Oh, the Places We’ll Go!

First and foremost, let the record show that was Dr. Seus’ BEST book.

Anyway, Katie and I have been out and about the city, with plenty more to share. We’re planning another ihop coffee night to sit down and knock a few things out very shortly. More obscure art houses, and delightful fun downtown. Sadly, our phones were dead to the world before our downtown excursion was complete, so another is in order. Eventually.

Either way, the fun will ensue shortly and I’ll leave you with a picture of the wonderful man who has let us into The Orange Show twice now – Phillip.

 

Now, I’m Gon’ Wanna Copy of That Picture!

Ah, yes. We new it would happen… Melissa and I returned to The Orange Show. We felt it very necessary to share it’s wonder with the world, so we started with just a couple friends. [Side note: Adam and Tasha - you owe us.]

When we arrived, we were actually just planning on viewing it from the exterior, snapping a few photos, etc. I ventured into the open Visitor’s Center and said “Hi”  to a few of the lucky folks working for the Orange Show Center for Visionary Art. I asked the woman at the desk, who just so happened to be the Wendy that I had emailed (Hi Wendy!), if Phillip could come out and play. She gladly paged him via intercom, and he bounded toward the Visitor’s Center. We were so very glad to see him! And then, ofcourse, our new orangetastic friend asked us “So do y’all want to go in again? I can let you in.” to which we responded “YES!!!” and hurried toward the towering glory that is Jeff McKissack’s orange-fueled playground. Our friends loved it, as did the baby, and we got plenty of pictures (once again). It was, and most likely always will be, a great trip and a great way to start off our Folk Art excursion.

Front fence of the "Flower Man" house

Cleveland Turner. Oh, Cleveland Turner. Houston’s very own “Flower Man“. We knew he was around somewhere, the Orange Show had tipped us off to his location, and we just had to find his flower bedecked home. We input the address into our space-phones [Side note: On this voyage, we had no less than THREE iPhones in the car. Yes, we were absolutely omnipotent. Unstoppable.] and let them show us the way to the Casa de Cleveland.

Yours Truly and our new friend, Cleveland

Though when we got there, we had never expected him to just be standing outside his house. We pulled up to the curb, and there he was, fiddling around with his newest art project. As we approached, we had to ask and be sure… “Are you the “Flower Man“? Is this your house?” to which he zealously responded “Why yes, it sho’ is!!” This is how we met Cleveland Turner.

Cleveland lives in a small rickety home on Francis Street in the third ward of Houston. It’s easily visible from the corner of Francis and Bastrop, as the entire front fence and small yard is covered in odds and ends, toys, clocks, tons of artificial and natural flowers, a real cotton plant, and other useless knick-knacks. Cleveland acquired the name “Flower Man” when he moved into his first home, just down the street from his current address. He had a massive garden in his front yard, bursting with blooms in the springtime, and ofcourse, the collection of nonsense he uses to create his Folk Art. As he showed us around the front yard, inside his front fence, and the first room into his little house, he told us his story. Cleveland was a homeless alcoholic for 17 years. He lived under bridges and in abandoned houses, drinking wine and eating out of Church’s Chicken dumpsters. “I wasn’t one of those homeless folk that stand on the corner and beg… I wasn’t up for any of that, if I’s hungry, I find my own food.” He didn’t seem to mind sharing any of this with complete strangers, but then again, we were glad because we sure didn’t mind talking to him. He was found one night, passed out on the street, and taken to a nearby hospital. They treated him for alcohol poisoning, and toward the end of that whole ordeal, he got the vision for his “Flower House”. Raised in Mississippi, his “Mama always liked them flowers” so ofcourse, he liked them too. He wanted to start something great for himself, so he set his mind to it. He immediately got to work on this dream, started renting his first home, and began going to AA meetings. He put down the bottle, and picked up the paintbrush. He began planting his flowers and collecting his random items to make into something — better. From there, his assemblage of findings grew to become the amount it is today. There is not a square foot of grass or fence that doesn’t have something either placed on it or painted on it. After renting for a few years, he was steady enough to find a little one story frame house down the road and call it his own. He packed up and moved in, taking 3 weeks to continually migrate his cumulation of junk over to his new home. As of right now, he seems to be pretty settled where he is. The only problem that he can see, and that we also saw, was that Hurricane Ike took a bit of a toll on his little dwelling. He did say, however, that he is slowly getting things back into shape, and he had a crew of 20-something volunteers come out and help him clean up last week. The locals seem to love their very own “Flower Man“.

