Urban Tourists

©tom stoye

Thousands of cyclists turn off of Congress Street. They come from all over southeastern Michigan to participate in the Slow Roll, a weekly bike cruise that brings together a diverse crowd of bicycle enthusiasts who show up in droves every Monday night at a designated meeting place.

This event has caught fire since it's inception five years ago, and is becoming one of the crown jewels of what is happening in Detroit in the present. There is a small fee to participate, but it's well worth it for the feel-good experience of hanging out with thousands of like-minded people who gather for this weekly ride.

July 4th

©tom stoye

Smoke 'em If You Got 'em

©tom stoye

This guy was making his way through a dense crowd at the Shepard Fairey opening. His super-sized cigar was a foot ahead of him. If you got it…smoke it.

I Love Violence

I just rediscovered a photograph that I took years ago.

In 2010, I received a phone call from a reporter (from England), who was doing a story about a "night in the life" of a Detroit city cop. I was getting paid to do complementary photos that would go along with the story, and being lean at the time, I needed the money, so I said yes.

The reporter was supposed to be here to report about the North American International Auto Show, but his editors wanted some secondary material that would focus on the "underbelly" of Detroit. At the time, there was an excessive amount of media reports that highlighted Detroit's demise, so this article, would fit neatly into the cookie-cutter post industrial ruins story that was circulating at the time. I hated those stories, and now here I was as an active participant.

Over the years, I've had similar requests that involved scouting "ruin porn" for film crews and the like, and every time I do, I end up feeling compromised. Over time, I've learned to politely decline.

Back to the story… For two hours, I drove around the city's upper West side looking for a spectacle to photograph.  In the squad car was myself, the reporter, and two police officers. One cop had to sit in the back seat with the reporter, because I insisted of being up front to photograph the cop who was driving the cop-car. The guy driving, whose name I can't remember, was a loosely put together ruffian, who went by the nickname, "Mental." He ended up being our tour guide, as we poached for crimes yet to be committed.

At midnight, we finally received a call over the radio, about a stabbing related to a family dispute. As we drove up to the house, "Mental" told us to wait outside, while they went in. What the hell? I had patiently sat in this squad car listening to tall tales of life in the Detroit Police Department, and now I had to sit on the front lawn and wait? I wanted to get inside and photograph God damn it!

The reporter had different ideas. Turns out, he wasn't much of an investigative reporter. He immediately made a beeline for the bushes in front of the house, and hid from any possible harm that might be inflicted upon himself.  I thought this was odd, seeing as how we had a posse of Detroit Police who had arrived on the scene with guns ready.

I have deep respect and admiration for seasoned investigative reporters with feet on the ground. As a street photographer, we frequently cross paths, but this reporter, for whatever reason, had made the wrong career decision. He was a trembling chicken-shit, clearly out of his element.  I was in my element, but was being denied access. So I waited.

Waiting outside, I heard the chaos of what I was missing, and then suddenly, "Mental" peeked his head out the front door, and nonchalantly said, "You want to see the show?" I walked into the house, followed by the peaked reporter, who apprehensively followed me through the front door.

What was called in as a "stabbing," ended up being a slight laceration that a brother had inflicted on the leg of his sister after a family argument.

I never ended up following the story to its end. I'm sure it exists somewhere online, but ultimately I wasn't that interested, because it wasn't much of a story after all…at least not a story that needed to be shared outside of a troubled family dealing with a crisis. At the time, my guilt in participating was clouded by my need to get paid, but I still felt weird about it, and hoped that nobody from Detroit would read the finished piece, seeing as how I was complicit in it's creation.

In the end, what stuck with me, was the photograph I had taken of "Mental's" locker inside the police station after we got back. Here it is.

Hantz Farms

John Hantz is a capitalist who made his fortune in the financial services industry. He is also the owner of a controversial piece of property that is now being developed into an urban forest, on the east side of Detroit.

