The Tripoli Shrine Temple

Posted on October 1, 2019 by admin

Last night at around 11, or just an hour before September ended, I sat on my deck outside in short sleeves, in comfort. Warm winds blew. The day had been summer-like, in the mid-80s at least, and October 1 has been roughly the same. Rain is coming tonight, though, and so are cooler temps.

I don’t have any interest in becoming a Shriner, but I have to like a fraternal organization whose members wear fezzes and meet in gilded, onion-domed buildings inspired by the 19th-century popular vogue for Orientalism. I’ve seen Shriners in their little cars buzzing along parade routes, and once upon a time I went to a Shrine Circus in a temple that the Shriners later sold, and which has been sold again.

In Milwaukee, on Wisconsin Ave., the Shriners built themselves an exceptional edifice, the Tripoli Shrine Temple, taking inspiration from the Taj Mahal.
No example of Moorish Revival is complete without stone camels, I think. Especially considering that the Shriners originally called themselves the Ancient Arabic Order of the Nobles of the Mystic Shrine. Two camels are perched beside the front entrance steps.

The statue to the right of Shriner and child is a nod to the Shriners Hospitals for Children, of which there are 22 in North America (though none in Milwaukee).
The temple, designed by Clas & Shepard of Milwaukee and completed in 1928, is every bit as ornate inside as out.
Second floor.
Looking up.
There was no shortage of Shriners around, helping show off the place.
This one gave a short talk about the building. He had interesting things to say, especially about the countless thousands of tiles on the floors and wall. Literally countless, since no one kept count or has made a count. He said that during the interior construction of the temple in the late ’20s, a family of four skilled in tilework lived in the temple, staying until they were done a few years later.

Main Street, Frankenmuth, Michigan

Posted on September 11, 2019 by admin

One thing I didn’t expect while we strolled along Main Street in Frankenmuth, Michigan, on Labor Day — yet another walkable main street — was a life-sized bronze of a fudge maker. Yet there he is.
According to the plaque, it’s Gary F. McClellan (1940-2015), “entrepreneur, leader, friend, husband and father.” He must have had something to do with Zak & Mac’s Chocolate Haus, which is behind the statue. That’s one of a string of small stores along the street whose customers are the tourists who come to Frankenmuth, a farm town settled by Bavarians in the 19th century that eventually added a tourist component.
A successful component, I’d say. Lots of people had come to town on Labor Day.
I’d read a little about the settlement of the area by Bavarians, interestingly before 1848, as an Indian mission that never really panned out because most of the Indians were already gone by then. Even so, the doughty colonists stayed. Their descendants are probably pretty thick on the ground in this part of the state.

Modern visitors come to wander through the shops, many with that Bavarian look. That’s what we did.

Also they come to eat.
So did we. In fact we had Zehnder’s chicken, though we took a to-go family pack to a picnic table behind the restaurant: fried chicken, beans, macaroni, potato salad, rolls. Aside from a few interrupting bees, we enjoyed it.

Frankenmuth also sports such sights as a maypole fountain, a popular place for posing.
Later I read a little about Bavarian maypoles. The idea is similar to English maypoles, but not quite the same. Maybe that’s the real source of dispute between the UK and the EU — the regulation of maypoles. Just a thought.

In the various sources that I’ve consulted — skimmed — the early history of Frankenmuth gets some attention, such as in this short history of the place. But modern Frankenmuth, that is, its invention as a tourist town after World War II, gets short shrift. To my way of thinking, that’s as interesting as its history as a German colony in Michigan.

There are some hints here, however, in the Frankenmuth media kit, of all places. From the “significant dates,” you learn that Zehnder’s Restaurant, which is a sprawling place with a lot of dining rooms, got its start as the Exchange Hotel in 1856. Another 19th-century hotel, Fischer House, later became the Bavarian Inn, also with a large restaurant.

When did Frankenmuth start playing up its Bavarian-ness? Looks like the 1950s.
From the timeline: 1957: Rupprecht’s Sausage was the first building decorated in the “Bavarian” architecture. 1958/59: Zehnder family… redecorates the Fischer Hotel in Bavarian architectural style. 1960 & Current: More buildings adopt “Bavarian” architecture.

A Bavarian Festival started in 1963 but the town didn’t around to an Oktoberfest until 1990. In 2001, a Bavarian-themed mall opened south of the Cass River along Main Street.

