View allAll Photos Tagged trapper
Dainty little diecast of the motorists sworn enemy ;-p
The Matchbox Speed Trapper is a rather unusual choice of machine to model but for children is probably a source of fun and novelty. Rather low tech with its swivelling plastic speed recorder but is nicely detailed at the rear and rides on chrome disc wheels. Part of the very latest Case D. Mint and boxed.
The statues were built by an aged visionary named John Ehn. Proud of his pioneer ancestry, he called himself "The Old Trapper" and spent the last thirty years of his life crafting his masterworks, using his family and himself as models, a classic victim of dementia concretia. He displayed the finished sculptures at his motel near Burbank Airport, which he named The Old Trapper's Lodge.
Ehn was 84 when he died in 1981. His creations were declared a California state cultural landmark four years later. Culture, however, rarely stops progress in Southern California. Bulldozers arrived to level The Old Trappers Lodge in the late 1980s. The statues were imperiled. And here's where the story gets murky.
Pioneer Family Stands Bravely.
The Trapper's Family stands bravely.
Apparently, an unknown fan of The Old Trapper made a phone call to nearby Pierce College. Somehow, he or she persuaded a decision-maker at the school to "adopt" the statues. Before anyone else knew what had happened, the Trapper's Lodge statues had a new home in Cleveland Park -- an out-of-the-way patch of land behind the Animal Sciences Building. What was said to seal the deal, and what was the fallout for the decision-maker, no one will say.
An even greater mystery surrounds the continued upkeep of the Old Trapper's creations. According to a Pierce official, "Every few years we get a letter saying that someone's coming down to repaint the statues." The folks at Pierce never bother to ask who; all they care about is that someone else pays the bill. "Last time the statues got painted, the trail around the Park needed work as well." The college couldn't afford it -- so the mysterious caretakers did it themselves. "Did a good job, too."
The brightly-colored figures are arranged near a large barbeque grill. A Mormon does battle with one Indian, while another carries away a scantily clad woman in a scene titled "Kidnap." Bizarre faces poke up from the ground. A Miner and two Gold Rush gals relax on a rough wooden bench.
Mesmerizing stare.
John Ehn would be pleased that his statues have been kept so well, though he'd be frustrated that no one comes to admire the maintenance. Most Pierce staffers don't even know that they exist. Pierce is a commuter school, so its students are even more oblivious -- the statues are ignored, and have never been draped with toilet paper or disrespectfully dressed in holiday-theme outerwear. Perhaps the young people instinctively sense the Dark Force that surrounds these scary totems, and give them a wide berth.
After The Old Trapper's Lodge statues took up residence at Pierce, the college had fallen on hard financial times. Like a parasite draining its host, John Ehn's work remained fresh-as-a-daisy while the college slowly wasted away. (As of 2008 apparently those problems have passed, and the college just completed an expansion.)
Perhaps, in the not-too-distant future, Pierce College will again falter and close its gates for good. If that happens, the Old Trapper's Lodge statues will no doubt stay as they are, forever young, lovingly maintained amid the ruin that surrounds them, by persons unknown, for reasons unknown, in complete isolation.
Kent Monkman, born in Saint Marys, Ontario, in 1965
2006
Acrylic on canvas, wood frame
In the nineteenth century, the predominant view that the First Peoples of North America were doomed for extinction was a favorite theme employed by romantic artists such as Paul Kane, George Catlin, Albert Bierstadt, and Edward Curtis. These artists has little regard for the 'civilized' Aboriginals, such as the Cherokees and other tribes living in or around eastern settlements, whose cultures and blood had, by this time, intermingled with that of the Europeans. The adoption of new modes of dress and customs was at odds with the perceived authenticity of the doomed race, and was scrupulously avoided in their paintings and photographs.
The artist's quest to preserve images of the 'noble savage' in his unspoiled state served to diminish society's understanding, both then and now, of the complexity of First Nations cultures in flux. To the Romantic, if Aboriginals didn't appear in everyday life, as portrayed in Catlin's paintings and Curtis's photographs (in buckskins and feathers), they were well on their way to extinction. Banished to the dustbin of art history, and the ethnology wing of the museum, the first Nations are forever trapped in these paintings and photographs as "monuments of a noble race" (Catlin). But many nations of us are still here – saddled with the challenge of our authenticity being measured against this romantic ideal.