In 2012, after years of negotiations, the city handed over 140 acres of land to Hantz. It will take years, even decades, before we truly see the effects of this grand social experiment, but with an army of volunteers, and what appears to be a limitless amount of cash, Hantz continues to move forward with his plan.

Opponents looked at it as a corporate takeover of Detroit land, and are fearful of the effect it will have on small community gardens and DIY economies that exist in the area. How disruptive the plan is to the local economy remains to be seen, but for now, Hantz Woodlands is becoming a reality.

©tom stoye

DElectricity Lights Up Detroit

It's here! DELECTRICITY, the nighttime festival of art and light is back again, for what hopes to be an incredible weekend, showcasing the plethora of talented artists from around the globe.  This year they're holding the event a bit earlier, in hopes of escaping the possibility of crappy weather that plagued the last DElectricity a couple of years ago. Despite the weather though, people turned up in droves to catch a glimpse of the diverse installations that popped up all over MidTown.

The event runs this weekend September 26 & 27th (Friday and Saturday) from 7pm to midnight. On Saturday, don't miss the DElectricity Light Bike Parade, that runs a 4 mile course through Midtown.

For a complete rundown of events, go here to check out the schedule of events.

2014 Hamtramck Yacht Club Canoe Races

What better place to be on Labor Day weekend than the epicenter of the labor unions? As Kid Rock has so eloquently stated, "There ain't no party like a Detroit Party," and once a year, the great citizens of Hamtramck do just that at the annual Labor Day Festival. The Hamtramck Yacht Club Canoe Races are the highlight of the festival, and worthy of being at the top of anyone's list, when it comes to memorable events to occupy the weekend.

With Arts Beats & Eats, The Detroit Jazz Festival and The Labor Day Parade, there's no shortage of activities around town. Every year though, my wife and I find ourselves coming back to watch the insanely competitive daredevils of Hamtramck, navigate their street-canoes through the perilous inner-coastal waters of Jos. Campau Street, with the hope of bringing home the coveted wooden ship, steering wheel trophy.

With its rising popularity, a whopping eight teams registered for the event this year. New comers like Dunwell's Screen Printing, Schramm's Meadery and the Painted Lady Lounge, quickly found out  how difficult it can be running through the streets of Hamtramck in a ramshackle canoe, with a thousand crazed lunatics throwing watered projectiles through the air. The "newbies" were handily  eliminated in the first round of competition by experienced veterans from the Polish Sea League, Suzy's Bar, Jean's SS Holy Water and last years reigning champions from the New Dodge Bar.

The third and final round, pitted New Dodge Bar and Suzy's against each other, with Suzy's reigning supreme and exclusive bragging rights for the year to come.

2014 Detroit Jazz festival

©tom stoye

Another great Detroit Jazz Festival, although the big name acts seemed scant when compared to previous years.  Nonetheless, there were plenty of good acts to see.

The highlight at this years festival was Pharaoh Sanders, whose band was thoroughly engaging, playing through a set that featured some old classics and some experimental numbers that highlighted the solo talents of its band members.

This years festival was unfortunately cut short by a late night thunder storm that ended up with the cancellation of Stanley Clarke's set. Unfortunately, the promoters where over an hour late getting the band on stage, and one had to wonder if they couldn't have fit his act it into the schedule if they would have got the band on stage in a timely manner. Either way, I'm anxiously awaiting next years lineup.

Jay Adams 1961-2014

Adam's is probably not the greatest skater of all time, but I can say without fear of being wrong, that he is clearly the archetype of modern day skateboarding.

Stacy Peralta

©kent sherwood

Skateboard innovator Jay Adams passed away today from a heart attack.

Jay was one of the original Z-Boy's; a group of misfits from southern California, who bucked popular mainstream trends to create a style that would become the prototype for modern day skating.

A true innovator, Jay helped revolutionized the sport from the trick-based, upright style of the early 60's, to the radical, down-to-the-ground surfer style made famous by Jay and other members of the Z-boys.