Sounds like a few places — the chicken restaurants — were long-time draws. After all, metro Detroit and the once-prosperous Flint aren’t that far. But in the postwar age of auto tourism, the town’s merchants happened on a winning formula of more than just chicken, one that dovetailed with the town’s origin: faux Bavaria.

That might sound like criticism of Frankenmuth as “inauthentic,” a vague epithet if there ever was one, but I refuse to go down that road.

Of course the place isn’t really Bavarian. No one thinks that. Visitors respond to it as a pleasant place to be. People were out and about on a summer day, having an innocuous good time, and supporting businesses that exist here and nowhere else. You could call it an homage to Bavaria, but in any case it’s an authentic American town with a popular theme.

Main Street, Midland, Michigan

Posted on September 10, 2019 by admin

Midland, Michigan, seems like a prosperous town. That would probably be the impact of Dow Chemicals and related businesses — note that the city seal makes no bones about better living through chemistry — but in any case prosperity makes for a pleasant main street.

Main Street runs more-or-less parallel to the Tittabawasee River more than a block away. We arrived around lunchtime on September 1.

We had lunch outdoors at a Mexican restaurant on Main Street. The food was good and a few of the other patrons were dressed for some occasion or other.
I didn’t ask. We noticed during our Main Street stroll various golf-ball-based artworks.
Those are part of the Downtown Midland Summer Sculpture Series. As usual for such displays, the works will be around in the summer, then auctioned for charity come fall. Chicago’s Cows on Parade in 1999 kicked that sort of thing off in the U.S., with the idea borrowed from Europe.

According to Downtown Midland, the golf ball theme is because the inaugural Dow Great Lakes Bay Invitational was held this summer in Midland by the LPGA.

A few more. This one’s mildly unsettling.
Candy, eh?
This counts as golf-ball based?
Looks to me like a cold-environment creature that floats in the upper atmosphere of Neptune. That’s something I would think of, anyway.

A few blocks to the northwest of the golf balls, but still on Main Street, is the Midland County Courthouse, unlike any other I’ve seen.
Not just a Tudor-style courthouse, a colorful one dating from the 1920s.
Bloodgood Tuttle of Cleveland, who did work in Shaker Heights, is credited with designing the building, and apparently there are murals inside.

I’ve been conditioned by illustrations and movies, of course, but I couldn’t shake the idea that if Faerieland needed a court to dispense Faerie justice, it would look like this.

Lansing Walkabout

Posted on September 9, 2019 by admin

On the last day of August, we arrived in Lansing, Michigan, for a look. I’d only passed through once, Labor Day 2000 as it happened, to find the state capitol closed, as you’d expect. This time I hoped it would be open on Saturday, as it usually is. It wasn’t.

Still, it’s a handsome structure with a lanky cast-iron dome.
“In January 1872, a plan (called ‘Tuebor,’ meaning, ‘I will defend’) submitted by architect Elijah E. Myers of Springfield, Illinois, was selected,” says the capitol’s web site regarding its development, which proceeded throughout that decade. “Myers moved to Michigan to supervise construction and lived for the rest of his life in his adopted state.

“Materials for the building came from all over the country and even from abroad. Although the millions of bricks that make up its walls and ceilings were locally made in Lansing, the stone facade came from Ohio, the cast iron for the dome and floor beams from Pennsylvania, and the marble and limestone floors from Vermont.”

The interior is supposed to be ornate, but that will have to wait. Instead, we were able to look at the scattering of memorials on the grounds, including this unusual one to the First Michigan Sharpshooters Volunteer Regiment.

Another memorial you don’t see that often — but not never — is to the men who fought in the war with Spain, but also in the Philippine Insurrection and the China Relief Expedition.
A block east of the capitol grounds is Washington Square. At least, that’s what the map calls it. It’s a section of Washington Ave. lined with various businesses, and good for a walk on a late summer afternoon.
Formerly a theater. The Strand, opened in 1921 as one of the largest vaudeville stages in Michigan, designed by Chicago architect John Eberson.
He did a lot of theaters, many of which don’t exist any more. The auditorium of the Strand disappeared to make way for office and retail space in the mid-80s.

