Meet Our Members ~ American Artist Ralph Duncan

Ralph Duncan

Ralph Duncan is an artist in a variety of mediums. He resides in the Pacific Northwest. Please click HERE to learn more about the artist, his artwork, and to read his prior blog posts.

A Most Ancient Skill – Not what you think (Acanthus Part 2) By Ralph Duncan

In our previous discussion of the Acanthus, we explored the origin of the use of the leaf in carvings and ornaments and its cultural adaptations and interpretations. We noted that the different characterizations of the acanthus were largely a result of variances in culture. However, it could also be argued that the tools available at any given time in history played as large, or even larger role in how the Acanthus was interpreted. 

While the precise timeline of carving tools is somewhat a mystery, we can see at least a preference in tools by the carving itself. When speaking specifically of ancient wood carvings (around 400-500 bc) we see mostly flat surfaces and flat-edged carvings. The picture below is a copy of one I produced in my shop. Visible are the surfaces of the leaves all at one level and are rendered by incising flat planes with knives only. 

The knives I have in my shop, are fundamentally the same tools that have been used for centuries to produce very elaborate carvings. 

While we do not know when curved and rounded carving gouges appeared on the stage, we do see very delicate carvings appearing around the 14th century. In many cases, these carvings still exist and are regarded as some of the most beautiful and sophisticated carvings in history. It is clear that the production of these carvings included the addition of tools other than straight knives.  

Tools began to be manufactured, by family-run companies that are still in existence today. Companies have designed and produced hundreds of variants on the carving gouge. Some of the same tools that my ancestors used are still in existence today. Many examples I have in my shop.

While these tools did gain popularity, the master carver did not give up his knife. We see many carvings appearing that showed both signs of marks created by knives as well as curved gouges. Look at the “curly” carved pattern in this picture. Several cuts were likely made with the knife, while still others have curved and beveled surfaces that could only be made successfully with a gouge. 

As we look back at one of our acanthus examples, the impact of the development of sophisticated shapes and curved tools foster carvings with sweeping curves and delicate forms. 

The pursuit of wood carving is an endeavor from which there is no graduation. It is a constant and humbling challenge to produce, or reproduce, a quality piece in the same manner as the expert craftsmen of centuries gone by.

Visit Ralph's page to read his past posts. 

There you can also view some of his artwork.

Repoussoira-Push Back. Why is the Sky Blue? By Ralph Duncan

Whether I am doing a drawing, painting or a carving I use my work to communicate to the viewer a thought – a story – or a feeling.  Very much like a writer. This is the ultimate goal. But, how does that happen? Is it just about picking the right subject matter? Or the perfect composition? Of course, these are important for developing a piece of art that speaks to a viewer. However, there are other techniques that are used that are often not specifically noticed by the viewer but are key in telling the story.

I get hints that the story and the techniques are at play from comments like, “the subject seems to 'pop out' from the background." When that happens, then I feel like I am on the right track and have connected with the viewer. But, this does not happen by accident. The techniques I employ can be lumped into a French term: Repoussoira–loosely translated, “to push back.”  

Look at this in process drawing of this Mountain Dog. The effect is

clearly illustrated. There is no question that the mountains are far back in the distance behind this magnificent dog. The drawing just would not look right if the mountains were rendered in the same detail as the subject. The eye would be confused. And here is the communication part. When the eye is confused, so is the message. But, the really interesting part here is that absolute accuracy is not necessary, because even though our brain will pick out the contradictions, as long as you follow certain rules, the eye and the human brain will fill in the gaps.

Most of us know the basic rules:

• Large figures in front (geometric perspective)

• Less detail in back

• Overlap objects

Look at this drawing of the boat on the ocean. A simple piece, but it is the size of the boat, lack of detail in the waves that send the message that the boat is far from our place of viewing. The dark shadow of the boat on the water, the silhouette of the boat itself, gives us clear indication that the light is coming from the sun on the horizon behind the boat.

Now, look at the drawing of the leaf. There is a lot going on here. You can see the dark shadows in the front of the leaf-where is touches the table – where portions of the leaf are starting to roll over another part casting shadows. You are starting to pick up cues that this leaf is probably an old leaf curling up on itself, and perhaps cupping upward.