I never picked up a skateboard in my youth, but I've always had a taste for innovators and game changers, and Jay Adams was just that.  A true revolutionary.

Choosing between Shit or Shinola

On Shinola, Detroit's Misguided White Knight
Written by John Moy for fourpins.com

I wanted to like Shinola. I wanted to so badly. A Detroit "design firm" manufacturing products in the United States that's not another car company? I was ready to ride or die. But, like anything in this world that sounds too good to be true, Shinola's press kit is full of asterisks:

*Shinola isn't really a Detroit company. Bedrock Brands owns Shinola. There is no website for Bedrock, but the privately held conglomerate was created by the co-founder of Fossil watches, and owns other brands like Filson. It is based in Texas.

*The watches aren’t manufactured in Detroit, but they are assembled here from parts made overseas from their partner, Swiss-based watch manufacturer Ronda AG.

*The bikes aren't manufactured in Detroit either. Again, they are assembled here with parts made elsewhere. Although the frames are welded in Wisconsin.

All of these asterisks wouldn't be necessary except that Shinola's entire presence is predicated on its ties to the City of Detroit. The justification for the cheapest men's watch being $550? For bicycles that cost a minimum of $1,950? American manufacturing costs more. Quality materials cost more. American products are inherently worth more. Like buying a pair of Toms helps some poor Third World kid, by buying a two thousand dollar bike you're doing your part to help rebuild a fallen American city. In this way, Shinola reminds us what the American dream actually is: a selling point, nothing more than a sales pitch.

To paint this Rockwellian picture Shinola has spared no expense. They brought in Sky Yaeger, the designer of Bianchi's Pista model, among others, to design their bikes. They spent $14.5 million on their NYC TriBeCa flagship. (I wonder how much they invested in the real estate they occupy in Detroit? The details of the company's agreement to lease 30,000 square feet in the old GM Argonaut building have not been released.) They have filled out their retail stores with products from HICKOREE'S, Steven Alan, Archival Clothing and Common Projects. They even hired Bruce Weber for an ad campaign. Instead of starting in his parent’s garage, Shinola is a trust fund kid that decided one day he wanted to start a company and had his dad buy him all the cool stuff. And much to my chagrin, all this money seems to paying off. Shinola's roster of stockists is impressive. Their initial offering of watches sold out before they were even assembled.

Shinola is using my city as its shill, pushing a manufactured, outdated and unrealistic ideal of America.

The most irksome thing about Shinola and its opportunistic promotional campaign? While they've mastered opportunistic marketing, they get the most important aspects of being a "design firm" all wrong. See, the products just aren't that great.

The brand sells denim produced by a Detroit company. Again, on its surface, not such a bad move. Yet, in an interview on their blog, the owner of the Detroit Denim Co. (and Shinola by proxy) perpetuates selling points about selvedge denim that are simply not true. The selvedge aspect of denim does not make it wear better. It's not inherently better than non-selvedge denim. They say not to wash your jeans. Going so far as to suggest putting your jeans in a freezer and washing them in the ocean or even in vinegar, all of which is complete bullshit and if you don’t believe me check out this video where denim lords Andrew Chen and Kiya Babzani completely ether these myths in less than three minutes.

The watches? As the New York Times' Jon Caramanica aptly put it, the watches "…[suggest] timepieces of six decades ago, or public school wall clocks." They are made with quartz movements, which in and of itself isn't a bad thing, especially when attempting to build a watch manufacturing company from the ground up. But Shinola's emphasis is supposedly on quality, on craftsmanship, on unique goods handmade by hardworking American hands. Most mechanical movements are unique and proprietary. They are marvels of craftsmanship that seem to embody the mechanical prowess Shinola attempts to glom onto by positioning itself inside the former General Motors Design Laboratory. Currently, I doubt American manufacturing is capable of crafting mechanical movements. In that way, Shinola's watches belie the notion that American manufacturing is simply better than the rest of the world's. Granted, a mechanical movement would significantly raise the price of Shinola’s watches, but when you're introducing $2,000 bikes and simultaneously offering $5,000 Rolexes and vintage American flags that range in price from fifteen to fifty thousand dollars, price can't really be that much of an issue, can it? The thought of a company selling such luxuriously priced goods in a city that, according to the 2010 Census, has a per capita income of $14,000 is downright laughable.