The Hollister Building, the last remaining of Lansing’s major commercial buildings developed in the early 20th century (and renovated in the early 21st century).
Boji Tower, around the corner toward the capitol on Allegan St. and the tallest building in Lansing.
An impressive pile of art deco bricks that got in just under the wire: construction started in 1929. The Boji family is a recent owner; earlier names are the Olds Tower (as in auto pioneer Ranson Olds), the Capital National Bank Tower and the Michigan National Bank Tower. The fairly obscure Hopkins and Dentz of New York designed it.

East of the capitol a few blocks is public art so new that it doesn’t appear on the StreetView image from the summer of 2017.
“Portrait of a Dreamer” by Ivan Iler, installed in December 2017. Naturally, Roadside America has the story: “The giant mechanical head is 15 feet high and is built out of almost two tons of aluminum and stainless steel.

“Visitors are encouraged to turn a crank at its base to move the gears, which spill out of the head toward Lansing’s cultural district. The purpose of the sculpture is to turn visitors’ heads while they turn the crank, so that they notice the science center and museums that they otherwise might miss along Michigan Ave.”

Divers Michigan Bridges

Posted on September 4, 2019 by admin

Since the air was still warm and we had a dog with us, much of the recent Michigan trip involved outdoor destinations. The first of these was a modest yet remarkable park outside Battle Creek, the Historic Bridge Park in Calhoun County. The park is on the North Branch of the Kalamazoo River, near where it passes under I-94. I’ve driven by many times without a clue that it was there.

The riverside part of the park is pretty.
But it was the historic bridges, assembled here from other parts of Michigan, that we came to see. A superb collection of Machine Age structures, but that didn’t dawn on me until I’d walked over some of them. Such as the 133rd Avenue Bridge, originally located in Allegan County and built in 1887.
A bridge originally on the Charlotte Highway in Ionia County, built in 1886.
The 20 Mile Road Bridge, originally in Calhoun County, dating from 1906.
The Gale Road Bridge from Ingham County, built in 1897.
“The park allows metal truss bridges that have become insufficient for their original location to be preserved for their historic and aesthetic value…” says HistoricBridges.org. “Historic Bridge Park is the first of its kind in the entire United States.”

“The restoration of the metal truss bridges in the park was directed by Vern Mesler with the support of Dennis Randolph, former Managing Director of what was then called the Calhoun County Road Commission.

“They carried out the restoration with an unprecedented attention paid to maintaining as much of the the original bridge material as possible, and exactly replicating any parts that required replacement. For example, during restoration, failed rivets on the bridges were replaced with rivets, not modern high strength bolts. The bridges in Historic Bridge Park represent some of the best metal truss bridge restoration work to be found in the country.”

The park also features a sizable iron sculpture.
A nearby plaque says “Historic Bridge Park Sculpture Project, 2002.” Sculptor, Vernon J. Mesler, who must be the Vern mentioned above, and the fellow who did this specialized article.

A cool bit of work.
In Midland, Michigan, about a block from Main Street, is the Tridge.
It’s a three-way bridge where the Chippewa River flows into the Tittabawassee River, first opened in 1981 and renovated a few years ago, which might be why it looked fairly new. The brainchild of the nonprofit Midland Area Community Foundation — note the tri-bridge-like drawing over its name — the local Gerace Construction erected the structure, information about which is at its web site.

This kind of Y bridge isn’t that common, though there are some here and there in the world, including two others in Michigan, in Brighton and Ypsilanti. Maybe Michigan has an affinity for odd vectors. This is the state of the Michigan left, after all.

At the Dow Gardens in Midland, a pedestrian bridge over St. Andrews Rd. connects the gardens proper with the Whiting Forest, a later addition to the garden.

One of the attractions of the Whiting Forest is its canopy walk. At 1,400 feet long, Dow Gardens assets that it’s the nation’s longest canopy walk. While technically not a bridge — or at least it’s a bridge to nowhere — the walkway does get as high as 40 feet above the ground. There are no stairs to climb. The walkway starts at ground level and rises gradually as it meanders through the forest.

The view from the end of one of the three arms of the canopy walk.
Some views from below.
The skies at that moment were overcast and there had been a little rain earlier, but nothing violent. Bet the canopy’s a thrilling spot to find yourself during an intense thunderstorm. I’m sure people would do it, if Dow Gardens would let them go there, which I’m sure it doesn’t.

A Few Lincoln Park Statues (And Where’s Garibaldi?)