These paintings worked effectively as propaganda that disseminated the theory of the vanishing race: this notion was convincing to the Euro-North American audience, and helped facilitate the seizure of lands and expansion of western settlements. The forcible and repeated displacement of Aboriginal peoples from their lands "was a singularly brutal and dramatic moment in the history of the United States, yet no hint of it ever appeared on canvas." How many other Aboriginal narratives are missing from the authoritative canon of art history?
In Trappers of Men, a reclaimed Bierstadt landscape is the backdrop of a tableau that weaves together a criss-crossing narrative of art, histories and mythologies. The players feature several artists, trappers, mountain men, fur traders and explorers who are captured in a moment of epiphany. Notable characters include from left to right, Edward Curtis and models, Miss Chief Eagle Testickle, Piet Mondrian, Jackson Pollock, George Catlin, Lone Dog and his winter count (buffalo hide), Bruce Bailey Esq., Whistlejacket, Lewis and Clark, and Alexander Mackenzie.
Ken Monkman
August 14, 2006
The Boykin Spaniel is a medium-sized breed of dog, a Spaniel bred for hunting wild turkeys and ducks in the Wateree River Swamp of South Carolina, in the United States. It is the state dog of South Carolina, where it was discovered and further developed by hunters in the 1900s.
The Boykin Spaniel is a versatile hunter, working as a retriever and upland hunter, flushing birds into flight. Pointing is not in character with the Boykin's hunting style. Their stamina in hot weather and eagerness make them good for dove hunts, but also for pheasant and other upland game. They can be used in driving deer or in tracking wounded game. Their small size makes them easy to carry in a canoe or other small boat, and they are described as "the dog that doesn't rock the boat." The Boykin was officially recognized by the AKC in 2009.
One of my frequent jaunts when the photography addiction kicks in is a 25 mile ride over Trappers Loop, that serves as the access road to Snowbasin resort. The views are phenominal. This is an Aspen grove that's probably 4 miles away.
The statues were built by an aged visionary named John Ehn. Proud of his pioneer ancestry, he called himself "The Old Trapper" and spent the last thirty years of his life crafting his masterworks, using his family and himself as models, a classic victim of dementia concretia. He displayed the finished sculptures at his motel near Burbank Airport, which he named The Old Trapper's Lodge.
Ehn was 84 when he died in 1981. His creations were declared a California state cultural landmark four years later. Culture, however, rarely stops progress in Southern California. Bulldozers arrived to level The Old Trappers Lodge in the late 1980s. The statues were imperiled. And here's where the story gets murky.
Pioneer Family Stands Bravely.
The Trapper's Family stands bravely.
Apparently, an unknown fan of The Old Trapper made a phone call to nearby Pierce College. Somehow, he or she persuaded a decision-maker at the school to "adopt" the statues. Before anyone else knew what had happened, the Trapper's Lodge statues had a new home in Cleveland Park -- an out-of-the-way patch of land behind the Animal Sciences Building. What was said to seal the deal, and what was the fallout for the decision-maker, no one will say.
An even greater mystery surrounds the continued upkeep of the Old Trapper's creations. According to a Pierce official, "Every few years we get a letter saying that someone's coming down to repaint the statues." The folks at Pierce never bother to ask who; all they care about is that someone else pays the bill. "Last time the statues got painted, the trail around the Park needed work as well." The college couldn't afford it -- so the mysterious caretakers did it themselves. "Did a good job, too."
The brightly-colored figures are arranged near a large barbeque grill. A Mormon does battle with one Indian, while another carries away a scantily clad woman in a scene titled "Kidnap." Bizarre faces poke up from the ground. A Miner and two Gold Rush gals relax on a rough wooden bench.
Mesmerizing stare.
John Ehn would be pleased that his statues have been kept so well, though he'd be frustrated that no one comes to admire the maintenance. Most Pierce staffers don't even know that they exist. Pierce is a commuter school, so its students are even more oblivious -- the statues are ignored, and have never been draped with toilet paper or disrespectfully dressed in holiday-theme outerwear. Perhaps the young people instinctively sense the Dark Force that surrounds these scary totems, and give them a wide berth.
After The Old Trapper's Lodge statues took up residence at Pierce, the college had fallen on hard financial times. Like a parasite draining its host, John Ehn's work remained fresh-as-a-daisy while the college slowly wasted away. (As of 2008 apparently those problems have passed, and the college just completed an expansion.)
Perhaps, in the not-too-distant future, Pierce College will again falter and close its gates for good. If that happens, the Old Trapper's Lodge statues will no doubt stay as they are, forever young, lovingly maintained amid the ruin that surrounds them, by persons unknown, for reasons unknown, in complete isolation.
