Archives For history

A Rear View

Mary Liz Ingram —  March 17, 2014 — Leave a comment

It’s been nine years since I sat on the cool marble bench, in a brightly lit room, surrounded by people.

One of my dearest friends by my side, we stared at a very nice, very shapely rear end.

We had quite a conversation about this certain rump, exposed and shining in the overhead light.

We laughed and closed one eye, pretending to give it a pinch from our seats.

We even took a few pictures.

Michelangelo knew how to sculpt a butt. David has quite a nice tushy.

That was not the only time I’ve been mooned by a statue.

We residents of Birmingham, Alabama can be mooned any day of the week by our resident Roman god of the forge, Vulcan.

Sloss Furnace, 12x14 pastel

Sloss Furnace, 12×14 pastel

Vulcan watches over “the Magic City,” which grew so fast in the early 1900s due to the abundance of materials and ability to make iron and steel (hence Sloss Furnaces!). He has a pretty cool story. We had to write reports all about him back in my early school days. Here’s a snippet about Vulcan, but you should really check out Vulcan’s full story.

“Vulcan, Birmingham Alabama’s colossal statue is the world’s largest cast iron statue and considered one of the most memorable works of civic art in the United States. Designed by Italian artist Giuseppe Moretti and cast from local iron in 1904, it has overlooked the urban landscape of Alabama’s largest city since the 1930s.” (source)

So in my pursuit of capturing iconic landmarks and pieces of the “Retro South” with my pastels, I of course am obligated to give homage to Vulcan.

Now, Birmingham residents may notice what I chose to depict in his hand. Vulcan, restored in 1999, now holds a spear. But when I was growing up, he held a lighted torch. It glowed green on days when there were no traffic fatalities, and red when someone had died in an accident.

Perhaps a little strange, a little morbid, a little heavy for kids, but my sister and I were obsessed with seeing if anyone died or not each day. I confess I was a little disappointed when this quirky signal was changed. But hey, my kids still love to see if they can spy Vulcan atop Red Mountain whenever there’s a chance.

And they thought it hilarious the day we were at Vulcan Park, standing on his pedestal overlook, high in the air, looking up at his big naked booty.

Vulcan, 8x13 pastel

Vulcan, 8×13 pastel

Time Goes By

Mary Liz Ingram —  May 10, 2013 — 2 Comments

We arrive in our Mazda 5, which we affectionately call the “mini mini space van.” I’m dressed in my skinny jeans, a loose silky top, my iPhone in my pocket ready to snap some pictures. We walk hand in hand, the kids, my mom, and I, down the street in downtown Birmingham towards the flickering sign of our destination. We wait outside the stage entrance with other families, shivering and huddled against the unexpected cold Sunday air. Most parents are holding phones…sending texts, posting Facebook photos of shivering ballerinas, tweeting a comment here and there about waiting. Finally the doors open and we usher our tiny dancers inside.

Walking around the corner, we follow the flood of locals into a glass foyer, moving slowly in the crush. The area opens to an atrium, and time seems to shift.

The crowd seems to change in my minds eye. The jeans, phones and sandals give way to an elegance from an era past, one of red lipstick and gloves.

Alabama Theater, original photography

Alabama Theater, original photography

The ornate ceiling is bathed in a golden light; rich, red velvet drapes archways and staircases. Moravian stars light up the mirrored accents; “As Time Goes By” drifts into my senses, played softly in the background. I was enveloped in a glowing, decadent atmosphere that transported me to the Alabama Theater’s heyday of the 1920s and 30s.

We make our way to our seats, and I take a moment to entertain the baby by, once again, exploring this beautiful space. We’ve been there several times before; in the Summer, the Alabama Theater plays movies like The Wizard of Oz, Gone With the Wind, Indiana Jones, and Cinderella, and they hold concerts and performances periodically. The impact of the place never gets old, never fades.

I took some photos of our visit, using a lens/film combination that brought out the richness of the place. I hope you enjoy:

For more info on the Alabama Theater, including its restoration, visit http://alabamatheatre.com/about-the-alabama/history/

You must remember this 
A kiss is just a kiss, a sigh is just a sigh. 
The fundamental things apply 
As time goes by.

When Cotton Whispers

Mary Liz Ingram —  February 18, 2013 — 2 Comments

“Art creates a kind of commentary” -Barbara Kruger

I live in the South. Sweet Home Alabama. The southern states of the US are full of a complex history, and for me, it is always strongly felt when I have the rare opportunity to gaze in stillness over a vast field of snow-white cotton.

Cotton Whispers, 24x36" soft pastel on board

Cotton Whispers, 24×36″ soft pastel on board

Stand with me a moment:

It’s a gleaming fall day in Alabama. The sky is brilliantly soft blue as the sun shines intensely at midday, lighting up the tufts of white cotton to full brightness. The grass is becoming dry, multicolored with the changing of season.

Behind me is your average gas station. We’ve stopped to fill up on our way home. You see, I’m a city girl, raised from age two in Birmingham, “the steel city,” the largest city in Alabama. We don’t have cotton fields nearby, and I have grown up in an age in which people don’t pick cotton by hand anymore. I’ve never seen people working fields with anything other than large farming machines.  Continue Reading…

If you’re a Southerner, chances are you’ve spent a long time sitting on a porch listening to stories from your grandparent or great aunt. Most likely, the respected senior was rhythmically swaying on a porch swing or a creaky rocking chair. Mosquitos were probably treating you like a buffet, and the humidity making you feel sticky.  While listening, you may have been picking at the old paint on the porch step. If you’ve been on such a porch on such a day, you’d probably already heard the story several times before, but listened patiently as it was retold yet again.

In our social-media infused, google-run, multi-tasking reality, lazy porch-sitting days require a mental switch and a physical sigh to make the transition. Continue Reading…