Posted on August 27, 2019 by admin

The southern part of Lincoln Park in Chicago features statues of famous men fairly close together, but not quite within sight of each other. Visible from W. North Blvd., barely — at the other end of a linear garden — is Lincoln.
This isn’t just any Lincoln statue, of which there are many. This is Augustus Saint-Gaudens’ Standing Lincoln, whose formal title is “Abraham Lincoln: The Man,” completed in 1887. Among Lincoln statues, it has few peers.
I understand there are full-sized replicas in both Mexico City and London, where he keeps statuary company with nearby works depicting Winston Churchill, Robert Peel, Benjamin Disraeli, Mahatma Gandhi and others.

Stanford White designed the memorial’s semicircular exedra, where I parked myself for a few minutes.
On the exedra’s left is this curious globe.
The text is Lincoln’s letter to Horace Greely of August 22, 1862. Interesting choice, rather than the Gettysburg Address or part of the Second Inaugural Address, which are carved into the Lincoln Memorial. Perhaps in 1887 the letter was considered the essence of the man.

On the north side of a pedestrian tunnel under W. LaSalle Dr. is a statue of Benjamin Franklin.
The Chicago Park District says: “Joseph Medill, editor of the Chicago Tribune, wrote, ‘I have deemed it a personal duty to keep [Franklin’s] memory fresh in the minds of Chicago’s youth.’ Along with the Old-Time Printers’ Association, Medill hired sculptor Richard Henry Park (1832–1902) to create the Benjamin Franklin Monument. Park came to Chicago from New York to participate in the 1893 World’s Columbian Exposition.

“The monument was originally located on the east side of the Lincoln Park Zoo near the South Lagoon. In 1966, the Chicago Park District moved the bronze sculpture and its white granite base to accommodate an expansion of the zoo.”

Further north, and visible from the South Pond, is the Ulysses S. Grant Monument.
That’s the view from west. I wanted to get a closer look at it, since I never had. All the years I’ve been here, you’d think I would have, but no. The view from the east:
From just under the statue.

Looks like Grant, all right. The park district again: “William Le Baron Jenney, the noteworthy designer of early skyscrapers, recommended that the memorial should include a monumental Romanesque arched structure. More than a dozen artists competed for the project.

“The winning proposal came from Louis T. Rebisso (1837–1899), a Cincinnati-based artist who had emigrated from Italy to America in 1857. Rebisso produced an eighteen-foot-tall equestrian bronze statue of Grant above an elegant version of the arched structure that Jenney had suggested.

“When the sculpture was dedicated in 1891, more than 200,000 people attended the ceremonies.”

Also in this part of Lincoln Park is an empty plinth rising in a bleak little patch of land.
A recent statue removal I hadn’t heard about, like in New Orleans? That didn’t seem likely, especially when I noticed GARIBALDI carved in the plinth. Turns out that Garibaldi was removed — so he could be displayed in a park closer to a Chicago Italian neighborhood at the time. That was in 1982.

You’d think that the park district could get around to putting another statue there after nearly 40 years, but apparently not.

I passed by one more statue in the park on Sunday, back south of LaSalle, and not of a famous man: “Fountain Girl.”
This work has a curious history. I was so curious I sat on a park bench near the statue and looked it up on my gizmo. It is a copy of an earlier work.

The park district: “The piece was sculpted by English artist George Wade in 1893 as a commissioned piece by the Woman’s Christian Temperance Union for the World’s Columbian Exposition in Chicago. The WCTU raised $3,000 for the original public fountain to provide ‘pure drinking water’ as an alternative to liquor.”

The fountain stood at the world’s fair and later in downtown Chicago. Copies of it were installed in other cities. Eventually, the original was located in Lincoln Park, only to be stolen in the 1950s.

“In 2007, the Chicago Park District, the State of Illinois, the Lincoln Park Conservancy and private donors raised funds towards the project. The bronze figure was recast from the Portland, Maine fountain, and it is now installed on its original base.”

Originally, the fountain provided non-alcoholic refreshment for people, dogs and horses, but the park district is quick to point out that the modern version provides non-potable water.

Chance the Snapper Has Gone Home

Posted on August 25, 2019 by admin

I left for college for the first time 40 years ago today. So long ago that I flew on Braniff to get to Nashville, as I like to say. At least to anyone who might remember that airline.

