The priest waves his crucifix through the air, administering last rites, as the guillotine lops off the head of the condemned and the curtain falls on the “French Execution”, one of more than 200 antique coin-operated amusements that comprise Musee Mecanique, tucked away amidst the touristy bustle of San Francisco’s Fisherman’s Wharf.
Musee Mecanique, Laffing Sal
The French aren’t the only ones in the Musee’s phantasmagorical collection that show Grand Theft Auto how it’s done; there’s also an “English Execution”. Indeed, violent and nefarious scenes pervade these machines, some of which date back to the 19th century. One could easily picture a young Thomas De Quincey dropping coins in the “Opium Den”. Elsewhere, the shifty-eyed “Flasher” earns his moniker while “Laffing Sal” and “Jolly Jack” manically yuk it up against the strains of a century-old Wurlitzer Orchestrion.
Musee Mecanique
Musee Mecanique’s founder, the late Edward Zelinsky, began collecting his automatons and amusements in the early 1930s. Today, Zelinsky’s family maintains his legacy in both form and function. Incredibly, all of the arcade’s machines are kept in their original working condition, so bring your pocket change; prices range from one cent to one dollar (most fall in the 25 and 50-cent brackets). Admission to Musee Mecanique is free.
Musee Mecanique
Musee Mecanique
Taylor Street at Fisherman’s Wharf (Pier 45)
San Francisco, CA 94133
P: (415) 346-2000
Website: http://www.museemecaniquesf.com
The Urns of Justice, by sculptor Diana Moore, sit outside of the John M. Shaw U.S. Courthouse, in Lafayette, Louisiana. While they are meant to evoke decorative, anthropomorphic urns of the South and antiquity, one is instead struck by the thought that justice is both blind and brainless.
Things happen on the road. Small miracles that could go unnoticed in daily life. But when you travel you look at everything with a different awareness. You look for signs, literal and figurative. Travel offers answers and also asks questions. It gives you moments that you might never quite understand, but you revisit for years afterward, like a 65mph koan.
I thought nothing of the older couple taking careful steps around the Buddha at Jungle Gardens on Avery Island. The wife asked about the flowers and I answered that I thought the flowers were spider lilies, but I wasn’t exactly sure. A little while later I was walking the path to Bird City and slowed because an older gentleman using a cane was ahead of me. Instead of hurrying past him (as I might normally), I said hello. He reminded me that we had just met at the Buddha. I kept pace with him as we walked toward the observation platform. He was traveling with his wife because their house in Pensacola, FL had been destroyed in the flooding on April 30th. They were waiting for it to be rebuilt. He looked sad and angry all at once, but was making the most of his exile. We watched the snowy egrets for a bit and eventually he left to continue his journey.
The rest of the day held an unexpected level of magic for me. I wanted to see a raccoon in Louisiana (for my own ridiculous reasons) and one appeared for me. Baby peacocks and supermodel lizards happened too. It was a day where I held a consistent level of joy and lived in the moment – something I’m not always very good at doing. We drove out to the Gulf of Mexico and eventually returned to our cottage in New Iberia to freshen up. We decided to go to Lafayette (about 20 miles away) for dinner. We went to a small Thai restaurant in a strip mall that was inexplicably perfect. As we finished our meal a couple approached our table. It was the older gentleman and his wife. He said with a smile, “I’m not sure who is following who.”
After they left I looked at Patrick and asked, “Was that future us?” How did they end up there? How did we? Avery Island was about an hour away from Lafayette. What are the odds?
When I begin editing photos a few days later I found a photo of the older gentleman. I had completely forgotten taking it. I seldom take photos of strangers, but I just liked how he looked amid the huge trees and verdant landscape.
These unexpected intersections are part of the appeal of travel that is impossible to explain. I hope I see them on the road again.
If, in the world of outsider art, Baltimore’s American Visionary Art Museum (AVAM) represents the hip urban neighborhood where Chihuahuas sip their own six-dollar lattes, Louisiana’s Abita Mystery House is the somewhat sketchy part of town that still draws local creative-types for its cheap rents and lack of pretense.
Abita Mystery House – click for larger image
Don’t get me wrong – I love AVAM; it’s a truly unique space in the art museum world that celebrates untrained artists whose work is generally born of very personal and singular obsessions, and a must-see for anyone visiting Baltimore.
But I can’t help saying it: in presentation and form, the Abita Mystery House is better than AVAM.
Abita Mystery House – click for larger image
Situated in the hamlet of Abita Springs, a few miles north of Lake Pontchartrain and about a 45-minute ride from New Orleans, the Mystery House is a rough-hewn, meandering compound of buildings that include a century-old Creole cottage and vintage filling station, all packed with (and covered in) the work of local artist John Preble, utilizing recycled ephemera and cultural detritus drawn from just about every facet of modern existence. Road signs. Circuit
Abita Mystery House – click for larger image
boards. An Airstream trailer. Here, visitors will also find the likes of a Feejee Mermaid; a two-player piano; a 32-foot alligator; a crashed flying saucer; and sundry animated miniature scenes, including one that depicts a New Orleans jazz funeral. (TIP: Bring quarters for the fortune-telling and souvenir-token machines.)
Abita Mystery House – click for larger image
Yet, for all of this strangeness, there is certain sincerity evident in everything on display; nothing feels like it’s trying too hard – not too shiny, not too “forced”. Even Preble himself is not the overtly misanthropic and slightly deranged hermit one might expect to find behind the curtain, but rather a genuine, quite affable fellow as quick to strike up friendly conversation with visitors as hand them a leech (really).
Abita Mystery House – click for larger image
And the gift shop is no less engrossing than the museum itself, stocked with everything from very cool screen-printed AMH t-shirts to reasonably priced matted prints of Preble’s incredibly detailed woodcuts depicting various animals (including a nutria); select quotes (“If there were no bad people, there would be no good lawyers.” – Charles Dickens); and blues legends like Slim Harpo and Bessie Smith.
Abita Mystery House – click for larger image
Indeed, the Abita Mystery House is a lens through which visitors may vicariously view the world as seen by a most unique and talented artist, exemplifying wonderfully bizarre Americana in the tradition of such obsession-built roadside attractions as Rock City and Coral Castle. Like those places, AMH offers visitors an experience that will long outlive any chain restaurant meal or mass-produced trinket.
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