I was up early at 5 a.m. I stood, barefoot, just outside the doorframe to the house where I was staying, deep in the West Virginia hills. No traffic noise since this was the heart of the heart of the country. Only a rural road curved around the house ...
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He was a West Virginia coal miner’s son who lost his legs below the knees in a deadly ambush in Vietnam at age 18. What happened next sounds like a movie script. Dave Evans went on to work across the planet, building and fitting prosthetic legs, hands, and arm for thousands of adults and children in conflict zones worldwide. A…
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While "VAN GOGH: The Immersive Experience" wows you with its flash, such as a 7,000-square-foot Immersive Gallery animating his work and a must-experience virtual reality fly-through of Arles, I came away just as intrigued and moved by the more intimate details.
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I came upon one of my mother’s old rosaries in my collection of family stuff, and paired it on a tack beside my writing desk wall with some old religious medallions I earned on some long-ago Holy Day. Catholicism didn't take, but the accoutrements remain.
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I claim no grand comprehension of the challenge of life there. But Cuba is … well, Cuba. A confounding, transformative, depressing, challenging, intoxicating place.
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After weeks upon weeks of miserableness, suffering though the worst bout of sickness in his adult life — aka Influenza A — your videographic interlocutor finally has (mostly) passed out of the Valley of Miserableness. This is what he saw looking up once sprung from his sick house.
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What can I say? I make weird, short videos. This one goes out to the 7 to 17 people with an odd enough sensibility to appreciate this brief, thumping encounter with the sculpture 'Earth Portal' in Ritter Park, in Huntington W.Va., which if you didn't know it, is playable.
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Much of my life and existence, my world view and how I spend my time, plus how I orient myself in the space-time continuum of ongoing mystery and confounding confusion, is summed up in this photograph.
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That feeling you get after the days turn into weeks and then into decades, and you look in the mirror one morning ...
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The email arrived one day recently in my in-box from Glasgow, Scotland: Did you know, it said, that a letter your friend Sister Mary Pellicane sent to Charles de Gaulle is on sale on eBay in London? Um ... no. What?
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The hand-transcribed song lyric considered as a work of art. Bouncing around Paris and the volcanic heartland of Gaul before easy access to printers and scanners, you had to make do when you wanted to travel with lyrics to the songs you hoped to sing.
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'What It Feels Like, Some Days, Inside My Head,' courtesy of The Leaning Barn of Wayne County, West Virginia, located out near Porter's Fork Road.
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What can I say? Sometimes, you just have to write a haiku about the Dollar Store. They should sell it there. For a dollar.
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Dots of satellites, / slow-moving stars / high high overhead, / always circling the / marble of the earth, / pass by well past / midnight, far above / the push-up Appalachians ...
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It was a misted night in West Virginia as 2022, exhausted and limp, handed over the new year to 2023. Here is how Deck Buddha marked that moment.
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