Nothing so milestone-like happened today. At least I don’t think so. Sometimes you quietly pass by milestones and only realize it in retrospect, if then.

Sometimes that’s literally true. On the Trans-Siberian, I knew that some kind of post is visible from the train marking the “border” between Asia and Europe, as you cross the Urals. I missed it. I think I was concerning myself with lunch at that moment.

One place we went today was the former home of Chance the Snapper. That is, Humboldt Park in Chicago. Chance has been returned from the park’s lagoon to Florida. Presumably Florida Man brought him to Chicago at some point.

Temps today were warm but not too hot, so we took a walk around. Plenty of ducks and geese to see. Lilypads, too.
But presumably no gators to bother the people who rent paddleboats.

We’ve visited the park a number of times, including for a look at its various artworks, but today we discovered a curious snail sculpture near one of the footpaths, but also partly covered by bushes.

According to the Chicago Park District: “In 1999, teenagers involved in a Chicago Park District program known as the Junior Earth Team spent several months learning about nature in Humboldt Park. The JETs developed an interpretive trail and provided sculptor Roman Villarreal with notes and sketches for a series of artworks.

“For this project, Villarreal and the students produced three carved artworks that are scattered and remain relatively hidden throughout the park. The three pieces relate to the theme of air, water, and earth. Among the trio is a two-foot tall snail sculpture located northeast of the Humboldt Park Boat House that bears the inscription ‘breathe oxygen.’ ”

Calvary Cemetery, Evanston

Posted on August 21, 2019 by admin

I’ve taken elevated trains between Chicago and Evanston on and off for years. The CTA Red Line has its north terminus at the Howard Station in Chicago, and from there you ride the Purple Line into Evanston.

For a short stretch just north of Howard, the Purple Line passes Calvary Cemetery, which is also called Calvary Catholic Cemetery on maps. It’s a sizable burial ground, with nearly 40,000 permanent residents, stretching from Chicago Ave. along the elevated tracks nearly to Lake Michigan.

So I’ve seen the cemetery from on high for decades, but never wandered the grounds. I decided to do that on Saturday after visiting the American Toby Jug Museum, since the cemetery is only a few blocks to the south.

The monuments and stones are seemingly spaced more widely than usual for a cemetery of mid-19th century vintage. But among the standing stones are a lot of markers flush with the ground, so it’s hard to appreciate the cemetery’s denseness at first.

There are some mausoleums. This one, strangely, had no name on the exterior that I could find.
Ambrose Plamondon, founder and head of the Plamondon Manufacturing Co. in Chicago, a maker of machinery who died in 1896 of an “obstinate pulmonary trouble of long standing.”

His son Charles is interred there as well. He too was a prominent Chicago businessman, but he and his wife Mary had the misfortune to book passage to the UK on the Lusitania in May 1915.

“The couple celebrated their 36th wedding anniversary, 6 May 1915, while on board Lusitania,” says the Lusitania Resource. “Both Charles and his wife Mary were lost in the sinking. Their remains were washed up on the Irish coast, blackened with coal dust, suggesting that they had been sucked into one of the funnels. Both bodies were recovered and identified.”

Here’s the Cuneo family mausoleum, perched on a modest hill.
I’ve happened across the Cuneos before. They acquired an Italianate mansion, now a museum, from ruined businessman Samuel Insull during the Depression. We visited it nearly 10 years ago.

I presume this is patriarch and printing baron Frank Cuneo (1861-1942) in a niche in the front of the structure.
IMCalvary Cemetery Evanston Cuneo You’d think his wife Amelia (1864-1891) would be the other bust adorning the structure, but this face looks a little old for a woman who seems to have died in her 20s giving birth to her fourth child, or at least soon after.

So this is probably Frank Cuneo’s mother, Caterina Lagomercino Cuneo (1828-1900). Maybe she counted as the tough old matriarch and wouldn’t be denied her place of honor.

Most of the Cuneos are interred in the above mausoleum, but not all of them. Frank and Amelia’s eldest son John, who died in 1977, has his own mausoleum not far from his parents and siblings.

There is some funerary art at Calvary.

Including stones whose wear speaks of their impermanence.
A group memorial to the Religious Sisters of Mercy, who have a long history in Chicago.