You are starting to get an idea where the light is coming from by the light/dark contrasts. You now are realizing that parts of the leaf are behind others - that some of the tips in the back are in fact rolling back into the paper away from your view. And you can also get a sense that the leaf is not entirely smooth on its surface – from the spotty light and dark areas. All of these effects are purposefully done to give to you the viewer some sense of the feel and presence of this leaf.

If I were doing a relief carving (I will discuss in a later post) of this leaf from this drawing, the lights and darks would tell me which parts of the leaf would stick out and which parts would be pushed back into the picture (Repussoira).

Look at the old wooden boat. It is because of the use of light and darks you know that this must be an old, well-used boat. You can see the rust from the old nails running down the hull. You might imagine she (boats are she, btw-sorry) is coming in from a long day of fishing as the sun sets behind her. You can see how the light plays on the mast and the shadow on the front of the pilothouse is in shadow. And you can barely see the shoreline in the background.

As an artist develops a piece of work, he or she knows that the objects in the back have less contrast, they are dimmer and their borders become blurred (il mezzo confuso). But, we may not know why. And here is the most interesting part of all—where, I postulate, the border between science and art also becomes blurred. 

What we see and experience is the result of a trick our atmosphere plays on us. Something known as “Rayleigh Scattering" - named after the 18th-century physicist Lord Rayleigh (go figure). The great Leonardo DaVinci (artist or scientist?) knew all about this and referred to it as an aerial perspective. Objects in the distance are lighter, less defined, more tightly clustered. Contrast is reduced in the background. And the more atmosphere between the viewer and the object, the more pronounced the effect. Well, it all has to do with those little tiny particles of stuff (smog, dirt, water, etc.) carried in the air and their size in relation to what is know a wavelength of light.

This is why contours are softened – the light “information” is degraded by the earth’s atmosphere – particles in the air smaller than the wavelength of light and therefore they scatter or diffuse the light.

And yes, here lies the reason why the sky is blue. The color BLUE is scattered most (therefore we see it more) because it has a very short wavelength - and is most pronounced closer to the ground because the heavier particles sink (such as fog, smoke, pollution) and there are more of them.

Lastly, but not finally, there is one more technique I love to use in my drawings. It is the practice of including soft and hard edges in a drawing. These soft edges are often referred to as “lost edges.” You can see how they show up in some of the leaf tips, on the mast of the old boat, and on this drawing of the statue of Marcellus, the nephew of Augustus. I could have defined the entire outline of Marcellus, but instead, have rendered the entire left side of the body and drapery soft. In fact, they are nearly invisible. I felt that this technique focused the image, gave it life and in general tells a more interesting story. As it turns out, we humans don’t always need everything detailed out for us. Our brain easily fills in the parts that are not shown and completes the piece. It’s the old saying, sometimes the imagination is the most interesting.

So, here are a few techniques I use. Next time you are at a gallery, museum or art show, take a look. See if you can recognize just how the artist has managed to tell his story. Or not.

Visit Ralph's page to view his artwork and read his past posts.

Acanthus (Part 1)~ By Ralph Duncan

If you were an herbalist, you probably would refer to this spiny ground crawling plant (looks like a thistle to me) as Bear’s Breeches. Some references say the name was derived from the plant’s resemblance to a bear claw. It is rather thorny, in fact, that is pretty much the translation of the Latin form of the Greek name, akanthos. Your herbalist bent would drive you to prescribe this plant for muscle and joint ache.

Haven’t tried that, but maybe I should.

That might just be enough prestige for one plant, but, not this guy. Truth is, the Acanthus is an ancient plant whose lore and the image has endured throughout history. Most agree that it originated in the Mediterranean. Reportedly first adapted for design by the sculptor Callimachus, somewhere around the ancient city of Corinth. We can still see the results of his influence and the Acanthus on Corinthian columns today.

Wow, great medicinal value and still seen today atop the great pillars of antiquity. But even that is not the end of the story. This little plant has somehow, beyond my comprehension, has managed to endear itself to architects, carvers and sculptors, furniture makers and even the American cowboy. 

Nearly every civilization on the European continent has adapted this leaf to classic designs and ornaments. From the Greek, the Romans, the French, and the British to the Norwegians. All have their own interpretations. Some show a rather traditional looking leafy plant, other variants are characterized by long sweeping curves, and still, others are very baroque in their form with round tight curves and lots of undercutting.

