It may not be Central Park but it'll do. Again from Cheesman Park here in Denver, again from Clovis Tillman, again a shot we've warmed to since it was sent through yesterday. We got another one in the same vein—from the dark outdoors looking in to a lighted room—but that one was closer: a single window with a lone man visible inside watching the World Series. Gave off too strong an odor of Creep. Not that the dude watching the tube was especially creepy (the room was a bit sad, maybe), but creepy Clovis creeping up on someone's front steps and peeping for a shot? Creepy, no doubt. This shot here makes the point well enough—our lives move indoors during the Long Dark, for better or worse.
Another night-is-beautiful shot from Clovis Tillman, this time from 7th Avenue just south of Cheesman Park. This one took us a minute to warm to but we've warmed. That yellow is dominating the evenings lately—if the foliage weren't enough Denver's amber streetlights are pushing the whole city over the golden edge. Plus that tree trunk looming in the foreground brings just enough menace to the scene. And last, the long-exposure streak of headlights in the background on the westbound side of 7th gives the shot some lively movement. It feels true, not spectacular, like a typical night in the city. Another shot tomorrow presuming Clovis sends one along.
As we've noted before, the Tillmans of Horsehead Crating Company (our in-house Jerks-of-all-trades) have a pagan streak. And for some reason their flavor of paganism starts to simmer as the days get shorter and the nights get longer. Winter brings out their wildness and they tend to stay up all night doing Gods-know-what, sleeping all day. Not so good for work productivity. And us? We're more long-day, warm-night, sleep-with-the-windows-open types. We can get a little gloomy come winter when the bike rides get punishing and the roll-up door to the shop stays closed. So with the forecast calling for the first snow of the season in Denver this week, we're turning this Sandwich blog over to Clovis Tillman for a week of photos of evening, night and early-morning lights, to help us see some beauty in all that darkness. To cheer up our gloom, Clovis sent through a shot of this morning's sunrise in Cheesman park, with another after the jump.
Rounding out a week of posts from in and around our shop compound, here's a last look for now. Clockwise from top left: the corner of the canopy over the pad—rusting steel beam and tube against the brilliant blue of the Colorado sky (our friend Morgan Barnes was once told that that rust-and-sky-blue combination in a sculpture of his made it a kind of "Hillbilly cock art"); the fall fruit of our shop Hawthorn; our beehives among the weeds against the back fence; and our Boston Ivy making steady progress on the block wall of the woodshop. All in all, a very fine place to work.
In case anyone was wondering, we've got the corner of Ellsworth and Galapago—our corner, thank you very much—locked down. No dispute from our neighbors: Gate City Moving on the southeast (good guys, super ramshackle scene, fresh gate); Palace Construction on the southwest (that ridiculous building should be in Tysons Corner, Virginia); our beloved Altieri Instrument Bags shares the northwest yard with us; and that enigma on the northeast (some City and County of Denver IT nerve center). They've all got more employees, bigger buildings, generators, flags, vehicles and what-have-you, but we've got little rubber chairs over the wire smack in the middle of the intersection. Game over. In green and gold, perfect for fall.
You get yourself a hook, a ring and a string and you've got yourself a bottomless waste of time. Next time you come by the shop we'll prove it to you. Hours, days will pass and if you're really good maybe you'll have exceeded the high bars as of this writing: seven of ten and five in a row. A perfect game? Ten for ten? We'd love to see it. Hell, we'd pick you up and carry you around the yard. But come on: not bloody likely. For a fantasy version, click through for an endless loop of ringing the hook.
We've taken time out in the past to hold up our handsome honeybees as model workers. Hardly the first to do that, we know. But northern sea oats? Perhaps a stretch to think of them as workers but they are kicking ass out front of the shop, making themselves quite at home indeed. Propagating both sexually (these lovely seeds are evidence of that) and vegetatively (no sex needed here, just spreading underground via rhizomes like our friends the aspens), they've been gettin' biz-ay in the yard along Galapago. We spend the summer making a bunch of tables and chairs and what-not and they take over while we're not looking. Since he's a total freak for all translucent seeds, Clovis snapped this fancy-boy shot then took a fistful of the seeds one-by-one into the slide scanner. A pair of results below then a full baker's-dozen shots for a Phil Bender effect after the jump.
Another year of growth, another year of rust. That's the way with us and that's the way with our front garden and we're all better for it. The grasses E.B. Tillman set a couple years back have gone buck wild beside the walk and the aspens seem to have made some headway in their negotiations with the unstoppable ailanthus (Chinese sumac, Tree of Heaven, whatever) for a little direct sunlight against the Altieri building to the south. Plus that "db" is really popping off against the deep red of our rusting wall. All is well. Here, the view out front from across Galapago. More shots after the jump and more early fall photos from the shop compound all week.
Attentive DoubleButter watchers, of which we suspect there are a very small handful, will recognize the name from a "Design Graveyard" post some time back: Sheepadillo. Part Sheep, part Armadillo, pure winner. Here's the first real-live, built, production-ready version. Sure, it's basically our SB2 sideboard with our production-style wood legs, but what the hell? It still feels new to us. The first of many: soon, a wardrobe, plus a version with a steel base, steel sliding doors and steel drawer faces. Fresh, all, to be sure. More images, plus an animated gif, after the jump; pricing and ordering soon in the shop section of the site.
Can something so fresh and new be called a classic? We think so, for sure. Five years old and still looking like the new day, this is the original Grasshopper lounge chair in brushed and blinged cold-rolled steel and an especially dapper brown cowhide. We sold a few in this style before settling on the powder-coated hot-rolled steel, but we gotta admit, this one's still our favorite. P Design (where this handsome beast made its debut) may be dead and gone but this original lives on, temporarily on loan to a friend who claimed to be in need. But fair warning, friend: as soon as this post comes down off our home page, we're coming to repo the chair. It's a prize and we want it back. Word on the production Grasshopper follows after the jump.