Here I was this morning, thinking about dropping this whole thing. (See previous post.)
And then, hours later, in the West End, not even looking for old signs, I find this gem, and a couple of previously undiscovered others. Gonna take it as a sign to keep posting.
Why do this in the first place? Besides the fact that it gives me something to do besides drink myself to death? I like it. I like these signs. It is art, even if it was never meant to be. Look at the layers on this particular entry: carpets, ice cream, household goods, bakery? I just think it's beautiful.
And I love the historical aspect too: What was this (or any) neighborhood like when these signs were painted? For instance, this one, along the 8th Street Viaduct in Queengate. Right now, it's next to a viaduct, surrounded by brownfields, train tracks, and the Cincinnati Police Academy. But, at one time, things must have been quite different. Or like today's entry, on Freeman, near Dayton; not much seems to happen here now, but at one point, Freeman must have been a bustling thoroughfare.
Beyond that, this blog doesn't get a lot of attention, and that's okay. I'm not doing it for fame, or money, (obviously). I'm doing it because I like it. Finding faded signs brings me a small measure of joy.