Two more architectural photos from Paris

With three out of five of us in our family having names beginning with the letter "M," this balcony not far from the Centre Pompidou has always caught my eye. I also like the simple white curtains against the brown window frame. What's not to like?

Like my taste for the films of Guy Maddin (I know other fans must be out there, but I have yet to meet another person who likes, for example, the film "The Saddest Music in the World"), I don't expect my love of this photo to be shared by many. It's minimalist, modern, and it was taken outside the IRCAM building, which in the wonderful book, Paris to the Moon, Adam Gopnik describes as a "modern music institute, which sponsors contemporary composers who write music that so far no one has ever heard." It just makes it all the more appropriate, doesn't it?

This post will likely bump the July Monthly Special off the main page, but even if it's out of sight I hope it won't be out of mind. I'm still hoping to see a lot of you take up the architectural detail challenge.

More architectural detail from Paris

I was out taking some pictures this morning. Here are a few photos--all from a calm residential neighborhood. How would you like to have these ornaments carved into the side of your house? (click on any of the photos for a larger view)

Escargot anyone? Leave it to the French to immortalize a snail in stone.

Are you familiar with Jean de La Fontaine's fable of the Raven and the Fox? I bet the residents of this house know it by heart.

The Lion King, French style?
Just like certain fashions, these details look perfectly at home in Paris but would be a bit ostentatious back home.
So, even though you may not have snails, fables, and lions carved around your neighborhood, you can still celebrate the architectural detail that surrounds you by participating in the July Monthly Special.

Room with a view

I'm not sure if I love this photo I just took, but here are a couple of things I do like about it:

1. The signs of aging: the chipped paint, the faded edges of the street sign. Now if I could just appreciate signs of aging on my face as much as I do on a building.
2. The hint of red and white awning that gives some color and let's you know that a café sits below.
3. Last but not least, the reflection of the Eglise de la Trinité that tells you what kind of a view the person living in that apartment wakes up to every day.

The church, by the way, is a relatively new construction by French standards. It was built during the time when Napoleon III (Napoleon Bonaparte's nephew, who was elected president of the Second Republic and then, when his term was up in 1851, decided to proclaim himself emperor--Don't let this give you any ideas, George W.) had given free reign to Baron Haussmann to modernize Paris. And nothing says "modern" like a 19th-century church built in the Italian Renaissance style, right?

I'll try to do more frequent posts while I'm in Paris, but meanwhile, I hope to see more links of your own architectural photos on the July Monthly Special.

King of the World (or Google Analytics Risk)

This post has nothing to do with photography, but I haven't had a chance to do a new architectural post for this month's special yet (and it seems I'm not the only one), so...

Ever play Risk? You know, the board game of complete world domination? Well, look at this screen shot from google analytics (a site that lets you track how many hits you're getting) and tell me it doesn't make you think of Risk. No? I guess it's just me.

A friend of mine started a sports blog around the same time I started Take-Out Photo, so I proposed a friendly little game of google analytics Risk because we revel in pointless competition.

Let me digress....For example, we invented "King of Paris" a few years ago while on a research trip in Paris and here we are once again in Paris and still making up rules. To be king of Paris, you must know the best metro routes (including which car will stop closest to the exit you need) without looking at maps, you must never step in dog poop, stumble, or do anything un-French. Mess up and the title shifts to the other person. Since he lost the title two days ago on a bet involving chocolate (never make a bet with me involving chocolate), he was scheming over dinner about how a person might steal the title rather than waiting for the other to mess up. I said that if a French person asks you directions AND you can give them directions (without recourse to maps, of course) AND they never suspect you're not French, THEN you can steal the title. So we left the restaurant talking about food, of course (how a riz au lait, no matter how transcendent it may aspire to be, cannot overcome the fact that it is still just rice pudding), and suddenly a French woman came up to us asking where she could find rue de l'Exposition. Never before has a person received more enthusiastic directions--and in stereo. We even knew the restaurant she was going to. My friend is arguing with me even as I write that we gave her bad directions (which, if true, makes it all the more French, n'est-ce pas?). So my title remains intact. Had he thought to recommend the caramelized endive with apples and blue cheese as a starter, he would have the crown.

OK, so I am currently king of Paris, but it's not enough. I want to be KING OF THE WORLD! And wouldn't you--dear blog reader--love to help me in my quest for illusory and meaningless power?

So here is how google analytics risk works: Whoever has the most hits (from different individuals, so not 1,000 hits from your mother, Corry) claims a territory. If, at any time you have more hits from the other guy in every single country on earth, you win. It could happen.

Have a pen-pal in Moldova? Let her know about Take-Out Photo.
Like to chat with the people of Palau about the 2005 season of Survivor? Mention my blog in passing.
Oh, and I'm seven states short of USA domination.

Help a guy out. It's all the fun of world domination with none of the carnage.