God of the Jawas

The importance of leaving rusting idols in the Tatooine desert appears threefold: One, to alert other wandering tribes of Jawas that this indeed is a good travel route, as pioneered by a particular tribe (indicated by the style of the idol, and inscriptions); Two, to designate an area of resources; and Three, to indicate a territorial boundary. Boundaries are shared and very flexible by default; a tribe wandering into another tribe's idol-dotted area is under no threat: Jawas always share all resources with their own kind, sometimes to a fault. The 'boundary' is more a designation of the hostmanship is as you travel through this particular land. Further, each "idol station" is a sort of folk worship altar, where each passing Jawa tribe will stop, place offerings, and potentially rest a few days. As has been noted earlier by Brunson (1997), Carpith (2024) and Xenuduin (2319), these idol stations are found in locations with useful desert resources: water, shade, low wind, physical protection, high magnetic potential, and quality food opportunities. These idols eventually do rust and abrade away in the contant winds, often leaving a stain in the ground or wall nearby. Skilled Jawas can interpret theses stains and deterime the tribe which erected the previous idol. If left untended for a long enough period of time, another Jawa tribe may claim the area and assume host responsibilities. Usually this happens after the initial tribe has been contacted to confirm their disinterest in the location, but occasionally the initial tribe cannot be located and does not come back to maintain the spot.

Water Bells

Reversed-cloche water spout design. A definite improvement on the alternative 'chain' type downspout, these look like they would actually be musical in a downpour. Houses are not normally a part of 'street art'... but I think these are an exception since they are so unique. The house is on 16th, just north of Madison a few blocks. Looks like a nice place.

Hammering Man in Human Bondage

All tied up and no place to go. The Hammering Man (Jonathan Borofsky, 1992, #3277164.) was stopped and restrained this last fall as part of the Seattle Art Museum's huge construction process. If you haven't been downtown, the SAM is sporting a fancy, skyscraping new appendage off its Northside: The new WaMu Tower. Fortunately for SAM, this will increase the museum's floorspace. Meanwhile, the iconic, ever-hammering Man was stopped while fences surrounded his feet (and the rest of the building) and the construction pushed on.
He really deserves the rest: "The Hammering Man's arm "hammers" four times per minute from 7 am to 10 pm every day. He rests its arm each evening and every year on Labor Day." One day off a year? 15-hour days? He's a throwback to the American capitalism of the late 1800's, or the Asian capitalism of today. A time we'd be best off only remembering. (Of course with increasing overtime and lousy vacation compensation, Americans may be slowly moving back there anyway.)
At last visit a week ago, he'd actually been disassembled in part -- dis-armed, actually -- with no date posted as to when he'll be back on the line, banging away. Probably soon though, since the skyscraper thing (described as 'flute-like' by The Stranger's art critic Jen Graves) is finished and partially occupied already.

Cookery Fence

It's a memory wall of sorts, which grows yearly with cake tins, copper ornaments and cooking implements extracted from thrift stores. Chaotic yet peaceful, it makes a Sunday walk that much more delightful.

Le Chien d'Acier

This cocker was sitting atop the action end of a metal cyclone fence somewhere on 15th Ave in the Central District. Lovingly detailed, yet worn from at least a decade or two of use, he looks back somewhat mournfully at the house he guards. Perhaps wishing he could be inside the warmth, and not out here on the cold, cold sidewalk.

It's small flourishes like this that make places interesting, although why the owners chose to immortalize a cocker spaniel in cyclone steel is unclear. A dear departed most likely. Nothing else about the house was particularly noteworthy, but it needn't have been: this little protector says it all.