The Sistine Chapel of mixed-media DIY home repair. Etna
With apologies to Joni Mitchell,
I’ve looked at life with both sidings now Fake stone, fake brick, anyhow Clapboard slats and fish scale tile Colored vinyl—go on for miles
Call it what you like—brick collage bricolage or asphalt aspirations, vinyl verité or aluminum assemblage. We’re going the refer to the unique phenomena of homes improved in multiple phases with multiple different exterior building materials as mixed-media houses.
Slanted and enchanted. Mixed-media with ghost house. Lawrenceville
However it worked out, there are a lot of Pittsburgh homes—specifically row houses—that ended up with an upstairs/downstairs division in after-market siding. Sometimes, the twofer becomes a fourfer or fivefer when we go around the corner, under the porch, or up to the mansard roof.
The choice of material sometimes seems like a very conscious design decision—let’s do the first floor in blue stucco, she might say, yeah, and we’ll have white aluminum on the second floor, he joins in—but that doesn’t explain everything.
Bustin’ loose / drink the Kool-Aid. Elliott
Way too many of these examples seem like accidents of time, as if one set of homeowners made an initial decision and a subsequent owner came along and flipped the script twenty years later. Some just feel like people went with bargain lots on leftovers that couldn’t cover the entire house. We’ll likely never know why things ended up the way the did.
The photos—hopefully—speak for themselves and we don’t have enough puns on exterior cladding or Joni Mitchell in-jokes to warrant too much jibber-jabber. Enjoy.
Once, twice, nine times a lady. Lawrenceville
The grand buffet! Bloomfield
An even grander buffet! Allentown
Ain’t that America: brick, wood, steel, and glass. Mt. Washington
Rocks Bottoms mixer-upper. McKees Rocks
Triple layer cake. Bloomfield
Mid-renovation mixed-media. Bloomfield
Three stories for three storeys. Millvale
Bloofer-Twofer. Bloomfield
Business in the front … a different type of business around the side. West Homestead
Off off-white and stone below. Donora
Your porch, my wall. Neighbors sharing siding. Bloomfield
“That used to be a crack house,” the neighbor told me. Mixed-media fencing, Beltzhoover
Upstairs/downstairs. Polish Hill
The ghost in you. Mixed-media ghost house. Duryea, PA
Pretty sure that’s not a barber school, but now we have to question everything. A mystery sign in Kilbuck Township
So many questions! One chunk of wood nailed to another is attached to the outside of a residential garage. Next to the wood hangs a length of braided twine with a sharp nail at the end. The wood is painted with a cryptic message: Its for my bac but by a man’s hand.
Bac may or may not have been cut off—or misspelled. Is it for the back? What is it—the nail on the string? Does this serve a real purpose—that’s hard to imagine—or is it entirely symbolic? Assuming the latter, the message is lost on me. Maybe it’s a Biblical or cultural reference your heathen author just doesn’t get?
It’s the very definition of a mystery sign—a public notice set out for the world to consume but not entirely clear what the message is or who it’s meant for.
“Its for my bac… but by a man’s hand.” The Run
“No quid pro quo.” Duquesne
With some signs the mystery may not be that great but they’re still worth review and inclusion. We may assume the No quid pro quo sign [photo above]—photographed in Duquesne during some of the former guy’s obvious quid pro quo activity—is the work of one of the ex-president’s supporters expressing an opinion … but it still looks way goofy absent any other context.
Anyone who travels Babcock Blvd. in the summer knows the corn guys by Hastings Hardware, but still, seeing a lone day-glow CORN SOON sign [below] just feels like a cruel taunt. Found glasses [below] suggests someone did exactly that … but not any way to return the lost item to its rightful owner.
But when will there be corn NOW? “CORN SOON.” North Hills
“Found glasses.” Lawrenceville
I don’t know—you tell me! “Who is John Galt?” Stanton Heights
Others aren’t so obvious. Who is John Galt? [above] has an easily Googleable explanation, but it doesn’t explain why a Stanton Heights homeowner feels the need to decorate their front yard with this message.
