercially printed record jackets as well. Handmade things that exhibit any sort of creativity is an indicator of a celebration of life was an explanation that a Seattle record store owner offered to me. A prolific musician and artist out in Anacortes said that he wants to be surrounded with handmade things because they manifest a network of production as well as a community. Later, the same man offered up this statement: "Attention is the new currency."
This somehow resonates with me. People's attention is divided all the time. How does a band with a myspace page (or not) grab someone's attention? How can one step out of a crowd of thousands all raising their hands yelling, "pick me!"? Everyone with a computer, or a four-track, and an internet connection can produce something of value--the tools of production are in the hands of everyone. One way to do this is to invest more attention into the product that one is selling, giving or trading to others. When you invest more attention, people are perhaps more willing to give more of theirs in exchange.
This has probably been the case with handmade covers since the beginning; now even more so given the current technological state of things. There were probably more reasons back in the 80s, but we'll talk more on that later, after I make a trip down to Olympia in the next few days.
later,
James
PS someone said I should post more record covers on flickr. This will happen soon, as it is a great idea
One of the central questions of this journey/project is "why make handmade covers?" To some, this question is so obvious and the answer so self-evident, but it's a difficult one to articulate nonetheless. A figure in Minneapolis told me that album covers provide the visual complement to the sonic piece and that it's a way to make one's work more conceptually holistic. While this answer gets at why we have these physical objects around in the first place, (other than for buying and selling purposes) the statement could hold equally as true for commercially printed record jackets as well. Handmade things that exhibit any sort of creativity is an indicator of a celebration of life was an explanation that a Seattle record store owner offered to me. A prolific musician and artist out in Anacortes said that he wants to be surrounded with handmade things because they manifest a network of production as well as a community. Later, the same man offered up this statement: "Attention is the new currency."
This somehow resonates with me. People's attention is divided all the time. How does a band with a myspace page (or not) grab someone's attention? How can one step out of a crowd of thousands all raising their hands yelling, "pick me!"? Everyone with a computer, or a four-track, and an internet connection can produce something of value--the tools of production are in the hands of everyone. One way to do this is to invest more attention into the product that one is selling, giving or trading to others. When you invest more attention, people are perhaps more willing to give more of theirs in exchange.
This has probably been the case with handmade covers since the beginning; now even more so given the current technological state of things. There were probably more reasons back in the 80s, but we'll talk more on that later, after I make a trip down to Olympia in the next few days.
later,
James
PS someone said I should post more record covers on flickr. This will happen soon, as it is a great idea
Saturday, July 5, 2008
Anacortes
Thanks you so much to everyone in Anacortes who allowed me to munch on their delicious food and photograph their awesome record collections. Special thanks to Phil, Kevin and Karl for the talks and to the kids at the Department Of Safety (DOS) who put up with me (and put me up) and gave me quick ride back to Seattle. More in the morning…
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
A New Lead
Today was the big hunt: 10 hours of walking and busing around Seattle checking out record stores (I also got fish n' chips down by the seaside market and made a few scenic detours). There were a lot of disheartening surprises--Bop Street Records not being open when I got there; two stores near downtown simply not existing; and another one on my list either moved or out of business. Rather than striking out, I found that luck was with me.
Funny enough, I ended up seeing a store out the bus window on my way downtown and stopped to find a few mid-nineties throwaways, and around the corner happened to be Easy Street, a new and vintage shop sporting what turned out to be the Record of the Day. I got the info for another record store I hadn't heard of and set off to find it in the Capitol Hill area.
Wall of Sound was the name of the place, and turned out to be a goldmine of handmade CD jackets. It would seem as though every town has a record shop in which they devote a special section of the store to handmade pieces, like Treehouse in Minneapolis, and Encore in Ann Arbor MI. Wall of Sound was that store in Seattle. I spent a good hour in there taking photographs and admiring the owner's eclectic European tastes in stuff that was meant to no doubt impress and embarrass people at a fancy party serving beers meant to produce the same result.
After catching a stunning view of Downtown and the bay from Queen Anne (a nice residential part of town) I wandered across the Fremont bridge to the campus side of the bay and found the boarded-up windows of the record store I mentioned that had up and left. And then things got strange…
I kept walking for another block and happened across a store, Jive Time, that was one of the missing stores that was supposed to be located downtown. Weird. I went in and told the owner about what I was doing, and he totally gave me a different story about handmade covers. Most people, and what I've gathered from seeing pieces in stores, maintain that they emerged with punk music in the late 70s when musicians, short on dough, or wanting to subvert the music industry started to do it themselves. Scott, at Jive Time, cited examples from the 60s when crazies or loners would put together their own covers of collaged mushrooms (for example). He said that Sun Ra started spray-painting his covers back in the 60s. Then he blew me away with an idea and a new lead that I haven't heard of yet: people going into department stores as early as the late 40s, singing along with prerecorded material and having their own voice cut to vinyl right there in front of your eyes! Interesting slant on everything, at any rate. Scott and I will get together next week to discuss his personal collection, so stay tuned. All in all, a successful day. I head to Anacortes tomorrow, a town 80 miles north of Seattle, and I'll write when I return.
Later,
james
Funny enough, I ended up seeing a store out the bus window on my way downtown and stopped to find a few mid-nineties throwaways, and around the corner happened to be Easy Street, a new and vintage shop sporting what turned out to be the Record of the Day. I got the info for another record store I hadn't heard of and set off to find it in the Capitol Hill area.
