UPDATES throughout the afternoon; recent posts on top.
6:45 PM This picture creeps me out. Then it doesn't. Then it does again.
Clouding over, alas; cooling off. Still worth the trip - but if you decided to pass on the day, wait for the inevitable video, posted here before the end of the day.
Hey - 11:59 PM is before the end of the day.
5:10 PM Crop Art, Part Two There’s a special exhibit dedicated to the Queen of Crop Art: Lillian Colton. She first entered her work in 1966, and went on to win “dozens of ribbons, including the Best of Show and the Sweepstakes Award.” Here’s her Buster Keaton:
And here’s Lillian.
She also did a portrait of Prince.
Lillian Colton died last March at the age of 95.
3:40 PM Crop Art, Part One It never gets respect. It's viewed as a rustic, amusing, naive "folk art," suitable only for an anthropology thesis. The Edible as Art: Recontextualizing the Seed as an Aesthetic Marker and the Reinforcement of the Dominant Class Ethos." Yeah, here's your tenure. You wouldn't see it in a museum - unless it was done ironically, as a comment on crop art.
Well, there's plenty here. This looks like the secular equivalent of an Orthodox Icon:
That owl scared me when I was a kid. He looked mean and angry about something. I was glad mom shopped at Super Valu. Stay away from the owl, mom!
Here's another local icon, done in beans:
Lest you think it's all commercial icons, there's politics as well.
"Seeds" of Destruction! Get it? And in this corner, shiny cheerful Al F.:
I think those are dyed beans. Apparently that's legal. Most of the political art leans left - probably not because the Crop Art Selection Committee is biased, but because A) the same woman does most of the political stuff, and B) she has mad skillz at seed placement. There's a grand opportunity for right-leaning seed art here, if anyone's interested. Create a stinging indictment of ethanol - using only corn! Extra points for built-in irony.
I actually have bystanders watching this post being constructed - and I will now provide the thrill of their day by posting right in front of them. About to hit submit! Here we go. See you in a while.
2:23 PM Sorry for the absence; I got caught in the parade. Always forget about the parade. If you're on the street when it begins, you can abandon all hope of getting up to the sidewalk - people are piled twenty deep, packed tight, waiting to see Princess Kay of the Milky Way float past, waving with regal grace. (You know what I love about the Fair? We don't sacrifice Princess Kay on the last night in a Grandstand Ceremony, with thousands of people chanting as she's lead up the stairs, maddened with blood lust, believing that this will assure the return of the Fair next year. That's just not who we are.) IAnyway,iff you're caught on the street, you might as well join the parade. Pick a vehicle, trot alongside, wave. Pretend you're Princess Kay's Swiss Guard, or something.
Ronald McDonald had his own car. He looks just like he does on TV!
I don't know what's more depressing - the possibility that some day there will be a McDonald's on the Fairgrounds, or the likelihood that people would be queued for a block the moment it opened.
Dining tip: the Hamline Church Diner. I can't vouch for the food, but it had two things some people need. It had a place to sit, and it had good coffee. There used to be many more church diners at the Fair, and each served up hot coffee in old-style church-basement cups. Not only does the Hamline Church Diner have the joe and the cups, but they give you the pot. The entire pot. Yours. You can sit and drink the entire thing and it's fine by them. There will be a full video report tonight on the place, so stay tuned. Next up: crop art. See you in a bit.
1:15 PM A constant stream of well-wishers: thanks, guys. One group passed along a dining suggestion: apple-flavored organic bratwurst. I can see that. If that sounds too healthy, you can ask for a cup of trans-fats for dippin'.
Fried Food Review #2: Spam Curds. Former Strib columnist Joe Kimball dropped by - he's blogging the Fair over at Minnesota Monitor - and asked if I dared. Verdict: they're melt-in-your-mouth-delicious. Two is enough. Three makes you want to bring up everything you've eaten since Christmas. They also come with dippin' sauce. Everything should come with dippin' sauce. Ideally, you should be able to buy a tub of dippin' sauce, plunge your handinto it and walk around licking your fist. Good eatin'!
I have noticed that the amount of Fair Hyperbole remains constant. The oldest taco stand announces that it's the "Home of the Original Soft Shell Taco," which is probably news to ancient Mayans; the Turkey stand across from the Turkey barn (a rather cruel arrangement, I always thought; you hope they distract the birds when they take them into the barn so they don't see the Turkey Sandwich stand. Look, over there, it's that famous turkey the president pardoned! You want his autograph? Oh wait a minute, that's not him. Never mind. Well, here we are!) still says "Best Darn Bird Anywhere," which puts those French poultry chefs on notice. But then there's the classic Fair standard, the "About A Foot Long Hot Dog" stand. I've always wondered why they feel compelled to couch the boast. It's possible the dog is half an inch shorter. It's possible it's a millimeter over. I don't care. It'll all average out over the course of a lifetime. No one goes to their grave with the nagging sense they were cheated by the cumulative impact of insufficiently long hot dogs. I ate 'em every year! I reckin they owe me 17 inches of hot dog! But not only have they cautioned us for years that the measurement may be imprecise, they've added a logo with a ruler. One end of the hot dog is shy of the inch mark; the other end goes over a little. It's About A Foot Long. Drives me nuts.
Off to explore; back in a while.
12:40 PM Ohhhh yes. This is the life. This is how it's done. Blue skies with a few scoops of tall white clouds; mild sun, temps in the seventies. A light breeze stirs the air, keeps the grease from congealing. No humdity. Usually I like humidity, but not here; humid fair air sticks to you like roofing tar, and you wish they had a Loofah Booth where you could be scrubbed clean. Not today! What more could anyone want?
Parking. The lot I used yesterday, the Snelling / 94 park-and-ride lot, was full. Well, let's go to plan B: Beg.
"I really have to get to the Fair," I told the attendant. "It's not for fun. I have to blog," I added. He gave me a look, glanced back at the porta-pottys - gotta blog, eh? Well, we've all been there - then asked if I didn't mind parking in mud.
"Mud is no problem," I said. The vehicle was still filthy from the day before.
"There's some muddy open spots in the back," he said, and he let me through. I thanked him, drove through the rutted lot, parked in a lake, and exited through the hatchback. You might try the same. Plan C, incidentally, was bribery, and I was glad I didn't have to try. I know they'd say no. I'd hope they say no.
This is the Fair, after all. We don't do that here.
More in a moment - have to get something to eat. I'm still working through the classics, so the next review will probably be the inordinately long hot dog. Stay tuned.
10:45 AM Actual live blogging on the luxurious porch begins around noonish - no, that's too vague. Exactly noonish. Stop by, if' you're in the neighborhood, and enjoy a free moist towellette.
Morning
Not starting 'til noon? The best time to be at the fair is in the early a.m. Give it a try.