Wrapping the Art Alliance

Christo and Jeanne-Claude would be very proud of us. 

On July 4, 2025, the Philadelphia Art Alliance, a beloved building that stands next to Rittenhouse Square, suffered a devastating fire that required the attentions of 120 Philadelphia fire fighters and a simply enormous amount of water, which continued to flow gently down the building's front steps for an amazingly long period of time. 

Just walking around the site, I got the sense that the fire may have started at the back of the ground floor, where I believe there was a kitchen. But to this day the general public has no good idea of what happened in this fire. (For what we do know, click here and here and here and here.) 

Garden area at the back of the building.

The fire certainly had a lovely time raging through this old building, which had quite a lot of wood in it. I vividly remember, as a sometime visitor to the upper floors, years ago, the interesting sensation of walking up the squeaky, beautiful wooden stairs.  

We also know that the fire destroyed the roof. Here's a picture of the top story, directly under the roof, with a view of the sky through one of the glassless windows.

After the suppression of the fire, attention naturally turned to stabilizing the structure and securing the premises. And here is where I got a lovely surprise. As I was walking down 18th street one day, I noticed that the Art Alliance building had been largely wrapped in protective plastic sheeting.

I had never seen a building wrapped before. I knew that it was common to wrap smaller things, like boats being stored for the winter. 

And then I immediately thought of Christo and Jeanne-Claude, the dynamic duo who wrapped a whole Australian cliff in plastic sheeting in 1969. (For a lot more, click here.)

The only Christo and Jeanne-Claude installation that I got to see with my own eyes was The Gates, which showed up in Manhattan's Central Park in 2005. I actually walked through some of the gates; there were a lot of them. According to the Whitney Museum of American Art, they were inspired by Japanese torii gates. 

And here I was in the present day, staring at an installation of white plastic. I found myself wondering if Christo and Jeanne-Claude had inspired this concept of wrapping buildings. In other words, was it yet another example of life imitating art?

As I was looking at the wrapped Art Institute, I noticed a little sign on the wrapping. You can see it in the picture above. Actually there are several of these signs. Here's a closeup.

The sign says the company's name is Global Wrap, and helpfully adds, "We are the original shrink wrap company since 1980." 

Well, Christo and Jeanne-Claude wrapped an Australian cliff in 1969, so who has priority here?

Then I remembered about the shrink-wrapped boats. I went online and found a Gregg Mansfield on a site called Boatmart, and he told me the shrink-wrap process for boats was patented in 1980.  

It turns out that Christo and Jeanne-Claude wrapped a Volkswagen Beetle in 1963. 

I thought I was on a roll, but then I hit a bump. I got the funny feeling that there were people who were using plastic to wrap big objects well before the dynamic duo came on the scene. And that's probably true; I just can't prove it. The internet does not appear to be interested in this subject. 

We do know that wrapping small objects with plastic became very popular after World War II, with the introduction of Saran Wrap, aka cling wrap, which can be found in a drawer of the typical American kitchen, along with aluminum foil and wax paper. 

The only other lead I had was the wrapping of pallet loads with plastic sheeting. Before the plastic wrapping, the boxes sitting on a pallet were secured with metal straps. So when did the changeover happen? It turns out the answer is 1972. That was when a company named Lantech introduced something called the "stretch wrapper," a machine which made wrapping pallet loads with plastic pretty easy. 

It was around this time that I became aware that shrink wrapping and stretch wrapping are two different things. I'm still a bit hazy on how they differ. 

And then something else struck me: The wrap on the Volkswagen was not shrink wrap. Ditto for the Australian cliff. The dynamic duo was wrapping, but not with shrink wrap. So maybe Christo and Jeanne-Claude were leaders in wrapping but not in shrink wrapping. 

I think I can live with that. I'll let you in on a secret. Every time I walk by the Art Alliance, which can easily happen several times a day, I find myself thinking of Christo and Jeanne-Claude and the Australian cliff. And it makes me happy.

See also Putting Some Park into Old Parking Lots, Paul P. Cret and Rittenhouse Square, Lighting Rittenhouse, What Came Before the Laurel.

"I propose to fight it out on this line if it takes all summer." - Ulysses S. Grant, 1864

Grant at Cold Harbor, June 1864 (Library of Congress).

With a father from southern Alabama and a mother from northern New York State, I think I naturally took an interest in the centennial of the Civil War, which occurred when I was in my mid-teens. After all, who was I?

I read quite a lot, and took a particular interest in General Stonewall Jackson. I got a full dose of "There is Jackson standing like a stone wall!" And Jackson's final sentence, "Let us cross over the river, and rest under the shade of the trees." 

I won't bore you with my odyssey. I eventually came out on the Union side. But I had a lingering disdain for U.S. Grant, who was willing to tolerate some pretty amazing casualty numbers.

Frankly, I still don't like Grant. And I don't think he was a great president, either.

But, on May 11, 1864, during the Battle of Spotsylvania Court House, he sent a message back to Washington that resonates with me today: 

"I propose to fight it out on this line if it takes all summer." 

