It's a strange sight. In a somewhat seedy commercial area on Chouteau Avenue is a car and truck repair facility that sits in the middle of a whole block, surrounded by a big yard. It is filled with junked sections of military aircraft including jets, prop planes and helicopters. The place never seems to change. I have no idea what it is about, other than perhaps the owner's fancy. For that matter, I never see any signs on business activity. One of our little mysteries.
This stuff rarely passes my lips but if what they sell is better than what's made the easy way, I don't think I'd even pull into the parking lot. A neighbor used to own this place but I think he decided he had a higher calling in life. Big Bend and Shrewsbury for the locals.
I've been complaining (and boring you) for some time about how dull things are around here, how little there is to shoot. Leaden skies, temperature hovering around freezing but no snow. Blah. So I go out cruseing.
This sign is a local landmark. Versions of it (neon in the past) had been around before I showed up here for college in 1967. All St. Louisans know it. It is on a hilltop and coming down Clayton Road or I 64 you can see it from far away. The Amoco brand has almost disappeared. It has a complicated history, now being pretty much merged into BP (which most Americans don't know means British Petroleum). See https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Amoco
There is a show going around with very large high-resolution photographs of Michelangelo's paintings in the Sistine Chapel. It's stunning. The exhibit closes here soon and Mrs. C and I went to see it last weekend. This is from a complex panel about judgment day. It just seemed about right for the time.
My mental health is still not in tip top shape and it isn't the time for beautiful or humorous images. Besides, I have next to no new material. This bare metal tree next to the art museum, Roxy Paine's Placebo, feels about right.