Even their social media campaign are insulting:

"For every #SayNiceThings post on social media, we will write those intentions on paper embedded with seeds. The seed paper will later be planted throughout Detroit, specifically for use in the beautification of a dog park near our Detroit store."

This is Shinola's "Say Nice Things" campaign. A take on a '70s movement designed to combat the negative press Detroit was generating. This Pollyanna outlook on Detroit simply glosses over details about the city that don't conveniently fit Shinola’s narrative.

Listen, I can stomach hipsters planting flowers written with nice things about Detroit for a dog park one day. I can take $500 quartz watches and a section on their webshop entitled "Curated" that offers American flags that cost more than a brand new car. I can even take ten dollar cold-pressed juices when the city lacks grocery stores. Even those aren't too much of an affront. What I can't take is the white knighting of Shinola's promotional campaigns. The company insists that "Detroit isn’t as bad as it seems"—that there are happy and proud people here too. To demonstrate just how optimistic and amazing Detroiters are, Shinola enlisted Bruce Weber and Carolyn Murphy—both out of towners, both white—to shoot the company’s latest ad campaign. The accompanying video, subtitled "A snapshot of life in the Motor City," features photogenic models pedaling two thousand dollar bikes through the city. Photos of adorable black kids with a beautiful, benevolent white woman seem to be the centerpiece of Weber's campaign for the company. They even have a video of one of the little girls rapping. Bruce Weber is quoted as saying, "People were really friendly. They looked you in the eye when they said hello on the street, and they greeted you with a smile." Detroit may be bankrupt, but that doesn't mean its citizens aren't normal, functioning human beings, Bruce.

This idea that people would be surprised by how human and artistic and talented Detroit's citizens are if they just came and visited is ludicrous and emblematic of a new type of gentrification, one that seems even more insidious than what has occurred in, say, Brooklyn. Shinola and other entrepreneurs market themselves as white knights, swooping in to save the noble savages. They help assuage the guilt associated with gentrification and consumerism by pointing out how strong and proud and culturally important the natives truly are—that simply by choosing to be in Detroit, Shinola is somehow better than other companies selling similar products. Shinola is using my city as its shill, pushing a manufactured, outdated and unrealistic ideal of America. And, in that way, the company’s slogan—"Where American is Made"—is more accurate than its owners could have ever hoped.

Home

© modis ssc

Satori Circus: 63 Minutes (of Random Balance) @ The Detroit Film Theatre Stage

© brett j. lawrence

Detroit performance artist Satori Circus celebrates his 25th year with an evening of madcap antics, stoic tableau and familiar narratives that have psychic and topical resonance with our daily lives. Detroit audiences and international spectators have enjoyed and welcomed him in legendary venues; his appearance on the DFT stage is presented as a collaboration of Friday Night Live!

The show is free with museum admission.

Friday, January 24, 2014

Performances @ 7pm & 9pm

King: A Filmed Record…Montgomery to Memphis @ the Detroit Film Theatre

Montgomery to Memphis is a monumental documentary that follows Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. from 1955 to 1968, in his rise from a regional activist to world renowned leader of the Civil Rights movement. Rare footage of King's speeches, protests and arrests are interspersed with scenes of other high-profile supporters and opponents of the cause, punctuated by heartfelt testimonials by some of Hollywood's biggest stars. Originally presented on March 20th, 1970, at a length of three hours (plus intermission). Since that time, the film has been circulated in a version shortened by more than an hour. Newly restored by the Library of Congress, the original version can now be seen in its entirety.

