This large tin horse stands in the weeds at the side of Colorado Avenue, just north of Old Colorado City. He's mounted on some kind of mechanism as though he was once a bucking bronco in a bar, or a kids' ride at a fair. And he was here five years ago (curiously, I'd remembered him as a much smaller tin horse, despite having taken photographs of him then, too), just down the road from where Alice's great uncle once used to live, in a house which is now covered with rusty Mexican tchotchkes and talavera plates and earthenware suns and large pots and a suit of armor and metalwork cacti and rusting tin armadillos. Everything - including the house itself - is for sale.
Only now the horse looks even more sad and desolate, and someone has stuck these Blind Side stickers on his nose. I would love to be able to buy him and cart him off in a U-haul truck, but this really would be a decidedly impractical adoption scheme, even if I think he'd look rather good under the orange tree in LA.
I'm very much looking forward to going to the exhibition of photographs of sculpture at MOMA - reviewed in today's NYT - it seems to be absolutely my kind of thing - lots and lots of slightly quirky images of the inanimate looking almost alive - like the horse, galloping through blue flowers.