Croissants, coffee and tin assemblages good for nostalgic sentiments.
Not yet eight in the morning and the Columbia City bakery is abuzz with humming Air Conditioning and chatting regulars. My first cup of water processed decaf finished, I'm ready for the twenty-five cents refill. Today's Morning Roll (same mille feuilles pastry as croissant) is filled with a touch of Linser (raspberry) jam and almond paste, and I could have easily put away a supersized.
Two years ago I thought this bakery's croissant below par, their drip coffee so-so. Last Monday, after rave reviews in weeklies and on blogs, I decided to give them another try. Thrilled to find the long time French breakfast favorite had more than improved, as had the drip coffee. Since I drink organic Swiss water processed decaf at home, my standards are high and wishing for a refill is a good sign.
So now I'm back to try out other baked items and also to shoot a picture of the artwork I enjoyed looking at the other day. Why I didn't do that then? Perhaps the ulterior motive was that I wanted to have an excuse to return, to sample more of the baked goods, and enjoy the pleasure of starting the morning in a friendly hang-out.
The exhibiting artist William A. Herberholz uses a combination of metal containers, tins of all sizes, and metal 2 or 3-D shapes, such as defunct Dinky toys and ornamental flowers to create collages he mounts onto ply-wood planks.
On the wall closest to my table, right overhead as a matter of fact two pieces are on display that held my attention the other day when I was seated across the room. In the larger one, a blue metal pale, cut apart at its seam, provides the slightly rounded shape of the horizon and sky in a landscape with Irish Setter, duck and bird. The smaller piece, positioned at my seated eye height, was created from the hard cover of a linen bound book titled "Toby". The original printed image of boy with a horse is complemented by two skinny carrots crossed like daggers. Miniature railroad tracks, a child's decorated beach shovel, cut-outs, metal thread; all small elements that on their own wouldn't mean much, are given an extended life by the artist.
The work appears to be nostalgic, media and imagery referring to bygone times, yet is by no means stuffy. Elements from
advertising material may be responsible for an older viewer's associations, the imagery and scenes are intriguing and will amuse or entertain story lovers of all ages.
William A. Herberholz's art would have fit in with "The Old, Weird America", the show that just closed at the Frye Museum.
Sent from my iPhone and edited on blogger because not everything transfers that well.