The adorned car behind the front fence

On the inside of that zany front fence, lies much more of those heaps of rubbish, a car that has been adorned with small statues and figurines (and coated in glitter glue), as well as a papaya tree. He stated that he used to have a tangerine tree too, and “that thing had the best tangerines you ever had”. Sadly enough, Hurricane Ike claimed those tasty tangerines and the tree too. As he was showing us around his little yard, he recalled that he had left a skillet on, and needed to go check on it. Thus, he invited us to see some more of his art in the front room of his quaint little home.

Cleveland's sweet ride

Getting up onto the front porch, he showed us the bike he uses to get around town. The bike is old, and a bit rusty, but he loves it and says he would much rather ride than drive a car. It has two big baskets attached to the front and rear, filled with artificial flowers and a few items he collected from his last hunt. He told us that he will ride around and find things to adorn his house with and create his artwork, and sometimes people will stop by and give him things to use, but he gets more joy out of finding his scraps himself. Getting inside the front door, we noted that there are pairs of flip-flops nailed to the ceiling. I thought it best not to even inquire as to the reason behind them being up there, so we just snapped a photo and moved on. On the floor there was, ofcourse, a large heap of more junk, and some pieces of his art that he will be showing later this month. His art consists of painted tree branches that he has found and cut to stand upright like tripods. He covers them in bright hues, coins, toys, stuffed animals, mannequin heads, beads, glitter… basically anything that he deems fit for that branch. There was one branch he pointed out to us in specific. It was a shorter branch that he had attached a female mannequin head to, and named her Playgirl. On the right wall of this room, he has created a collage of newspaper articles, pictures, and paintings. Almost every newspaper article on that wall is a piece about Houston’s “Flower Man”, Cleveland Turner. He talked with us about some of his art plans, pointed out some of his favorite articles, and showed us a few pictures of him and his friends. He asked if I would bring him a copy of the picture I took with him when we first arrived, because he “sho’ would like to add it to his collection of pictures with friends!” I told him that I would definitely do so the next time we are in town.

Cleveland showing us some of his collection

We shook his hand, thanked him for the fantastic tour of his home, and began to part ways. As we got back into the car, and Cleveland resumed fiddling with his newest art project in the front yard, a woman walked by and handed him a scrap of fabric. She asked if he wanted it or could use it for something. He replied “Sho’ can!”, took the scrap, and she continued on her way down the street. As we pulled away from the house, we noted that he did, in fact, use that scrap. He attached it to his new art project, and smiled proudly at what was bound to be the next great addition to his exhibit.

Until the next expedition, folks, this is Katie signing off. We’ll be back when The Two Twitterers decide to take on Houston next… who knows, it may be sooner than you think… And will you be ready?

 

Let it be known….

If I ever again wish for traffic, someone slap me. Please?

 

Time to take this iTripping!

Today I’m off to the little town of College Station today to spend some time with The Boyfriend & take a road trip down to Corpus Christi. While the prospect of spending ungodly amounts of time in a car is somewhat insufferable, I am so very excited to bust out my new WordPress App & blog away about the random shit I find. Believe it or not, I’m actually hoping for some traffic around specific areas of Houston so I can take pictures of the various billboards that make me laugh [i.e. Need a Divorce? Call 1-800-FREEDOM]. Maybe the occasional hobo wearing a Matrix-style jacket. Oh, that was yesterday. & none of us were quick enough the snap a picture… such a shame. The mother of all Things Melissa Needs to Photograph and Document, however, is closer to College Station. I will get a picture of that damn Sexing sign if it kills me. Which may be entirely possible, depending on how fast I’m going over that hill. Hey, you never know.

Anyway, kids. I’m going on the road, and soon you will be, too. I know Katie probably can’t wait to start blogging about yesterdays adventures, so I’ll leave that to her & only say this: Phillip is the MAN. The Orange Show, I’m so glad we met again. Tasha & Adam better be uber grateful we let them into our little place. Ah, Houston. The things you have hidden away where no one expects it… like a garden full of Mushroom statues in the middle of the effing 4th Ward. Bless you.