A chain link fence in a Bloomfield alley hosts an odd specimen. No violins, the sign declares, along with a fine folksy painting of the instrument, no crying, no crying [below]. We like to think violins are purely metaphor here—that crying is the only real objection—but where’s that coming from? Not a creature was stirring when the picture was snapped, but perhaps it rains with teardrops of a thousand tortured toddlers at other times of day.
Cellos only. “No violins. No crying. No crying.” Bloomfield
You don’t want me guessing why. “See you Tuesday Guess ? Why.” Millvale
Every one of these gems has a story and it’s likely we won’t find out the explanations to any of them—and that’s OK. With the number of messages we humans push out to the world every single day, I’ll take mystery over hate, exploitation, cruelty, or narcissism any time. Wondering ain’t such a bad thing. Plus, like the sign says, … And that’s life… right?
Perhaps the most Pittsburgh sign ever. “Street continues around corner.” Troy Hill
“Slow kid playin.” Millvale
Runes, Oakland
“CJ’s Spot.” Hill District
Sure they did. “Someone else removed the stop work order.” Spring Garden
“Psalm 91 over this neighborhood.” North Side
Vampires, you’re on your own. “Please do turn around here.” The Run
“Closed until Tuesday for court stuff.” Millvale
If only every restaurant was as up front about their chili status. “We are completely out of chili … sorry.” Frankie’s, Lawrenceville
“Not for consumption. Only for religion purpose.” Scranton
You don’t know Jack. “JACK.” Lawrenceville
Cat, just a cat. Spring Garden
“ACES.” Vandergrift
“NO OUT LET.” Millvale
A mystery [blank/sunbleached] sign among mystery signs! Lawrenceville
“Sun Ra / Alice Coltrane. I miss my friends …” Millvale
What was here before the middle went missing? Polish Hill/Strip District
If there is a best flag to represent America in 2022, it may well be this one. Fifteen or twenty feet tall, the big metal version of the stars & bars fills a huge section of exterior wall on the Dura-Bond Pipe facility in McKeesport.
The image is all there, but it’s seen better days. The blue field behind the flag’s fifty stars is faded and streaked; red stripes are all but gone entirely. In their void, scratchy, rusty striations seem to be eating Old Glory from the inside out.
Rust, white, and blue. Warehouse flag, Dura-Bond Pipe, McKeesport
If that’s not a perfect analog for the current state of our American union, I don’t know what is. America is still here, we see its shape and form, still recognize its power and pretense, but it seems to be disappearing—or is actively being destroyed—right in front of our eyes, in ways we never imagined.
We’ll not do any great opining here—you’ve got blow-out mattress sales and sun-soaked cookouts to get to. Maybe, though, in between all those hot dogs and foul balls, consider what you can actively do—and not just on the Internet—to preserve American democracy between now and next Independence Day.
Enjoy the flags (and flag-like things). Happy Independence Day, y’all!
Flag steps, Hazelwood
This is YOUR FLAG. VFW, Tyrone, PA
Flag building. Kaps & Taps, Duryea, PA
The flag’s not dead! Flag grave, Richand Cemetery, Dravosburg
No stars/blank slate. Hancock, MD
The land of the free and the home of the gnomes. Flag gnomes, Highland Park
Free bird(s)! Flag bird house, Polish Hill
The jokes write themselves. Shred America, the “Paper Shredding Patriots,” Strip District
Barbed wire stars. Porch flag, Perry Hilltop
American eagle. Ambridge
Uncle Sam with bird, butterfly, and electric meter. Glassport
Porch flag, Stanton Heights
Ain’t that America. Beer can flag, trampled underfoot, South Side
If that ain’t enough flags for you, our sister blog The Portland Orbit has their own flag post out today. Let’s go, America!