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WITH TIME TO KILL, I TOOK...
A STROLL THROUGH HOUSTON
| February 15, 2006 - It took a few blocks wandering through downtown to get my bearings and more importantly synch myself with traffic lights and crosswalks. Every time I head back into a major city, it takes a little longer to remember not to dart out into a crosswalk or even step off the curb. Added to the mix is Houston's new and stylish light rail, which quietly sneaks up on you and zooms
out of view just as fast. I've said it before and I'll say it again, but my heart races a bit when I'm surrounded by tall buildings and concrete for as long as the eyes can see. Everyone I know is nearly offended when I tell them I have never gone camping and I never, ever want to. I just don't see the allure of peeing on trees and getting eaten by bugs when you can stay in a
city with museums, bars, and obscene amounts of interesting visual treats - fire escapes, torn down buildings, old ads, graffiti and the like. Add in the occasional crazy person stumbling through and the mix of cultures and strata of income and its a volatile mix of ample material for my brain to process for months.
Houston gets a bad rap for its sprawl and traffic, and both are obscene for anyone who grew up on the East Coast, but it still has some cool districts and nice haunts to explore. I didn't have a lot of time to explore the coolest area - the Montrose District, so I focused my efforts around downtown's gridded streets and skyscrapers. |
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| After taking plenty of pictures and winding through different districts, I ended up in a cool section of town that had all the earmarks of having been revitalized lately. Stuck in the middle of it all was a small tavern that seemed to have some authentic appeal, so I dove into Warren's and immediately felt a kinship with the tiny little bar. It was the early evening, and unfortunately, the barstools were all filled, so I grabbed a vodka tonic and the
Houston Press and started to soak up all Houston had. The bar was old, built of traditional dark wood and railings, and had an eclectic mix of regulars - business men in suits, alcoholics in suits, some single folks and the regulars you could tell they don't leave their stool during the week.
One drink led to another and I left after four, needing to meet up with DMac and the rest of the group at the convention center. As I was wandering back through downtown at dusk, I was snapping pictures left and right when someone shouted from a parked car on the side of the road.
"What are you doing there?"
It was a sheriff in a police car. Apparently, I had some explaining to do. |
| I told him I was taking pictures of buildings, and he continued the banter in his slow East Texas drawl and asked 'Whatfer?'. I told him I was taking pictures of urban decay and the buildings. He looked at the fire escape I was about to capture on film and pointed out it was brand new. I
ceded his point and told him I was interested in the repeating lines and patterns. He asked where I was from and what I did, and I told him I was an artist from Austin, which in Houston is code for liberal American hating faggot. We chatted about Austin and Houston, and he added a slight apologetic tone to his line of questioning when he explained that, "Well, you understand times have changed, you know?" I shook my head and agreed, knowing I reeked of vodka, and said, "Yeah, its really a shame." I was able to continue snapping
photographs, and made it back to the Convention Center without incident.
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Pictures of Houston -click on an image for a bigger view.
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