Grant's casualty numbers at Spotsylvania Courthouse, and before that in the Wilderness, were truly eye-popping. And yet he, and the army, and the Union, fought on. And not just to the turning of the leaves in the fall of 1864. 

Robert E. Lee didn't surrender at Appomattox Courthouse until April 1865. 

Which brings me to our present situation. If you're feeling tired, if you're dismayed by all the things that are going wrong, if you think the Democratic party needs to dump its consultants, if you don't like the fact that ICE troopers are shooting people whenever they feel like it, I'm with you.

This slug fest is no fun, and we're still just holding the line. Our victories are defensive. We'll continue to win a lot in the courts, and we'll also see more slaughter in the streets by government agents who belong in prison. The real counter-offensive is still in the future.

You need to decide whether you're in this for the duration of hostilities. And one place to start is to ask yourself, can you say, "I propose to fight it out on this line if it takes all summer."

And then don't think the war will be over right after Labor Day. 

See also Politics on a Very Hot Day, Unleashing the Oligarchs.

Baptizing the Bike Lane

Dr. Barbara Friedes died two years ago.

Two years and still no effective protection on the Pine-Spruce bike lanes. The memorial was at 8:30 a.m. on Sunday, July 19, at the spot where Barbara was killed, at 18th and Spruce, in front of the Beth Zion Beth Israel synagogue. And there was a special guest, a miniature plastic jersey barrier. These plastic jersey barriers (normally much bigger) are very popular around construction sites. They are light and easy to move around, until you fill them with water. And then when you're done with them, there's a valve that lets you empty the water out.

Anyway, everybody was asked to bring a full water bottle and, after the speeches, empty their water bottles into the little jersey barrier. 

Just so everyone understands, the plan to protect the Pine and Spruce bike lanes does not involve jersey barriers. It involves low pieces of concrete that remind me of throat lozenges. These are installed not head to toe, but with gaps between them. At least that's my understanding.

Before we got to this little piece of theater - I must say, I did it and I felt good afterward - we had a number of very good speeches, including one from City Council President Kenyatta Johnson, who, at the appropriate time, also poured water into the little jersey barrier.

City Council President Kenyatta Johnson

Philly Bike Action was the main sponsor of this event, and a PBA member offered a very good summary of the history and our present situation. We also heard from Barbara's husband, mother, and sister, and a colleague from Children's Hospital of Philadelphia, locally known as CHOP. 

We can, at another time, discuss the insanity of not protecting these bike lanes, and also what we can do about that. There is a lawsuit, and I think the plaintiffs think they have us pinned. But I'm not so sure. 

All that, though, is for another day. This day was for Barbara, and her family, and her friends and colleagues. And, frankly, all of us. A bad thing happened that should not have happened. And those of us who are alive have to deal with that. And I felt there was some healing on this day, along with a firm resolve to make things better.

Barbara Friedes died on July 17, 2024, at the age of 30. It turns out her favorite flower was the sunflower. 

See also The Vigil for Dr. Friedes, Loading Zones Are the Key, Mayor Parker Signs No Stopping Bill, A Scheme of Chaos, On the Art Museum Steps, Somotomo.

Trump as Dracula

How do I make this funny?

Okay, let's face it. Trump is not funny. Ridiculous, yes. Fart jokes abound, and then there are the various forms of actual incontinence. But I find myself feeling slimy.

I really like the idea of Trump sucking blood out of the neck of the American people. Good visual image - two puncture points, etc. - but frankly it's not funny.

There's also the Nosferatu angle. In the 1922 movie, Count Orlok (the vampire in this version of the story) shows up in a coastal town in northern Germany and brings with him the plague. Lines up with the saying that everything Trump touches dies. 

I could go on. The cabinet members who all have two little puncture marks on their neck, and are also busy sucking all the blood from the American people, who, at the end, all look very white.

But it's not funny.

Then I found the little guy at the top of this story. I've never seen him in person, but he sits on a low wall next to a castle in Budapest, and he's perhaps 18 inches tall. He's actually a bit famous. He's not just Dracula, he's also Bela Lugosi, the Hungarian actor who played the vampire in the 1931 movie Dracula. (The sculptor, Mykhailo Kolodko, has developed a specialty of making small statues which often have a humorous side. They're all over Budapest. For more, click here.) 

I find it hard to get scared of a vampire who's not much bigger than a bat. And it's clear that he's only thirsty for knowledge. 

What is he reading in that enormous book? Perhaps he's reading about a fellow called Vlad the Impaler, who may or may not be a distant relative. Or he may be reading the collected works of Calvin and Hobbes, possibly with appendices summarizing the works of Locke and Luther.

For comparison, here's a picture of Donald Trump holding up what's reliably said to be a bible. If you're into semiotics or iconography, you may notice that the book is not open, and he is not reading it. Instead he is brandishing it as a weapon. That's about Donald's speed - and this is back then, before he completely lost his marbles.  

So I finally found a way to see Dracula as funny. However, I failed in my larger quest. Donald Trump is simply not funny. Ridiculous, pathetic, and - let's face it - frequently terrifying. But he will never provide the cathartic release of humor. And I think that is possibly his greatest failing. In the end, I don't think you can win in this country if your team is composed entirely of sour, dead-end haters. There aren't enough of them.