purchase tickets

Sunday, January 19, 2014: 4:30pm
Monday, January 20, 2014: 2:00pm

Detroit Unleaded @ The Detroit Film Theatre

Director Rola Nashaf expands her award winning short film for her feature-length debut, a spirited and engaging comedy-drama set in a small, family-owned inner-city gas station, in Detroit, where a budding romance encounters unexpected obstacles. Forced to take over the family business after the unexpected death of his father, a young Lebanese-American man named Sami (actor E.J. Assi) finds himself saddled with a lifestyle he never wanted, interfering with his plans for college and complicating his budding romance with a beautiful and very proper woman (actor Nada Shouhayib). Exploring race relations, generational differences and economic problems with humanity and wit, Detroit Unleaded is a winningly modest landmark in a new wave of Arab-American filmmaking and one of the year's most welcome directorial debuts.

The film won the Discovery Award at the Toronto International Film Festival. (92 minutes)

Purchase Tickets

Hours
Friday, 11/15 7pm
Saturday, 11/16 10pm
Sunday, 11/17 7pm
Monday, 11/18 7pm
Tuesday, 11/19 7pm

The Alley Project

The Alley Project, or TAP, is an initiative of Young Nation, a small, community-based youth group in southwest Detroit, that occupies the alley between Avis and Falcon Street. It's founder, Erik Howard, is a photographer and community activist, who created the environment to support the development and creative growth of neighborhood youth living in the area. TAP is a unique space, that allows kids to be in a safe environment where art is inspired, created, and displayed, alongside neighbors, business owners, and other artists, who willingly provide the necessary resources, to build reciprocal relationships that benefit both urban youth and the surrounding community.

© tom stoye

© tom stoye

© tom stoye

Philistines, Foodies and Ruin Porn: Anthony Bourdain on CNN

© tom stoye

Last night, I watched Anthony Bourdain's Parts Unnown on CNN. The much anticipated season finale follows Bourdain while he traipses through Detroit, in search of good food and memorable experiences.

There have been countless attempts by curious outsiders to define Detroit in its current state. After reading Bourdain's intriguing blog post on Tumblr this week, I had high hopes that Parts Unknown would balance past perspectives with a broader world-view of what makes Detroit tick. Based soley on his written piece, Bourdain showed a willingness to expand beyond the monotonous narratives that have pigeon-holed Detroit in the past as the shit-hole of the Midwest.

Anthony Bourdain is an inquisitive person, and once you get past his haute bourgeoise shtick, he has a genuine curiosity about people and cultures that go beyond Nielson ratings and audience appeal. What makes Parts Unknown hit on all cylinders, is when Bourdain is breaking bread with complete strangers. This was especially true during the Detroit visit.

With each new meal Bourdain eats, viewers are carried closer to the heart and soul of what makes Detroit so damn special. Regardless of the declining population, Detroit is a city of people, and it is those that are left who define us, not the miles of empty lots and abandoned buildings.

With food often acting as the conduit, Bourdain introduces us to a diverse group of individuals, each imparting there own sense of hometown-wisdom regarding food and/or Detroit. These are tender moments, that make up for local blow-hard Charlie LeDuff who tries too hard to play the part of the street-wise tour guide.

As the show progresses, you can see Bourdain tiring with LeDuff's act, culminating in an awkward moment at the urban-chic Guns & Butter pop-up dinner, at the Library Street Collective. Unannounced, LeDuff pours his liquor into a bowl of soup made by acclaimed chef Craig Liekfelt. Looking embarrased, Bourdain responds by referring to LeDuff as a philistine. Even funnier than the philistine remark though, is when Bourdain tells LeDuff he'd stick a fork in his neck if it where his restaurant. Ouch!

What makes LeDuff charming while engaging street-folks, doesn't work so well in a social setting, where sophistication and class are required, and in this particular moment, LeDuff looks out of his league. Nonetheless, it was an entertaining part of the segment, that made up for some dull moments that proceeded it.

