For breakfast on Saturday, I conquered the glossy red candy apple I'd insisted on bringing back from the Fair the previous evening and it was a delicious mess. Free lipstick! I topped it off with a tasty cup of coffee from the hotel lobby (remarkable!) and the five of us were soon checked out and headed over to Fort Worth to visit the Meteorite Museum at TCU. I'd made a previous visit and was determined to share this little jewel of a museum with my pals since we were in the vicinity. We made a quick but thorough tour, and then I left my cohorts to return to Austin while I myself cut a wide berth around the Cotton Bowl and high-tailed it northeast toward Little Rock.
I wanted to reach Little Rock well before dark so I could tour two parks on the north side of the city that I'd read about. Both settings contain concrete sculptures by one Dionicio Rodriguez, a gentleman I'll call El Regio Rustico, because I love an alliteration.
Dionicio Rodriguez was born in 1891, in Talupa, a town not far from Mexico City. He came to the United States at the behest of a doctor in San Antonio that appreciated his artistry and seems to have had no trouble getting commissions for work all around the United States in the ensuring years. There are several sites in Arkansas that feature Dionicio's work and I had plotted out two in north Little Rock to go by and investigate.
Footbridge, Old Mill Park, Little Rock, Arkansas |
Dionicio's style is referred to as "faux bois" (say: foe-bwah) if you want to be all fancy and French or "rustico/trabajo rustico" (say: roo-stee-coe) if you want to get regional. One way or another, it's sloshing concrete on wire forms and making it end up looking like a real honest to goodness tree. Dionicio seems to have been the undisputed master of shaping and patterning cement like wood and apparently he protected his crown by working secretively out of the trunk of his car, hiding his ingredients and removing the labels so no one would know what he used.
Bench and railing, Old Mill Park, Little Rock, Arkansas |
As I roamed over the paths and stairways and bridges of the park, a loud rustle sounded from the leafy canopy overhead heralding the arrival of a cool front. Leaves of brown and gold rained down into the tawdry turquoise water of the ponds surrounding the Mill, making for a gorgeous palette with the ruddy orange of the iron rich dirt. I can only surmise that the caretakers had made an ill advised attempt to beautify the color of the water, and this unnatural hue was the result.
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A single brief flash of golden orange shown in the sky before the sun slipped below the horizon. As I walked back to my car, whorls of cool air wafted leaves and other debris past me, off into the encroaching dark of evening. I got back in my car just long enough to locate a nearby Motel 6 which conveniently featured an adjacent Waffle House. I was too beat to do anything fancy for dinner, and my waiter rewarded me with the crispiest set of hash browns I've ever eaten in a restaurant. Yes sir, I was living large in Little Rock!
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