I think we are at the final version

I won’t go into the details of how I argued with 3 different AI models yesterday to get this final image for the recycle show. But I think I’m there. I wanted a shorter look down the street. I wanted the girl (me) closer. I wanted the streetcar closer. I wanted the car stop sign hanging from the building which is more accurate than on a pole. I wanted the stuff at the end of the street to be faint. So to change all of that it was very interesting.  Think the final size will be 16 by 20 so I’ll be able to buy a standard size frame for it. Any editing at this point will happen during construction. At least I now have a plan that I’m happy with.

The perspective is pretty good. The streetcar might be a bit large, but that’s alright.

Once Upon a Time in Steel City

In the 1960’s, the streetcar was already a big part of my life—taking me to Saturday art classes at the Carnegie Museum, to school, and into the city to feel grown up. 

On winter nights like this, I would wait for the Shannon-Library, hands in the pockets of my wool coat, listening for the rumble on the tracks long before I saw the light.

When that red car came into view — wet rails shining, windows glowing with warm light — it meant I was on my way somewhere. It meant the city was still looking out for me.

The car from my memory is gone now. The tracks on that street are paved over.

I made this piece from what we throw away — plastic shopping bags and used dryer sheets. There is something fitting about that. We let the streetcar of my youth disappear, but the plastic stays. If the plastic is going to be here forever, it might as well hold onto something good.

OR

Last Streetcar Home

Once upon a time, in Pittsburgh in 1965, the streetcar was already a part of my life—taking me to Saturday art classes at the Carnegie Museum and into the city to feel grown up. A few years later it would take me to school, too.

On winter nights like this, I would wait for the Shannon-Library, hands in the pockets of my wool coat, listening for the rumble on the tracks long before I saw the light.

When that red car came into view — wet rails shining, windows glowing with warm light — it meant I was on my way somewhere. It meant the city was still looking out for me.

That car from my memory is gone now. The tracks on that street are paved over.

I made this piece from what we throw away — plastic shopping bags and used dryer sheets. There is something fitting about that. We let the streetcar of my youth disappear, but the plastic stays. If the plastic is going to be here forever, it might as well hold onto something good.

Thanks for reading.

Chris

Well that’s just great!!

I started to think about the streetcars in the image I wanted to use for the recycle show. Here’s the image. It turns out those streetcars are not Pittsburgh streetcars. We never had green ones and that round one never came in yellow. As far as I can figure they are Boston streetcars. Pittsburgh in the 1960’s had red and cream colored cars. 

I tried to decide if that was important or not. I tried making both cars red, but that was just boring. I made one car red, but the yellow one is not historically right. Does that matter? I tried to convince myself that it did not. Eventually I decided it did matter since my memory is Pittsburgh. I wanted the story to be about Pittsburgh.

So I began thinking about taking a different approach. Why not have a real Pittsburgh streetcar from the 60’s in the city? My story doesn’t have to be about rusted streetcars. My husband found this image that I modified several times to get an image to work with.

A few of these have perspective issues. I saw that and spent a lot of time trying to get that right. Eventually I settled on the following image. I wanted the once upon a time to be about me as a young person in the  60’s waiting for a streetcar. I remember being so relieved on a cold night when the streetcar was finally coming. I will have to look at this image to make sure it’s OK, but this is where I am. I rode the Shannon Library car. So this once upon a time went from rusted streetcars to a more personal story. 

Here’s the streetcar a bit closer. Looks like I lost the conductor!

Title: Steel City Memories (my husband hated the last Journey)

Artist Statement:

Once upon a time in Pittsburgh, the red streetcars took me everywhere — to school, to Saturday art classes at the Carnegie Museum, and on shopping trips in the city.

I wanted to capture a piece of that memory: a snowy winter night when the shop windows glowed warmly against a cold, a Pittsburgh street, the CAR STOP where I waited in my wool coat with a simple tote, and the red 1706 Shannon-Library streetcar coming down the tracks — a part of my life that is gone.

I chose to make this piece from materials that might otherwise be thrown away — recycled plastic shopping bags and used dryer sheets. There is something fitting about using plastic bags to remember something that has disappeared. The streetcar is gone, but the plastic remains.

Size 18 by 24

Now about the surreal piece. I’ve decided to stick with my original plan with the raven. Done….end of story…enough anguish.

Thanks for reading.

Chris

I have to stop thinking….

I was wondering if I could incorporate a Pennsylvania bird into the surreal image. Ravens are Pennsylvania birds, but what about a barred owl? So I added it and it looks so cute. The owl is probably a bit too light, but does make the image different. It’s certainly unexpected.

Here’s the original with the raven.

Then I wondered if a combo Raven and owl would work. Is that surreal or just weird? I do like her eye looking down at the bird.

So I need your thoughts. Please weigh in. The choices are raven, owl, or combo bird. Or maybe a completely different bird.

Here’s the show advertisement. 

For the owl.

Unspoken 

As I worked on this surreal image it became a portrait of home.

A Pennsylvania white oak rooted in dark water and a barred owl keeping watch.

She is rooted here, holding what can no longer stay buried.

It doesn't come out as words.

It breaks through the surface as light.

For the raven

Unspoken

I started out just trying to make a surreal image. It turned into something more personal — a reflection on isolation and what it feels like to hold things inside for too long.

The moon feels distant. The raven is simply present. She remains rooted in the dark water, carrying something that can no longer stay buried.

It doesn’t come out as words.

It breaks through the surface as light.

Thanks for reading. 

Chris

Editing a photo in prep for creating

 I decided to work on the composition for the recycle show before creating a pattern.

The theme is once upon a time for the show next April. I’m doing the streetcar image that I call the last journey.

Here’s the image.

I decided to edit out the streetcars that you can barely see. This is what I get as the image after that. Still editing to do when I make the pattern to work from and while I create the piece in plastic bags. I’m excited to start working on it. Visually creating those textures and rust will be interesting especially in plastic. 

The Last Journey

Once upon a time, these streetcars were filled with people going places. Over the years they fell into disrepair and now sit quietly on decaying tracks.

I grew up in Pittsburgh and rode streetcars to school, to art classes, and into the city. They carry many memories for me—of places I went, things I saw, and a time that is now gone. They are my once upon a time.

I chose to make this piece from discarded plastic bags because, unlike the streetcars of my childhood, plastic does not fade into memory or quietly disappear. It remains. By using this stubborn, leftover material to portray something I remember with affection, the work brings together two very different remnants of the past: one cherished, the other an enduring consequence of what we leave behind.

Thanks for reading.

Chris