Young Master Trapper, all of 6 years, was the youngest camper in the first of the two 5-week sessions at Camp Sea Gull.
He had never been away from home. Every day for the first two weeks of camp, after lunch, Trapper would race out of the dining hall & return to our cabin to his bed (the bottom bunk in the far corner of the cabin), bury his face in his pillow, & silently cry himself to sleep during the midday nap period.
As one of the Jeep Guys at Camp Sea Gull, I was asked to lend a hand to Trapper, to help him find a way through his homesickness & misery. So one day as we prepared to depart on one of our insane Jeep excursions, I pulled Trapper to my side & lifted him into the front seat of the Scout, next to me.
He refused to look at me or anyone else. He simply stared ahead or looked down at his feet (dangling above the floor, he was so tiny). This went on for a few more Jeep excursions until one evening when we made a rare night trip in the Scouts to visit the nearby "haunted" house. Captain Wyatt Taylor told his classic haunted-house story & camp counselors, who had arrived early & hidden themselves inside the "haunted" house, on cue flashed lights, crashed trash-can lids together, & wailed & screamed in mock terror.
As you can imagine, the children, ranging from ages 6-16 years, screamed in loud chorus & frantically retreated in terror back to the Jeeps & the trailers. All except Young Master Trapper, that is.
Trapper, frozen in terror, had fallen down next to a nearby bush & in the frenzy of about 120 children racing back to the Jeeps, found himself momentarily alone, left behind.
As I walked quickly to the Jeep, I scanned the jeep & the trailer, counting & calling out names to verify that all children were accounted for & present. Quickly enough I discovered that Trapper was missing. It was very dark by now & I called out Trapper's name over & over again untill I heard faint sobbing & muffled but "small" wails of grief in the distance, near the "haunted" house.
With flashlight in hand, I moved toward the sobbing & came upon Trapper, who was lying under the edge of the bush, on his stomach, with his face buried in his arms. I reached down to pick him up & took him in my arms & pulled him closely against my chest.
We walked slowly back to the Jeep as many of the children called out to Trapper. I put him in the front seat next to me, as was custom by now, but instead of his moving all the way over to the far side by the door, he slid closely next to me and pressed himself against my side, looping his head underneath my arm. And so we made our way back to camp.
The next day after lunch, Trapper, instead of racing back to the cabin, took my hand as we walked out of the dining hall. We walked slowly back to the cabin without speaking & I picked him up & drew him close to me before lowering him into his bottom bunk. He suddenly turned his face toward mine & kissed me on my left cheek.
From that day forward, Trapper never again cried himself to sleep & was one of the happiest & most outgoing campers of Camp Sea Gull. He did not like my taking pictures of him & that is why I asked the girls of Camp Seafarer to "trap" Trapper for this picture.
I think about Trapper every now & then. If he is alive, he is a mature man by now, likely with children of his own. I imagine him sending his son and/or daughter off to camp, perhaps to Camp Sea Gull or Seafarer. And I imagine him telling his son and/or daughter about his own experience & how he lived through it to tell them what he learned that summer: And this too shall pass away.
Lots of love to Young Master Trapper.
Wasn't till I cropped the image that I saw this little spider - a Stealth Trapper. And if you look closely, you may see his web.
Taken with Nikon FE2 converted to M42 and Carl Zeiss Jena Flektogon 20mm f2.8 MC on Fuji Sensia 100.
©Adrienne Fox-Keesic 2003
This is a community Elder from Pikangikum Ojibway Nation - a remote aboriginal community located in northernwestern Ontario. I took the photo as part of a news story assignment. The community was celebrating a major court decision that ruled in its favor.
The doorway is about four feet tall so it's a bit of a tight fir in here. Better than nothing though, and I'm sure it served the trapper that built it fine.
Persistent URL: floridamemory.com/items/show/270842
Local call number: TD01801
Title: Trapper listening to a rattlesnake in Tallahassee
Date: March 24, 1965
Physical descrip: 1 photonegative - b&w - 35 mm.
Series Title: Tallahassee Democrat Collection
Repository: State Library and Archives of Florida
500 S. Bronough St., Tallahassee, FL, 32399-0250 USA, Contact: 850.245.6700, Archives@dos.myflorida.com
Panoramic views from Trapper's Peak, via Thornton Lakes trial.
Photo Credit: NPS/Michael Silverman
8-28-2010
Panoramic views from Trapper's Peak, via Thornton Lakes trial.
Photo Credit: NPS/Michael Silverman
8-28-2010