Self admittedly Bourdain confesses to his fascination with what Detroiters begrudgingly refer to as "ruin porn." And for the first twenty minutes of the program, he can't seem to look away, as we witness street after street of abandoned buildings and empty lots, that take up way too much screen time in the beginning of the program. Balancing this out though, is a thoughtful narration by Bourdain, complemented by some beautiful cinematography. Once Bourdain sits down to eat a coney-dog at Duly's Place in southwest Detroit, the stench of urban decay soon fades away.

From Duly's we are taken off the beaten path to some obscure eateries that include a clandestine visit to  a Salvadorian Pupusa House, with chicharrones filled pupusas and tamales served as the main entrees. So secret is the Pupusa House, we are not allowed to see the location or the chef, which makes you wonder how many internet searches last night included the words, "Salvadorian cuisine, Detroit." From there, Bourdain makes a stop at Engine 23 Firehouse, just around the corner from the Packard Plant, where he eats a home cooked meal of lamb chops and crab cakes, while listening to the woeful tales of overworked fireman discussing the poorly funded fire department. There's also a visit to Greedy Greg's front-yard barbecue, on the cities east side, where hosts Rochelle and Greg treat Bourdain to some DIY barbecue, that includes some delicious homemade ribs and rib tips. Afterwords, Bourdain is taken inside their home and treated to some "luxurious" pork loaded collards. A dish he's so impressed by, he complements Rochelle by saying, "They're some of the best greens I've ever had."

Other vignettes on the show include feel good visits with people making a difference in and around the city.  These are brief moments, but they show a willingness to balance the program with resourceful grass-roots organizations, who are willing to go the distance against a city lacking in leadership or vision. There's time spent with Tom Nardone of the Mower Gang, where Bourdain volunteers to help Tom and his gang mow the waist-high grass of an overgrown playground, so neighborhood kids can play there again. And at the end of the show, there's an insightful visit with Malik Yakini, the founder of D-Town Farms, who discusses the benefits of the locally grown food movement: a movement that is gaining steam with the overabundance of derelict properties throughout the city.

The limitations of a one hour show are hardly the ideal platform to start a conversation about Detroit but what is most intriguing about Parts Unknown, is that food can serve as the starting point to begin the narrative.

All things being equal,  Detroiters are a resilient bunch, and whatever negative attributes the media chooses to direct our way, we keep finding ways to move through it. That reality, the reality of our past, is what defines us in terms of how we choose to move forward.

Anthony Bourdain Visits Detroit

This Sunday, American chef and T.V. host, Anthony Bourdain, will be visiting Detroit for the season finally of Parts Unknown on CNN, an Emmy Award winning show, that follows Bourdain as he ventures down the road less traveled, in the hopes of unearthing great food and interesting people: something Detroit has no shortage of. 

There are a few sneak peeks floating around the web, and some of it focuses on repetitive themes concerning Detroit as the archetype of a failed city. Once again, usual suspects are rounded up: deindustrialization, abandoned buildings, white flight, and so on and so forth, as if somehow, there might exist a single viewer out there who has not been clued in yet. 

Predictably, lazy reporters continue to focus on the mandatory bullet points of a city in ruin, while blindly missing what makes Detroit one of the greatest cities on the planet. As much as I hate hearing media outlets play-out the worn down "poor Detroit" mantra, there's a part of me that acknowledges the truths in it, but like many natives of the city, I've become quite adept at tuning it out, knowing that our best kept secrets are not for everyones consumption. 

To Bourdain's credit, once the cameras turn away from the seductive allure of ruin porn, he shows a willingness to give Detroit the big warm hug it deserves, by proudly proclaiming his love for a flawed but great American city.

Below is an essay that can be found on Bourdain's Tumblr page (see below) that will hopefully be reflected in the show that airs this Sunday. As Bourdain so aptly writes, "Detroit looks like nowhere else. Detroit looks like motherfuckin' Detroit. As it should.

……………………………………………………………………………………

Anthony Bourdain at Duly's in southwest Detroit. Photographer unknown.