Also… why is it so cold?! Friendswood is the weather vortex of the world.

 

Ah, the Lazy Life.

Be in awe of it... Bathe in it's glory.

Another fantastic day – with which I did nothing. I’ve come to the conclusion that whenever I have a day off work and nothing in specific that I have to accomplish, I become a veritable slug. Getting out of bed is not something that I feel is worthy of my time off, thus I don’t do so until after 2pm at least. This was my day today. I did get a few errands done (i.e. deposit my pitiful excuse for a paycheck, bought a new book and laptop bag from Mardel, and drank some Andre Spumanti champagne with Melissa), but nothing really noteworthy.

Therefore, I will continue with our excursion for the evening. Monday nights are always a bit of an adventure, though as of late they have become rather mundane. We always make it a point to trek out past Highway 3 and Bay Area Blvd to our lovely Troy’s abode. He’s one of my best friends in the world, and – I shit you not – he has a TV the size of Manhattan. The diagonal length of the screen on this beast is quite possibly identical to my height. Now, I’m not a short individual. I’m a good 5′8″ tall. I’m not sure on the exact size of the screen, but I’m probably pretty close to being correct here.

For anyone who hasn’t seen Heroes, you should. It’s positively addicting. Though we are so intimately attached to this show, we often are quite thankful for TiVo… We will begin to MST3K (if you haven’t seen that either, good grief, please do) what the characters are doing and/or saying and hilarity ensues. Thus, we have to pause for the conversation to continue, let the laughter die down, call “Game On!” and begin the show from wherever it was paused. The show is on Monday’s at 9/8c on NBC, and again, if you haven’t already done so… You really should check it out.

Monday nights also means two other (just as fabulous) shows. Big Bang Theory and How I Met Your Mother are a couple of programs we have randomly picked up and added to our Monday Night Madness nights. My personal favorite of the two, Big Bang Theory, is about a group of socially-inept brainiacs who work for some fictional space program that deals with the Mars Rover. The interaction between the characters in this show is simply divine. If you don’t have the mental capacity to understand complex health, science, and history jokes – this show is not for you. How I Met Your Mother, on the other hand, is a good show… But I am not really as fond of it, so I generally make my way back toward my homestead around the time it starts.

The incessant glow of the magnificent moving-picture device we lovingly refer to as Troy’s TV is currently beckoning me… So, it’s time to part from the sweet, sweet sight of my thoughts manifesting themselves into text via the comforting symphony of clicks from my laptop keyboard. [Side note: I hate my laptop, and I am on the verge of defenestrating it.]

Until later, WordPress, until later.

 

Coffee cures all… I hope.

This is probably the first of many nights that Melissa & I will be sitting at iHop with our laptops and a full carafe of coffee. We are both currently on the hunt for new jobs… and we are failing miserably.

I wish it was something that just came easily. Like, “oh I know what I want to do! there’s a job opening here? cool, can I have it? awesome, ok I’ll see you Monday.” But no it doesn’t work that way. Sigh.

I have an awesome job (that I love dearly, mind you) but it isn’t giving me the hours I need, and since I’m getting hitched in October, I’m going to need something fulltime with benefits… and unfortunately there is no sign of that occuring anytime soon at my current job.

I hope this is something that passes quickly. I’m always hearing “it’s because the economy is so screwed up”, and that may very well be the case… I just hope it’s something that our new Prez can fix, and fix soon.

Ah well. For now, adieu. It’s coffee and craigslist for Melissa and I.

— Time passes, and really, nothing gets accomplished. —

Welllll… I must say that earlier when I made the statement “we are failing miserably” in regards to finding new jobs online… Now you can multiply that by 2. And a half. I’m pretty sure that all we have been doing this entire voyage tonight is blogging and/or working on the blog. I immediately quit job searching after I first started this post and began to surf orangeshow.org for new interesting things pertaining to the magnificent work of insanity that is “The Orange Show”. I gave up on that after sending an email to their Head of Ops person, Wendy, regarding volunteering with their Center for Visionary Art.