The composite picture shows four different applications of the Acanthus in three different interpretations. The original Corinthian, here shown at an early stage of carving, two different applications of the Norwegian, more baroque version and a version I usually attribute to the British.

In the US the Acanthus has become a favorite and even a standard among artisans. We see it on traditional furniture and as an ornament on fixtures such as mirror and picture frames, architectural friezes, jewelry and more.

It has become standard for traditionally trained woodcarvers to spend years developing and perfecting the acanthus form. Carvers are taught, not only its history and tradition, but its structure as well, breaking down each leaf and the “proper” appearance of each curve and sweep of each component of this leaf.

In subsequent posts, I will explore some specific applications and histories of the Acanthus. In the meantime, take a look around and see if you can spot one. Maybe it is on your Bible.

Photographer unknown

Petroglyphs?—Exacta?—Trifecta? Beer and Burger?~by Ralph Duncan

“Hey, that guy at the next window just bet on #1 to win.” “That sounds like a really good bet.  Number 1 just won the last race. And that was my next pick. I am going to put 5 on him right now.” Pretty experienced I was, just having finished the instructions on how to read the Ruidoso Downs Race Program.

Although an obviously sophisticated betting strategy, if not interesting, I should back up and start this story over.

I have made many trips to New Mexico, an adopted homeland for my family and where I spent my collegiate years. Most of the trips in the last 10 years or so have been to a sleepy little artsy town nestled high in the Sacramento Mountains about 2 hours north of El Paso, Texas. I have written about Cloudcroft before. Literally in the clouds, Cloudcroft is named after an English description of a clearing covered in clouds. It is where my parents retired and were buried; in a beautiful mountain meadow in the James Canyon Cemetery, just behind the old “Cowboy Church.”

It is also adjacent to the noted Mescalero Reservation whose tribal members are direct descendants of some of the most famous of Native Americans (namely, Cochise and Geronimo).


This visit however, was to visit my brother and his wife who were also retiring in those mountains and had begun building their home. This, after cruising the Caribbean for about 5 years.

After running errands in preparation for a foundation, concrete pour, and ordering trusses and lumber package, we decided on our last day that we would take off and drive about an hour and half up to the resort town of Ruidoso, also known as the quarter horse racing capital of the country. 

Our trip required us to head down the mountain to the desert floor of the Tularosa Basin. Our plan was to hike the Three Rivers Petroglyph Site trail near Tularosa. The trail is not long, just a little over a mile round trip, but boasts over 20,000 petroglyphs. As much as we were looking forward to this hike, the temperature on the desert floor topped out at over 100 degrees and we decided that it would be too smart for two mature gentlemen to get out in that kind of heat. “Beer and a burger” at Ruidoso it was, then. It was a great drive and a great time for the only two male siblings in our family to do some catching up. 

Now when we are together and begin talking about serious stuff, the conversations usually begin something like, ”Here’s the thing about that….” It was as if all clarity about the particular subject matter would be achieved and all myths and untruths would be dispelled. Today’s topic was tiny houses and the Tularosa Basin. Today those topics overlapped, with many very tiny houses, most occupied and some deserted, scattered out into the desert. The Basin itself has its own history, which would eventually come to be significant to the US as a whole.

Stretching over 150 miles, north to south, it started out life as an ocean. Over time, as the scars on the mountain slopes reveal, the ocean dried up and formed what is now the stretch of gypsum sand known as the White Sands National Monument. It is also home to the White Sands Missile Range Nuclear Test site and site of the world’s first atomic bomb detonation. We also know it as the Trinity Site.

Covering the requisite mileage on the desert floor, we left the heat of the desert for the cooler (about 15 degrees) mountain retreat of Ruidoso.

It was a learning experience and a lesson in how to read a racing program. What’s the bet? How do you place a bet? How do you pick a winner? Your guess is as good as mine. But, it was a good day to spend with a brother. 


Two days after I arrived back home my brother texted me this headline from a local newspaper.


“Authorities say a visitor has died on a hiking trail at White Sands …” Temps were 99 degrees plus.—Glad we picked the beer and burger.

Visit Ralph's page to view his artwork and read his past posts

Meet Our Members ~ American Artist Ralph Duncan

Ralph Duncan, American Artist

I learned early in life that producing something with your hands not only allows you to realize your creative vision but also gives you a feeling of self-sufficiency. Throughout my life, I started to develop a passion for art of all kinds, influenced by some explorations early in life and a grandmother who was a well-known New Mexico painter.