This is it.

The last episode of our second season of PARTS UNKNOWN.
And I’m glad it’s set in Detroit. Because Detroit, for many Americans, is an abstraction—truly, if incredibly, a part unknown.

One only need look at some of our representatives who, a while back, were actually suggesting that it might be okay to let the beleaguered auto industry fend for itself, to leave Detroit to its fate to see how blithely willing much of America would be to point the gun straight at their own heads and pull the trigger.

Detroit isn’t just a national treasure. It IS America. And wherever you may live, you wouldn’t be there—and wouldn’t be who you are in the same way—without Detroit.

Detroiters hate what they call “ruin porn.” And it’s understandable the unease and even anger that must come with seeing tourists, gawkers, (and television crews) come to your city to pose giddily in front of abandoned factories, public buildings, the symbols of former empire.

I, too, I’m afraid, am guilty of wallowing in ruin porn, of making sure we pointed our cameras, lingered even, in the waist high grass, overgrown gardens, abandoned mansions, crumbling towers, denuded neighborhoods of what was once an all powerful metropolis, the engine of capitalism.

But there was no turning away. It’s there—everywhere you look, right in your face, taking up skyline, dead center: the things that were left after Everything Went Terribly Wrong. These aren’t just empty buildings—they’re monuments. And we shot them, illuminated them like monuments, with, I hope, the same respect as the Parthenon, the Coliseum, the remains of a magnificent—if ancient—civilization.

As much as many of our Detroit fans might have wanted this show to be about what’s going right in their city, neither is it particularly about what went wrong.

We know what went wrong.

The fall of the automobile industry, the shrinkage of population, flight of the middle class, drugs… and some of the most spectacularly, unapologetically rapacious, incompetent and corrupt leadership imaginable.

But I love Detroit. I think it’s beautiful. I think it’s one of the most beautiful cities in America—still. The same incompetence and neglect that led to its current state of affairs has, at least, left us with a cityscape that even now, taunts us with the memories of our once outsized dreams. Unlike most other cities who ran into trouble when steel or textiles or industry left town, Detroit didn’t (or couldn’t ) go on the usual idiot building spree, tearing down old buildings and paving over city center as “pedestrian malls”, ruining the city’s character and stripping its center in favor of the “shopping districts”, convention centers and faux “ye Olde Towne” hubs that so many places imagined would revive their fortunes and instead left their city centers empty, characterless and without heart—looking like everyplace else.

Detroit looks like nowhere else. Detroit looks like motherfuckin’ Detroit. As it should.

I’ll say it again. And again.

I love Detroit. I love Detroiters. You’ve got to have a sense of humor to live in a city so relentlessly fucked. You’ve got to be tough—and occasionally even devious. And Detroiters are funny, tough—and supreme improvisers. They are also among the best and most fun drinkers in the country.

A few years ago, for another series, we filmed a show called “The Rust Belt” but which we jokingly referred to as “The Fucked Up Cities Show. We spent time in Buffalo, Baltimore and Detroit. When the show aired, the responses from Baltimore and Buffalo were mostly outrage:

“Why didn’t you show our new symphony Hall?”
“That’s not the city I live in! Why didn’t you show the positive side? There are great craft breweries in the hipster district!”

Detroiters however, reacted differently.

“We’re WAY more fucked up than those punks,” many told me, with the straight on, confrontational, slightly injured pride that makes Detroiters so..well…awesome. “What are THEY whining about?”

Consensus seemed to be that Baltimore and Buffalo didn’t deserve to be on the same hour of television as their beloved— if deeply afflicted city—because their problems weren’t nearly as massive—and the strength, toughness and sense of humor required to stay loyal to Detroit was of another level entirely.

Looking back, if I were to compare Detroit’s mentality to any other city, I’d look to New Orleans. Both city’s hardcore, born and bred “ain’t never leaving” home teams refuse to even consider living anywhere else—no matter what happens. It takes a special breed.