Many strongmen have ruled countries and empires by terror for very long reigns. Just look at Joe Stalin. But, in America today, I don't think that flies. People used to refer to Reagan's act as fascism with a smile. And I think that was his competitive advantage.

Some may argue for the cathartic release of tragedy, but Trump is no Hamlet, or even Macbeth. His shtick lacks moral gravity, and provides no resolution. 

On to the dung heap of history, Donald. You'll be happy there, surrounded by excrement, straw, dead mice, and the pervasive odor of corruption.

Bonus item: Here's a picture of Frank Rizzo's face being erased. The mural was located in Philadelphia's Italian Market. People who didn't like Rizzo kept defacing it, and eventually the people responsible for maintaining it gave up. I've often called Rizzo Philadelphia's first fascist mayor. He still has many admirers in Philadelphia, but his mural is no more.

News flash: Facebook reports that someone has stolen the little Dracula/Bela Lugosi statue in Budapest. Why would anyone want to do that? You certainly wouldn't want this little creature flitting around your bedroom in the night. I hope all turns out well, and there are no puncture holes in the felons' necks. (Now there are reports that the artist may have removed the statue for maintenance.) 

One very final thought: “You can fool all the people some of the time and some of the people all the time, but you cannot fool all the people all the time.” According to Time magazine, Abraham Lincoln probably never said this. And the current occupants of the White House have clearly never given any thought to the idea that there were limits to the effectiveness of their mendacity. But the statement strikes me as a core truth about the American people, to be ignored at your peril.

See also Unleashing the Oligarchs, The Face of Fascism, Little Karl, Somotomo, The 800-Pound Gorilla in the Oval Office, Is Elon Musk a Vampire?

Red Baiting Comes Back

Why I think it won't work

Near Flatbush Ave., Brooklyn, 2024.

Quick answer: the Berlin Wall fell in 1989, and most people now alive in America barely know what a bomb shelter is.  

Donald Trump is trying to launch yet another American Red Scare. We had a big one after World War I and the Russian Revolution, and another big one after World War II - the commies took over eastern Europe, we "lost" China to the ChiComs, Joe McCarthy has a little list.

Both of these Red Scares worked big-time. They scared the patootie out of ordinary Americans, who thought the commies were coming, and would knock on the door of their new house in a brand-new suburb, and demand the keys to the family car, and drive away. Bye-bye car. How do you live in a suburb without a car?

Nowadays we're still scaring the patootie out of small school children by making them hide under their desks or in a closet. But the threat now comes from the Second Amendment, and that of course is as American as apple pie, and so, if you're not dead, just pick up your trauma and march on.

The world has moved on from Red Scares. People don't think commies are coming for their cars. There is no boogie-man like Joe Stalin in the Kremlin. In fact, Donald Trump, our president, just loves Vladimir Putin, the current occupant of the Kremlin. 

I don't see how you can bring back the Red Scare. Stephen Miller will try,  because he's running out of bullets. But this one looks like a dud.

Near Ft. Greene Park, Brooklyn, 2025.

See also There's Got to Be a Better Way, A Shortage of Serviceable Ducks, Slingshot.

The Golden Shower Returns

Maybe he's enjoying it (again).

I'm not sure the typical American will be able to read this picture easily. So I'm going to help out. The prime minister of Italy, Giorgia Meloni, is standing at a second-floor balcony in a charming little Italian hill town. She is pouring a piss pot full of pee on the head of the president of the United States, Donald Trump. Trump is holding some sticks in his hands. These may be highly symbolic in Italian culture, but frankly I have no idea what they mean.

Long and short, this is sort of the anti-Romeo and Juliet balcony scene, where Juliet says, "O Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?" Juliet is making an attempt to bridge the gap between her family, the Capulets, and Romeo's family, the Montagues. 

Instead, Meloni is telling Trump to buzz off.

By the way, emptying pee pots from an upper window was a very old European tradition. It's fairly clear that it dates back at least to the Romans, although they often set up large vessels by the front door of their apartment buildings where people were encouraged to dump their pee pots. The urine collected could be used in tanning hides.

There's a remote possibility that the British English term for bathroom - the loo - derives from an old Parisian custom. Parisians would empty their chamber pots from upper floor windows, but being considerate of their neighbors who might be passing below, they would call out "Garde l'eau," which means "Watch out for the water." 

But anyway, if you want to get rid of an unwanted suitor, this was, for many years, an available tactic. And I think it pretty accurately describes the hosing that Giorgia Meloni just gave to Donald Trump. Our president, you know.

See also Scavengers and Scow Trimmers, I Found a Picture on a Wall.

World Cup Watch Party

Mexico v. South Korea 6/18/26

The game is at Estadio Guadalajara in Zapopan, Mexico. The watch party is at 18th and Lombard in Philadelphia. Kickoff 9 p.m. Philadelphia time.

Waiting to get in.

The last time I shot this patch of asphalt I was covering a car crash. See Mayhem on my Corner. I prefer watch parties.