Over time, this passion manifested itself through carving wood, building studio furniture, and generally exploring various art mediums. However, intrigued by the exploration of light and shadows that graphite drawing provides I began a formal atelier program led by the artist Jonathan Hardesty to hone my classical drawing skills.

Today, I strive to create visual art that has a clear basis in drawing skills and shows a liberal use of mixed media. My work is very much inspired by the work of accomplished artists and teachers like Mary Whyte, Ian Murphy, and Eileen Sorg. Most of the time my subject matter comes from the sea and my life as a sailor, deep-sea diver, lover of the ocean, pilot, engineer and designer, and naval officer.

To visit Ralph's member page, view his artwork, social media links, and read his prior blog posts, please click RALPH'S PAGE

“All at once, amazing and frustrating.”~ By Ralph Duncan

Such was my reflection on a one-of-a-kind art workshop I attended a while back while flying home from New Orleans to Seattle. This workshop by American Watercolor Artist Mary Whyte had been at the top of my bucket list for some time. 

But, I should back up a little.

I had this workshop on my schedule for more than a year. I was a little apprehensive about taking a workshop from such a prominent artist. While she is a formally trained artist and has painted extensively in oils, pastels, and pencil her medium of choice for more than two decades has been watercolors. Her passion is painting people in their environments. Not just portraits, but pieces that tell stories of those she paints. She feels that watercolors particularly lend themselves to producing luminous skin tones and effects.

Following her passion to paint those that seem to have fallen off the radar she has spent the last 20 or so years telling the stories of her neighbors, the Gullah women of St. Johns Island in South Carolina.  Her desire to paint the dying trades has carried her hundreds, if not thousands, of miles traveling the South looking for those that just work and toil, a sometimes barely subsisting by the sweat of their brow.

I was determined, before walking into that workshop to read every book by and about her and watch every video. I spent the entire last month focusing on studying mixes for skin color and drawing and painting the human face. Although practice always helps, I wasn’t quite prepared for what came next. 

Mary had us painting for three straight days, three different models with different skin colors, trying several advanced watercolor techniques. It was certainly challenging and I will be practicing for some time to come. 

She got us started by listing 3 class rules:  
1) there are no stupid questions, 
2) you must tell at least one joke, and 
3) you must paint at least one bad painting. “Don’t worry,” she said, your real workshop and your good paintings will start next week in your own studios when you start practicing these techniques.”

I have to say, the most challenging was to get deep darks with objects that blend together within the shadow, without making mud.

Over the three days, Mary demonstrated for about 6 hours, students drawing and painting for 10-11 hours, and discussions about materials, equipment, painting into shadows, mixing colors, composition and creating dominance in one’s painting. Finally, she reserves the last hour of each day as an open discussion on the “Nuts and Bolts” of being an artist. This included topics like what it takes to be an artist, how to decide what to paint, how to price and market your work, what her typical workday looks like, and what your job is an artist. It was a packed three days, winding up with an open critique of the student art.

Of course, then there was New Orleans. Our evening activities included a class dinner at an upscale restaurant, sampling the New Orleans own drink -Sazerac- and two jazz clubs that included the Snug Harbor featuring Charmeine Nevelle and her band. (Aaron Nevelle’s niece btw). 

That last thing Mary left us with was this, “Never say, I want to paint it, but it is too hard.” Mary is a brilliant and skilled painter and an excellent teacher and she is committed to both.

The workshop kept me busy in my studio at home as well. I made several attempts at the piece we worked on in New Orleans. I think I have a ways to go, but, it was a once in a lifetime experience to study with the Master.

MY CARVING CORNER~By Ralph Duncan

There is something I love about shaping wood. I am not sure if it is the organic nature of a once living thing or just the texture and the tactile feedback through the touch of my fingertips.  
But, I love it and I love carving wood. 

Woodcarving was one of my first endeavors in making art-somewhere around the year 2000. It took a while to get the hang of handling the tools, especially the sharpening part. Oh yeah, I did go through lots of band-aids as well.

But, eventually, through copying pieces and watching others and lots of practice, I began to make some pieces I was fairly happy with. Sometimes they turned into a Santa or perhaps a shelf mouse that still looks over my shoulder when I am in the shop.  

Sometimes, it will be a hand carved and painted cedar sign. 

