I had to do this drawing in five-minute intervals—I kept running inside a nearby coffee shop to warm up my hands. It’s maybe not the most efficient way to sketch, but it’ll get the job done in a pinch.
Tag Archives: midwest
Winter plain
We’re celebrating the winter break this year with a road trip to the Plains states. And while I normally love a white Christmas as much as anybody—I must admit that brown is a little more conducive to driving cross-country.
Keep your fingers crossed for me, won’t you?
A-okay
Speaking of plants with giant letters on them, this is another old favorite of mine. Like its rival across the Mississippi, this guy was a starring character of my daily commute. Since the “A” mill isn’t part of the museum complex on the other bank, I was always worried it would be torn down eventually. I heard recently, though, that the building is slated to become an enormous live-work artists’ complex, complete with preserved historic exteriors. So for now, at least, I’m breathing a sigh of relief—looks like this place is still A-okay.
Detour
For as disorienting as being awoken before dawn by owls can be, it’s nothing compared to how it feels when you suddenly find yourself on the opposite end of the country than you planned to be. When you’re expecting to land in Houston, and what you get is a hurricane in your path, a sudden 2000-mile detour, two hours in the airport ticket line, a guardian angel having two phone conversations at once, and a surprise overnight trip into the heart of the wrong city—there’s definitely an overwhelming sense of “Okay, what just happened?”
All I could do was what I always do: get out the ol’ sketchbook, and enjoy the view.
Bear crossing
Okay, no more bear jokes. Especially since we didn’t exactly feel like laughing after the Tailor and I almost hit the real thing. (Thank goodness for reflexes and broad daylight.) Obviously I didn’t do this sketch while the moment was happening—but it was easy enough to cobble the scene together from memory.
Because, you know, the image of this guy darting out in front of us, and the Tailor’s death grip on the steering wheel, is pretty much permanently etched onto my retinas.
Dark skies
One of my very favorite things about the Red River Valley (of the north) is that the land is so perfectly, endlessly flat that you can see entire weather systems grow and unfold before your very eyes.
Then again, it’s not so fun when that weather catches up with you. I did this painting in the passenger seat while the Tailor drove, and not ten minutes later those roiling clouds went from pretty picture fodder to terrifying death trap. It rained so hard we couldn’t see past the end of our windshield, and I had to put my paintbrush down in order to cross my fingers and hope the storm didn’t come equipped with car-crushing hailstones.
Then it was over, just as quickly as it had come—driving home the point that no matter how quick on the, er, draw I think I might be, nature will beat me every time.
U.F. Uh-Oh
When the Tailor and I drove to Texas last year, we planned our return route around my decades-long desire to visit Roswell, NM. I was so excited to see what kind of alien-themed kitsch would be waiting for me that I banned myself from looking online to see exactly what was there. I just didn’t want to spoil the surprise. But I did daydream about the possibilities—giant replicas of crash-landed UFOs! Thirty-foot little green men! Alien-head-shaped doughnuts! Intergalactic ferris wheels! Postcards that glow under blacklight! Costumed interpreters! Tinfoil park-ranger hats! Saucer-shaped souvenir stands on every corner! Newsstands devoted solely to the Weekly World News! Cheesy space junk encrusting every square inch of the town! I was positively quivering with anticipation.
Well, I so want to be able to tell you that it lived up to my most ridiculous fantasies—but alas, I can’t. There weren’t alien tchotchkes everywhere, nor were we surrounded by roadside attractions. All we really found was a museum (closed that day), a couple of sparse souvenir shops, and a handful of scattered E.T. effigies—so few, in fact, that I couldn’t even fill one whole spread in my sketchbook. And that makes me sad, because just think of the things Roswell could learn from somewhere like Wall Drug!
I’ve stumbled across more UFO kitsch in completely random places than I found by scouring Roswell that day. For example, in Everett, WA is a charming saucer-shaped park shelter. There’s no connection to alien lore that I know of (except maybe its proximity to the Boeing factory), but it’s charming nonetheless. How cool would this be in Roswell?!?
And then there is the totally inexplicable—and completely awesome—pair of alien-themed barbeque (!?) restaurants in North Dakota, of all places. I got to revisit the Fargo location last summer with the Tailor—and the poor man got treated to my rant about how this was how alien kitsch was done, people. Chrome dinettes and all, thank you very much.
Oh, if only I had the means to start a proper UFO tourist trap in Roswell. It would be a beautiful (and eye-frying) thing to behold.
Babe-y blue
There are a lot of Paul Bunyan statues out there (and I’ve sketched a bunch of them, as you’ll see in the coming months), but I honestly think there are none finer than the magnificent Paul and Babe way up nort’ in Bemidji, Minnesota. In fact, I may go so far as to say these guys are among America’s best-ever roadside attractions.
But that’s just me. How about you—do you have a favorite Paul Bunyan? Bangor? Portland? Muncie? Klamath? Brainerd? If you could pick any Paul, which would you choose?
Chicken Little
Of all the “world’s largest” giant fiberglass animals out there, this isn’t exactly one people make cross-country pilgrimages to see. Yet for some reason, it’s one of my all-time favorites.
Actually, I think it’s because with the help of the surrounding landscape, this chicken would make for one hilarious monster B-movie.
If only Ed Wood were still alive…
Flour power
I lived in the Twin Cities for a few years, and I used to pass under the Gold Medal Flour sign every day on my way to and from work. To me, the mill complex is as important a part of the Minneapolis skyline as the Foshay Tower or any of the modern skyscrapers. That’s because the city’s history and wealth were built by the mills—thanks to the hydro power of the adjacent St. Anthony Falls and the Mississippi River.
You could say that flour was Minneapolis’ bread and butter…
(Sorry, I can never resist.)