Americana - Fizzical Attraction 1942 - Side by Side Photograph by Mike Savad

Americana - Fizzical Attraction 1942 - Side by Side

by Mike Savad

Canvas Print

$174

Framed Print

$193

Art Print

$38

Poster

$38

Metal Print

$180

Acrylic Print

$188

Wood Print

$160

Tapestry

$102

Throw Pillow

$35

Fleece Blanket

$63

Duvet Cover

$135

Shower Curtain

$88

Bath Towel

$39

Ornament

$20

Jigsaw Puzzle

$60

Tote Bag

$43

Weekender Tote Bag

$50

Zip Pouch

$30

Portable Battery Charger

$90

Yoga Mat

$70

Greeting Card

$19

Spiral Notebook

$24

Sticker

$9.00

iPhone Case

$49

Beach Towel

$39

Round Beach Towel

$85

Weekender Tote Bag

$50

Coffee Mug

$19

Men's Clothing

$30

Women's Clothing

$30

Youth Clothing

$26

Toddler Clothing

$24

Baby Clothing

$28

Title

Americana - Fizzical Attraction 1942 - Side by Side

Artist

Mike Savad

Medium

Photograph - Hand Colored Photo

Description

Hand colored photo from 1942
Original title: Soft drink and beer signs at beer parlor near camp
Photographer: Arthur Siegel
Location: 4000 J. Maddy Parkway, Interlochen, MI

It started with one, a limited-edition root beer girl with a wink that just wouldn't quit. He said it was for the decor. Ambiance. Branding. But now there are forty-seven.

Forty-seven perfect, laminated smiles lining every inch of the cafe. Some double-stacked. Some duct-taped where no sane person would look. He calls them the collection, says it like a prayer.

He's given them names. Not the model names, his names. Daisy by the fridge. Lola near the register. Cherry stands guard by the men's room like a bombshell on duty. He doesn't throw any out, not even the sun-bleached ones. "They've served," he says, like they're veterans of some fizzy war.

He sleeps in the storage closet, says the dining area's "too crowded with guests." You ask about the soda, but he's busy polishing a cardboard shoulder, murmuring, "She always knew how to sell it." He speaks in jingles now. They say he lives alone. He'd disagree.

Each standee is placed with care, behind doors, over the fryer, nestled between crates of syrup. No dust. No disorder. The cola girl by the sink knows his secrets. The lager twin in the corner never judges.

He doesn't date. Doesn't need to. Not when he's surrounded by women who never leave, never argue, never stop smiling. Life-size. High-gloss. Perfect.

It's no longer a cafe. It's a shrine. A cardboard theatre of affection.
And for him, every day ends in a standee ovation.

Color notes:
I don't know who is crazier, this guy for collecting every one of these things, or me the one that researched every single one of them and colored them all in. They seem to have an almost infinite amount of them overlapping one over the other. And just when I think I'm done, there are more hidden in the shadows. You can barely see the guy at the register, he just blends in, but he is the only male facing us.