
Mr. O’Neill is possibly the only resident of the Allegheny Cemetery who is still working at a desk job post mortem. Eugene O’Neill is buried nearby, but not any Eugene O’Neill you know.
Mr. O’Neill is possibly the only resident of the Allegheny Cemetery who is still working at a desk job post mortem. Eugene O’Neill is buried nearby, but not any Eugene O’Neill you know.
The elaborate entrance portal to Highland Park at the end of Highland Avenue could never be made today. Think of the protests! It would be called a waste of money, an exploitation of women, or even obscene. In Victorian times, it was probably called “beautiful,” but that is an outmoded form of discourse.
A headless statue accumulated from somewhere, now standing up to its neck in Boston ivy outside the Mattress Factory art museum.
More of Dale Chihuly‘s glass whimsies at Phipps Conservatory. In the Tropical Forest, a few of the sculptures are filled with neon or argon and lit up like some sort of crazy radioactive dodder.
Glassmaker Dale Chihuly has filled Phipps Conservatory with whimsical creations that look like mad experiments in botany. Chihuly may be the only installation artist working today who consistently manages the extraordinary feat of appealing equally to three-year-old children and old grumps.
The Dollar Bank has never been the biggest or richest bank in the city, but the lions that flank the entrance certainly inspire confidence.