After a lot of copying and drawing practice, I started designing my own characters, like Spencer the rabbit here. Spencer is an anthropomorphized rabbit that made his way as an idea into my head and onto a sketch. After some refinement, he was transferred to two sides of a block of wood, and of course eventually a final carving “in the round.”

Eventually, carving details started appearing on a few small pieces of furniture I designed and built. This small mirror sold at a local art gallery.  

Another piece was this hall hull model of a classic tall ship. This hand-carved piece started out life as the detailed drawing of the ship’s hull shape, called “lines.”

Since around 1790, shipwrights and naval architects have been sculpting half hull models for the purpose of designing and visualizing new boat hull designs.  Somewhat sadly, these days hulls can be generated and modified in the blink of an eye through the magic of computer modeling. Today, the practice of “building” half hulls has been relegated more to creating a souvenir of a favorite boat, much like a painting. But, for some, like me, it is an opportunity to bring back to life (without building the whole boat) some of the old classics. With access to the ship’s lines, the famous schooner AMERICA can be proudly displayed for all to enjoy. 

When an artist, artisan, or craftsman creates a painting or object with his own hands, there is at that moment a direct and immediate connection between the touch of the object to his hands and this mind and heart. At the moment of creation, all that is that artist, all that is his environment, his passions and even the music he is listening to, is reflected in that piece. For this reason, each piece, though it may be similar to another, is unique unto its own.


It is my hope that when you pick up a piece of original art of any medium, you begin to feel some sense of the artist at the time the piece was created.  If you take home one of my carvings, I hope you will pick it up often, feel it in your hands – the facets, the texture, the weight – and each time you discover something new about your feelings for that piece.  

Hey Buddy! What’er Ya Doing?

Exploring the Country through Sketches and Stories 

Or as the “Urban Sketchers” (yes that’s a real group) say, “ See The World One Drawing at a Time.”

Essentially the idea is to draw or sketch or paint (in a sketchbook most of the time), with simple equipment and usually standing in the street or elsewhere outside to capture a scene or image from direct observation. There are no rules. Except to say that while sketching from photos is common (for me too) it is not really in the spirit of the activity.

I didn’t always enjoy sketching out of doors. Frankly, I wasn't very good at it, and it always felt rather chaotic and rushed. However, since I travel quite a bit, I decided to make use of what seemed endless subject matter. So off I went with a pouch of pencils, a pocket watercolor paint tray, and a sketchbook to make a go of it.

At first, I would essentially sneak up on a subject matter, if it was a person, or find myself a place to sit out of traffic and curious eyes. I was plenty happy to get a sketch down quickly and move on, and the results were what one might expect. 

One of my first sketches was during a trip to Manhattan. I had an afternoon to myself in Lower Manhattan and decided I would catch a ferry (I always ride a ferry if I can) across the East River to the Brooklyn Bridge Park. I grabbed an adult beverage at the beer garden and sat behind this big brute of a guy. 

He appeared to be of the biker persuasion, and I decided I would try to sketch him. So I tucked in behind my beer and began to sketch. All the while making sure my sketchbook kept a low profile. I was very much a novice and tended to push too fast instead of trying to relax and enjoy myself. 

Over time, I began to slow down and felt more comfortable sketching from positions that were not de facto hiding places. As a result, I discovered I usually had a much better view of my subject.  

It seemed like my art turned a corner about the time I made another trip to Manhattan. I decided to visit the American Museum of Natural History. The Mastodon skeleton was on display as well as skeletons from many other prehistoric species. I was in the mood to take this on, so off I went. I felt charged up when I arrive in front of the giant animal. There was a table right in front of the display on which I could set my work. Here, I knew, I could take my time and enjoy the sketch.   

After about 20 minutes of sketching and head into my work, I felt something brush against my arm.  About a dozen little school children were inching in to get a closer look. I am inclined to talk to children if they look interesting, so for about the next half hour it was just they and I. I often find that when I engage someone during a sketching session, I seem to shut out the rest of the world around me. And for sure, it is a pleasant experience.

I now look upon outdoor sketching as an integral part of exploring and engaging with the world around me. I look for unusual situations — for places and people I would not likely see or visit in any other aspect of my life.

