At the Kite Festival, Caleb and Sam and Olin share fruit. I was in California at the time, but I've seen the pictures of strange giant squid flying over Milwaukee.
At the Model Train Show in Kenosha. Caleb found the coolest set-up early, and refused to leave this room. This one featured G-sized tracks and trains, with one diesel and two steam locomotives on the track. (I judge a model train set-up by it's Easter eggs, and this one featured cleverly hidden pin-up girls flashing the trains as they passed. Not quite as erudite as the set I once saw that recreated classic comedy bits from the Keystone Cops and Harold Lloyd movies, but how much can one demand of Kenosha, WI?)
Sam, Caleb, and Olin working with Play-Do. They feel that of all the arts, sculpture is the only one in which the form of the art lies latent within the medium. "One applies brush and paint," Sam said, "or one employs the camera, but within the Play-Do itself lies the final form the sculpture will take. One must only find it there, and coax it out." They made a fish, some snakes, and several blobs.
Three men in a tub. In no particular order: the butcher, the baker, the candlestick maker.
Kirsten likes to take these kind of shots of the boys coming through the tubes. I'm no Freudian analyst, so I'm just going to appreciate them for what they are.
At chase.
Sam's been practicing the drums lately. We went to see Paul Cebar play the Chill on the Hill season opener in Bayview's Humbolt Park this past Tuesday, and Sam stood in the middle of a bush with two sticks and made like Neil Pert, playing Kiss covers beautiful and stoned.
I take the photos of the family suddenly emerging from the ends of slides. Again, I'm no Freudian analyst.
Sam and Caleb at their gymnastics class. I forget what this move was called when Reginald "The Crusher" Lisowski did this to Mad Dog Vachon.
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