There, once wind pushed the clouds off to the east, taking with it the sticky humidity and afternoon thunderstorms, in the translucent blue sky it shimmered, shimmered like a delicate hollow diamond filled only by the aspirations and whims of the many. Many people through the eons called it many things and ascribed reason and history to explain why it hung there. Today, we call it Friday Props.
Welcome back! After adventures of fruits, flavors, sights and smells in West Virginia, I came back to find Vermont much the way I’d left it: swamped by daily deluges that washed away several roads and sets of patio furniture. The sun shines brightly now but all the rain brought me to wonder what wonderful things people do with excess rainfall. The best idea I found was something we’ve already covered here so, teary eyed, I struck out again for more props.
As often happens, I don’t think I find props as much as they find me. Elusive little buggers. A while back, I did a little piece on the largest musical instrument in the world, a pipe organ in Atlantic City. While impressive for its size and such, I think that this touring installation by David Byrne of The Talking Heads is marvelous. As Byrne puts it:
“Playing the Building is a sound installation in which the infrastructure, the physical plant of the building, is converted into a giant musical instrument.”
As you’ll find, the ‘music’ produced by the instrument is….ummm…different. Still, the concept is what makes Playing the Building Props-worthy.
Second props go to a collective group of people; a group of people who can make or break a hot day at home in the summer. They can be your savior or your worst neighborhood nightmare, circling your block for hours playing “It’s a Small World After All” over and over….and over…and over. I know a fella who told me the story of how, trapped in his apartment overwhelmed by sickness his block for three days, finally cracked and chased the local ice cream truck away with an axe. He felt much better after that. But our second Friday Props go to those ice cream truck drivers who, like bus drivers in Central America, personalize and pimp out their vehicles. You put a double dip smile on my face.