One day, a day that was unusual because I was not traveling across the country, I participated in a walking event in the nearby town of Bremerton, WA. It was an event organized to showcase art displayed outdoors. I slung my backpack full of my sketching tools and headed out. Halfway through, I noticed several street artists painting a massive run-down brick wall. I am not sure what was its original purpose, but, it was huge and a perfect blank canvas for these artists. There was paint and color everywhere. Ladders lined the wall, people in coveralls climbing up and down, running around and spray-painting everything in sight. How in the world was I going to draw this? Where would I even start?

Well, start I did. And I got through it. The nice thing about keeping the art in the sketchbook is that there is no pressure to make it perfect. I certainly did not. Even now as I look back at my sketch, I can still smell the paint in the air and feel the commotion of the day. And that is the best reason to sketch as opposed to taking a photo and moving on.

Sketching out of doors is not always about engaging with people around you. Sometimes, you come across some thing or some place you just have to sketch. There was that place this year on vacation trip to Hawaii with my wife. I was pointed to an old church one day while touring the Big Island with our friend and hostess Jackie McMurray. She knew I was looking for old sites with character and texture to sketch. A few days later, I had a day to myself and returned to that church. I didn’t know exactly what to expect, but what I found was the Henry Opukuhaia Memorial Chapel. Henry Opukuhaia inspired the American Christian Mission to Hawaii in 1820. 

It was very old, but in surprisingly good shape. There were some very old graves but some that were comparatively new. The inside was open air and appeared as if it was still used on occasion. I was grateful to be able to take my time. To think about the history of not just this particular place, but, of the Islands and the people that have lived there for so long. As I sketched, I experienced the feel and the beauty of the place and the island.

"The master in the art of living makes little distinction between his work and his play--his mind and his body --- his art and his science--- He simply pursues his vision...leaving others to decide whether he is working or playing. To him, he is always doing both."---Michener

NEW ORLEANS, DOORS FORBODING AND PIRATES ~ by Ralph Duncan

FORBODING: a strong inner feeling or notion of a future misfortune, evil, etc.

Yeah, that kind of sums it up for New Orleans. 

Before the year 2000, I had never been to New Orleans. Since then, I have traveled there almost twice a year—sometimes more often.  This last week I took an afternoon walk through the alleyways and cobblestone streets that cris-cross the historic part of downtown known as the French Quarter. 

On this trip, I was particularly interested in some of the intriguing doorways you find off the beaten path.  In a place like New Orleans, your mind can play tricks on you. One can imagine all sorts of things when peering into a darkened entry. 

Is this some ghostly portal? What devilish creatures haunted this place a hundred years ago? 

Or did it house that relief from months at sea, that so many worn out sailors craved?

On one of my previous trips, I was drawn to one of the most famous sites in New Orleans - Pirate's Alley. 

Graphite drawing by Ralph Duncan

Famous or infamous, detailed, factual information about the history of Pirate's Alley is elusive. And yet, it is one of the most photographed and painted landmarks of the city. One can find some version of a painting or photograph in nearly every shop in the French Quarter.

I had heard about it and sought it out, walked it many times before I decided to pencil my version.  And I went back several times after. It is one of those places that you can get a different feel each time you stand on the cobblestone street; a street that is just 600 feet long and 16 feet wide. In the daytime warmth of the south, there is a feeling of welcome and contentment. But in the evening, as darkness begins to fall and the fog from the Mississippi rolls in, you might start looking over your shoulder, fearful of---well, pirates.

It seems that the pirate Jean Lafitte (although he would have referred to himself as a privateer) is the main character in the story of how this alleyway got its name. Lafitte, his brother Pierre, and their men came to New Orleans about 1803, the year of the Louisiana Purchase. Accounts say that people would whisper behind his back---PIRATE! Lafitte and his band controlled the black market commerce and the sale of illegal goods openly in Pirate's Alley.  Throughout history, it seems that the line between outlaw and hero has many times been blurred. This time was no exception. It has been said that Pirate's Alley was the meeting place between Lafitte and Andrew Jackson when they allied together to defeat the British at the Battle of New Orleans in 1814.

Some say the street is as famous as the residence of the renowned author William Faulkner. In fact, his former living quarters is now the home of Faulkner House Books. But, truth be known, Faulkner only lived in Pirate's Alley in 1925 for about six months.  But that is New Orleans and Pirate's Alley; famous for food, fun, and great legends, and an excellent subject for artists. Here is my version. Enjoy—and watch out for pirates!