Wall of Sound was the name of the place, and turned out to be a goldmine of handmade CD jackets. It would seem as though every town has a record shop in which they devote a special section of the store to handmade pieces, like Treehouse in Minneapolis, and Encore in Ann Arbor MI. Wall of Sound was that store in Seattle. I spent a good hour in there taking photographs and admiring the owner's eclectic European tastes in stuff that was meant to no doubt impress and embarrass people at a fancy party serving beers meant to produce the same result.
After catching a stunning view of Downtown and the bay from Queen Anne (a nice residential part of town) I wandered across the Fremont bridge to the campus side of the bay and found the boarded-up windows of the record store I mentioned that had up and left. And then things got strange…
I kept walking for another block and happened across a store, Jive Time, that was one of the missing stores that was supposed to be located downtown. Weird. I went in and told the owner about what I was doing, and he totally gave me a different story about handmade covers. Most people, and what I've gathered from seeing pieces in stores, maintain that they emerged with punk music in the late 70s when musicians, short on dough, or wanting to subvert the music industry started to do it themselves. Scott, at Jive Time, cited examples from the 60s when crazies or loners would put together their own covers of collaged mushrooms (for example). He said that Sun Ra started spray-painting his covers back in the 60s. Then he blew me away with an idea and a new lead that I haven't heard of yet: people going into department stores as early as the late 40s, singing along with prerecorded material and having their own voice cut to vinyl right there in front of your eyes! Interesting slant on everything, at any rate. Scott and I will get together next week to discuss his personal collection, so stay tuned. All in all, a successful day. I head to Anacortes tomorrow, a town 80 miles north of Seattle, and I'll write when I return.
Later,
james
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
Day 1
Arrived in Seattle after a long train ride (34 hours). I'm now convinced that Amtrak is short for "Amateur Track." (It was 5 hours late getting to St. Paul and then we were transfered to a bus in Spokane WA). First, some thoughts from Montana:
We just stepped out to refuel in the middle of Montana right before dusk. Everyone got out of the train--the old folks to have a cigarette and reminisce about past train trips, and the younger families to get the kids out for a minute before continuing on.
I paused next to the platform to consider the relic on display of an era passed: a locomotive of the Great Northern Railway, the signage under it boasting "The finest, most powerful steam passenger locomotive up to this time." My photo of the beast was almost interrupted by a John Deere tractor pulling 2 carts of checked baggage into the station.
I slept most of the way from St. Paul to Devil's Lake ND, and when I awoke, the landscape had changed to the plains--expansive, extending to the horizon, ending only when too much atmosphere got in the way. Why build anything small in an area that seems to go on forever? Building in a clustered fashion would only be seen as defense against the landscape.
And while the city and the rest of the civilized world gets caught up in limiting resources and moving ahead, here in Montana, such concerns are either dismissed or do not exist as concerns at all in the seemingly limitless landscape. It is totally cool to cling to a time when the railways were the "fastest and most powerful" and baggage can be transported with farm equipment.
Enough about the train…Today I showed up at the doorsteps of a fellow NASCO co-op, and they allowed me to stay for bit! I haven't traveled that far at all, it turns out, as this place is on frat row, something I am quite familiar with. There was a record store in the University district where I found a few records and spoke with a really talkative store owner. Back at the co-op, I discovered that people from the Seattle/Oregon/NorthCali area know a helluva lot more about handmade record covers than I do. Rory, a soon-to-be phD student was generous enough to show me his formidable collection of The Microphones singles, (including a pop up 12" !) and to fill me in on some places to go (Olympia and Portland may have to join the other cities on the itinerary).
Turns out I have a lot of places and people to visit…and homebrew to drink (Vince and Rory make it in a closet upstairs).
We just stepped out to refuel in the middle of Montana right before dusk. Everyone got out of the train--the old folks to have a cigarette and reminisce about past train trips, and the younger families to get the kids out for a minute before continuing on.
I paused next to the platform to consider the relic on display of an era passed: a locomotive of the Great Northern Railway, the signage under it boasting "The finest, most powerful steam passenger locomotive up to this time." My photo of the beast was almost interrupted by a John Deere tractor pulling 2 carts of checked baggage into the station.
I slept most of the way from St. Paul to Devil's Lake ND, and when I awoke, the landscape had changed to the plains--expansive, extending to the horizon, ending only when too much atmosphere got in the way. Why build anything small in an area that seems to go on forever? Building in a clustered fashion would only be seen as defense against the landscape.
And while the city and the rest of the civilized world gets caught up in limiting resources and moving ahead, here in Montana, such concerns are either dismissed or do not exist as concerns at all in the seemingly limitless landscape. It is totally cool to cling to a time when the railways were the "fastest and most powerful" and baggage can be transported with farm equipment.
Enough about the train…Today I showed up at the doorsteps of a fellow NASCO co-op, and they allowed me to stay for bit! I haven't traveled that far at all, it turns out, as this place is on frat row, something I am quite familiar with. There was a record store in the University district where I found a few records and spoke with a really talkative store owner. Back at the co-op, I discovered that people from the Seattle/Oregon/NorthCali area know a helluva lot more about handmade record covers than I do. Rory, a soon-to-be phD student was generous enough to show me his formidable collection of The Microphones singles, (including a pop up 12" !) and to fill me in on some places to go (Olympia and Portland may have to join the other cities on the itinerary).
Turns out I have a lot of places and people to visit…and homebrew to drink (Vince and Rory make it in a closet upstairs).
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