A number of Chicago mayors are buried here as well, most notably Jane Byrne, who died in 2014. Charlie Comiskey, the baseball boss, is here. Didn’t see either of them, but I wasn’t looking. I was just looking around.

Gentlemen Who Invented Pharmacy

Posted on August 13, 2019 by admin

Not long ago I was finally inspired to find out something that has eluded me for many years. Maybe eluded isn’t the word. I haven’t tried to nail down the information very hard. Or at all, because it isn’t that important.

Non-importance shouldn’t be an obstacle to curiosity, however. So I did some looking around and found out that the statue mentioned in passing by the wisecracking and ever-so-tight Bill Gorton in The Sun Also Rises — literally in passing, since the characters are walking by it — is that of Pelletier and Caventou, which in the mid-1920s was on the Boulevard St. Michel.

Wiki: “In 1820, French researchers Pierre Joseph Pelletier and Joseph Bienaimé Caventou first isolated quinine from the bark of a tree in the genus Cinchona – probably Cinchona officinalis – and subsequently named the substance.”

Sun (Chapter 8): “We walked down the Boulevard [St. Michel]. At the juncture of the Rue Denfert-Rochereau with the Boulevard is a statue of two men in flowing robes.

” ‘I know who they are.’ Bill eyed the monument. ‘Gentlemen who invented pharmacy. Don’t try and fool me on Paris.’ ”

This is what that statue looked like in the time of Sun, courtesy of a card from the collection of Bibliothèque interuniversitaire de santé. Erected in 1900.
As far as I can tell, Rue Denfert-Rochereau — actually Avenue — doesn’t meet Boulevard St. Michel in our time. Close, but not quite. Either the streets have been reconfigured in 90 years or Hemingway was wrong.

In any case, the statue of two men in flowing robes is gone. One of many Paris bronzes melted down by the Germans during the occupation, various sources tell me. Now Pelletier and Caventou have a less literal memorial, or at least they did as of last summer, according to Google Street View.

A reclining figure on a plinth at Boulevard St. Michel and Rue de l’Abbé de l’Epée, evidently part of a fountain, since the memorial is called La fontaine des pharmaciens. Maybe the figure’s stricken with malaria. If I ever make it back to Paris, I’ll make a point of walking by. But I probably won’t be tight.

Chicagoland’s Most Obscure Statue

Posted on August 8, 2019 by admin

Just south of I-90 in the major Chicago suburb of Schaumburg is a district populated almost completely by small- and mid-sized businesses that don’t have any consumer-facing operations, or if they do, they’re elsewhere. It’s a district of single-story office properties ringed by parking lots and connected by streets that are only busy early in the morning or late in the afternoon.

Since this is a reasonably prosperous suburb, some attention has been paid to landscaping, with trees, bushes and grass growing between the buildings and among the lots. But there’s no escaping the fact that the area is an office space equivalent of the 20th-century residential areas of the village, which are spread out. Fashionably dense, the area is not. You need a car around here.

Not long ago I had some business to attend to in the area, and I happened upon a small street named Penny Lane. If you’re the right age, that’s going to make you smile a little, though on this Penny Lane there’s no barber showing photographs or banker with a motorcar or fireman with an hourglass.

But this is on Penny Lane.
I had to stop for a minute and look at that. Luckily, Penny Lane doesn’t have much traffic. None besides me at that moment, in fact. The plaque on the plinth says:

Presented to
THE AMERICAN FOUNDRYMEN’S SOCIETY
by
THE INTERNATIONAL HARVESTER COMPANY
Designed and sculpted by patternmaker Bob Jones
and cast by the employees of the Louisville Foundry Div.
December 3, 1984

On the statue itself, on the receptacle receiving the molten iron, is the following:

FIRST IRON POURED
JAN 17 1949
LOUISVILLE FOUNDRY

The iron statue is on the grounds of the American Foundry Society’s headquarters on Penny Lane. Formerly it was the American Foundrymen’s Society, which sounds like a workers’ organization, but it is (and always has been, I think), an industry trade organization for metalcasting.

The statue was among the last items cast in the Louisville foundry, which IH closed in 1983. Iron’s a little unusual for such a work, but it looks painted and well-tended by the organization. Even better, it has to be the most obscure statue, at least among those on public view, in the Chicago area.

Been There, Seen That

By Dees Stribling

Category Archives: Public Art