New Orleans 2019

Walking around the old neighborhoods of New Orleans was like getting plugged into an electrical outlet. The city pulsates with art and inspiration. Everywhere you look there are painters on the sidewalks and parks. Mimes, live sculpture performers, psychics, tarot card readers, and fortune tellers. MUSIC, music of all kinds pours out from every door, crevice and open space. There’s live music and music from the stereo or someone’s sound system.

Symbolism runs deep and is plentiful, fleur de lis’ are EVERYWHERE and there’s a encyclopedias worth of stories behind its meaning. Crescents, New Orleans is known as the crescent city as it is shaped between the Mississippi River and Lake Pontchartrain, so there are a lot of moon symbols around. The colors Purple, Green and Gold also dominate the scenery. Purple stands for justice, green represents faith, and gold for power. Even the trusses of the Mississippi River bridge or Crescent connector have been used in local jewelry design.

I can’t believe that I was so overwhelmed I forgot to have any pictures taken of me in my outfits, that I made just for this trip! I will highlight some of the local artists that I supported in further posts.

(Photos from Pinterest: Gourmet Traveller and Tracy Emanuel from National Geographic. I saw some of these folks, I just forgot to take photos!)

Street musicians in Jackson Square

looking like 19th century, foggy, sooty London

Play their gypsy music

while the dog sleeps in a guitar case.

Ragged, black clothes.

Funky hats,

multiple tattoos.

Dark and dingy

against the background of colorfully painted

buildings and gas street lights.

I drop a dollar in the tin.

They love to

play their gypsy music

while the dog sleeps in a guitar case.

J G BRYANT

Sitting at the cafe

in my black sequined gown.

Eating beignets

and drinking Cafe Au Lait.

Getting white powdered sugar on my black lace gloves.

J G BRYANT

Palmettos spiking

out of the bayou

like Egyptian fans.

Wild pigs rooting

in the distant foliage.

Spanish moss draped over massive oaks

like exotic dancer’s scarves,

moving to the music: clicks and chirps

of shorebirds’ songs.

J G BRYANT

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