Yes, I wrote an email to her explaining my passion for eccentricity and love of spontaneous works of art. I’ve always known that I have such a heart for this kind of thing, but since this weekend, it has just come out full force. I really should be an art major. I’ve always been an artist, and I’ve always loved classical art, contemporary art, sculptures, etc… But what really intrigues me the most, is this form of art lovingly referred to as “dementia concretia”. It’s an art, it’s an illness, it’s a blessing, it’s a curse… Call it what you will, but all I know about it is that I have an enormous passion for the concept of taking a mental illness and making it tangible. Taking the crazy that’s inside someone, this psychosis or general mental instability (in the case of The Orange Show, an unhealthy obsession with oranges), this thing that is abstract and intangible, an infliction… and making it into something you can see, feel, explore, and almost understand. I like to think that having something like that to work on gives them a creative outlet for their disorder… Helps them to feel normal. I also like to think that because art is such a large part of who I am, such a medium in my life, that I can almost connect and understand whatever it is that they create. I know it’s never going to be something that I’ll fully understand, because art isn’t really meant to be understood in the first place. Sometimes even I don’t get the things that I sketch or paint. But that’s okay. That’s just the way art is. And I think that it’s something that most people can connect through. I like to see these works of “dementia concretia” and see the way that these people have let their disorder run rampant. They’ve kind of unleashed it on the world, and left a monument to their minds. Long after they’re dead, they’ve left this piece of themselves behind and decades down the road, people will still be trying to comprehend it.

And I love the fact that they never will.

There was a statement I read the other day about the guy who created “The Beer Can House” in Houston. He covered his entire home in beer cans. Various types, various ways… as long as it was a beer can, and he could add it to his home. This man, John Milkovisch, had stated “I don’t consider this art, it’s just a pastime… but sometimes, I lay awake at night, trying to figure out why I do it.” I love this. It’s “dementia concretia” at it’s finest. The urge to just build, build, build. No reason why. But what they get to choose is how to do it. From covering your home in beer cans, to building a monument praising oranges, to building grottos to the Lord, to creating replicas of the city of Bethlehem or life size models depicting the entire Bible… Whatever it is that drives you.

I’m not really eccentric, myself. Quirky, ofcourse, but not really “eccentric”. I have decided that I merely have a passion for eccentricity. I could research, study, explore, and talk about these types of things all day and all night. I really need to find a line of work in a field such as this. Hard to do, I’m sure, but maybe one day.

Here’s hoping.

 

A New Obsession?

Katie sporting the hottest shirt since sliced bread

I don’t know if you would call this unhealthy or not, but this is Day Two of Katie is Wearing a The Orange Show Shirt. Well, Day One point Five. She threw it on last night at Troy’s birthday bash at Chelseas. Ah, Chelseas. A great coffee and wine bar that is positively artsy and fabulous and right up our alley.

I’m going to dub it unhealthy and awesome. It may also have something to do with the fact I made her pose for this picture to include in The Orange Show post, but completely forgot about it. Nor do I want to take the time to adjust everything in there to make it fit. Thus, she gets her own.

Disclaimer: Katie bathes daily. She doesn’t smell funny today, anyway. Plus it’s a rockin’ shirt.

 

Don’t Forget to Take Your Vitamins!

What does a postal worker in the 1950s with a case of dementia concretia do when his incurable love for oranges cannot be quenched? He builds an epic monument dedicated to such love and the unattainable quest to be the oldest living man in our great city of Houston. What was originally commissioned to be a beauty parlor in 1956 undertook it’s own personality over the course of 33 years and became the concrete and iron wonderland that it is today.  The great irony? Jeff McKissack, creator of this grand absurdity, died two days shy of his 78th birthday and a mere 8 months after his attraction, The Orange Show, was finally open to the public.

Katie began the quest to find this pot o’ gold months before I did. She apparently did nothing  at work over the summer and spent hours upon hours combing through roadsideamerica.com. Once this delicious morsel of eccentricity was discovered, she had a very McKissack like thirst to find this Orange Tribute. It wasn’t until this past Friday night on a very random and impromptu mini-midnight road trip to College Station [Dear Boyfriend, you are welcome. Love, Melissa] that the dream finally seemed tangible. Around 3:30 am, we were trekking back through downtown Houston towards home and had caught second wind, a*k*a were alarmingly awake for the time of night it was. She began talking about The Orange Show, leading me to believe she’d fallen victim to a sleep deprived dementia. The following morning, we set off to join the Houston Flashmob in their very first MP3 Experiment V1.0 downtown. On the way, our wonderful space phones [read: Steve Jobs cellular gift to the world] pointed the way to this urban Disney Land. The MP3 experiment was positively fantastic and we discovered Houston was soon going to be gifting it’s citizens with an ice rink – a big WTF, mate to all those who understand the weather patterns here, but that will soon be a blog for another day – along with a plethora of other new goodies that we can’t wait to blabber on about. While this excitement did tide us over for several photo opportunities, it was merely the appetizer to the most Holy of Eccentric Days we’ve yet to uncover. Our most important discovery was ahead of us.

