Seventh day of the seventh month

I love old architectural embellishments, especially the baroque and heraldic material. One of the interesting things to do in a big city is to look for the outrageous architectural element that has been neglected or forgotten, like this poor griffin here. A regal figure confined to a life of graffiti and bird shit, not to mention the thick and somewhat corrosive Los Angeles air.

Proud lion bird deserved better.

The truth is that a lot of amazing work like this is starting to die out there, the victim of neglect or the wrecking ball. A law of physics I recently learned, entropy only increases. Trying to resist decay is a herculean effort.

I can visualize a special night, the seventh day of the seventh month, year of the blood red hunter's moon, when at the appointed hour the ancient spell is cast once more and in the dead quiet of night, the noble clay figures suddenly animate in the magic air and briefly meet to talk about their past deeds and maybe to laugh or weep. Even a wyvern, calopus or amphitere likes to rehash their past exploits every once in a while...

There is a sound, perhaps a carriage approaches or is it the flight of a bird? On cue, the creatures slip back into their too familiar solid beds of plaster and clay, motionless once again they are sentenced to the dreary tomb of eternal sleep. 

Amazing to think of the work and craftsmanship to produce this level of artistry, a craft and guild that is sadly now extinguished. Look closely at these faces, they share the sorrow.

If you see a beautiful stone figure in some city that perhaps looks lonely and forgotten, give it some love. From me.