Finding The Orange Show was a bit of an adventure. It’s tucked away in a small neighborhood near our small airport in an area that we’d both frequented. How this escaped our notice is still a bit of a mystery. Either way, a tiny sign acted as it’s marker, and just as we turned down the street, we both emitted squeals of joy that I’m sure registered only at Dog Whistle frequencies. The towers are visible from the feeder, and it’s amazing. The back half of the neighborhood was bought out by The Orange Show Preservation Society for their office, and these artsy folk are also in charge of the Art Car Parade, so I’m sure you can imagine the various lawn ornaments that suddenly rose out of the ground. If you can’t, google it. We were too distracted by the sight of The Orange Show to document the rest of the area. Just as we parked in front of what we later discovered was their Visitors Center, we saw a positively wonderful man, Phillip, fiddling around with keys. Turns out he was the Program Director for the Society and was letting in some friends to check the place out while it was closed for renovations. Yes, apologies, dear Houstonites, The Orange Show is actually not open to the public until mid-March. I know, this depresses us as well. Either way, we made fast friends with Phillip [who wore a sweater with elbow pads and Chucks. He was amazing.] and he gave us free reign to run around in this twisted little park. Later, he gave us coffee, pamphlets galore, and access to all the free beer mugs, coffee cups, t-shirts, and hats we could possibly carry. Oh yes, did I mention they are friends with family who own St. Arnold brewery here in Houston and they have a annual beer tasting charity event every year? Yes, this place is heaven in a folk art handbasket.

What then ensued was a whirlwind of running, more squealing, tons of “DUDE!” and plenty of snapping sounds as our iPhone cameras kicked into high gear. We ran up every flight of stairs, down every hallway, and practically left no stone unturned. This is easily one of the most amazing things we have ever happened across. To think it has been in our backyard all these years, unknown, is almost painful. Well, unknown to us. The Society holds childrens plays during the summer, concerts at night in the Pond, and keeps it open to general admission a few hours a day to allow curious passersby, lovers of all things eccentric, and art freaks alike to covet this absurdity nestled in our city. The best part of all of this, however, is the Visitors Guide. History and detailed descriptions of nearly every mannequin [which were sadly locked up] and statue in the Show fill the pages, along with accounts of how much Jeff McKissack paid for virtually everything on display. Evidently, this was necessary information for him to share. It also holds classic McKissack quotes that truly add to the mystery of The Orange Show, such as “You could take 100,00 architects… 100,00 engineers… and all of them together couldn’t conceive of a work like this…” and bizarre tales of how he spent a mere $42 for a statue from a Downtown Houston hotel, because they didn’t want it to fall and kill someone, but should anyone else try to make it, they’d have to spend hundreds of dollars to do so. True story. This man was amazing. Crazy, but fascinating. Oh, and he once stated that The Orange Show would be bigger than Disney Land and Astroworld [RIP, dear friend]. The crowds he expected never came, but this didn’t stop him from believing so. There was even a vote drop box for people to agree that The Orange Show was far superior, and he had every intention of mailing the results to Ripley’s Believe It or Not. He also never drove cars, and never married, though firmly attested all his neighbors were terrified he would steal their wives later in his life. You can’t make this stuff up, folks.

This slice of local history prompted this blog, and many more adventures that have yet to be shared and discovered. All because of Jeff McKissack. Well, him and the disturbingly brief amount of space twitter will allow you to use. But for all intents and purposes, we’ll give the credit to the late Mr. Kissack. Kudos, sir… kudos.

 

I’m an author too.

Just thought we should all be aware… For your own good, ya know.

 

Eventually, we’ll have a real one…

Soon, this blog will be full of random shit. Well, I suppose THIS is random. Oh well. More to come later, I’m sure.