So, this show is not about what went wrong. Or how bad things are. It’s about improvisers. About what it takes to dig in and stay. I hope, that even among ruins, audiences will see what I see: an extraordinarily beautiful city—unlike any other in America—still. It’s where so many of our uniquely American hopes and dreams were forged—the things that make us who we are: the automobile, the highway—the dream of mobility— for ALL Americans. Credit. Music. It’s where the American Dream was created. And it’s STILL the American Dream—if a different one that we are, all of us, together, sooner or later, going to have to figure out.

Detroit is shrinking.
And changing.
The artists and innovators, activists, and artisans who are coming in will no doubt, do much to transform the city—mostly in very positive ways.

But who will live in the Detroit of 25 years in the future?
It will still be beautiful. That’s for sure.
It will certainly be smaller.

But will all the tough bastards who stuck it out for so long—against ridiculous odds—who fought and continue to fight for their neighborhoods and their homes—will they still be there?

Those who watch this show, smugly thinking, “that could never happen to my city” are dreaming. Detroit’s problems are America’s problems.

One only need look at New York’s Lower East Side, or Meat District to see what’s possibly coming down the pike for Detroit when it inevitably “recovers”. What’s coming down the pike for all of us.

Empty lots and burned out buildings are bad. But are cupcake shops, galleries and artisanal baristas necessarily better?
Maybe, probably, but maybe not.
And we better ask ourselves if that’s what we want.

Oh. And before I forget. Every time I visit Detroit, somebody asks me if I’ve had a good Coney yet.

Apparently, I never had a great one.

I finally got one.

I understand now.

Dutch Leonard, In Memoriam 1925-2013

"If it sounds like writing, I rewrite it."

Elmore Leonard, 2010

photograph by Marc Hauser/getty images

Elmore "Dutch" Leonard passed away this morning, from complications brought on by a recent stroke. He was 87 years old.

It is said that "time heals all wounds," but when I heard the news of Dutch's death, it reminded me just how unsympathetic time can be, as it quietly and methodically moves forward, never concerning itself with sentimentalities and bonds that are forged within the timeline of a life lived.

Both my parents have had long storied relationships with Dutch, dating back to the forties. My Dad worked at Campbell Ewald as an intern back then. It was a low-paying job that Dad eventually quit in order to provide for his family. Dutch was a copywriter at the agency. A job he held while trying to jump-start his career as a novelist, diligently writing short stories and western novels in his spare time, with the hope of eventually landing a book deal. Dutch's first wife Beverly, was my Mom's best friend. A friendship that has lasted nearly 70 years now. It was through Beverly and Dutch that my parents were introduced to each other on a blind date.

 In 1948, my Mom, Beverly and Dutch were at the Wyoming Show Bar in Detroit to see jazz pianist Bobby Stevenson perform. Dutch had phoned my Dad, who was an avid jazz aficionado, and asked him if he wanted to meet up with them at the club to see Stevenson play that night. Dad showed up along with another friend of the Leonard's who was obnoxiously drunk and loud, embarrassing my Dad, who was sullen and speechless throughout the evening. Unimpressed, and put-off by how shy he was that evening,  Mom drove home with the Leonard's that evening, sending my Dad home alone with his tail between his legs. During the ride home, Beverly pleaded with my Mom to give it one more try. The next evening, the plan was for the four of them to meet at the Uptown Club for Campbell Ewald's annual Christmas party. Just prior to the start of the evening though, Dutch and Beverly would cancel, as one of their children was running a fever, leaving my parents, who barely knew each other, in the uncomfortable position of going out on a blind date together.  Three years later they would marry, and as people often say, "The rest is history."

After Dad quit his job at Campbell Ewald, he maintained a somewhat casual relationship with Dutch, but eventually their relationship would fade, as each of them went different directions and the randomness of life put them on different paths. Dutch and Beverly divorced, and like any divorce, sides were taken, and the dynamics of my parents relationship with the Leonard's changed.

My Dad remained fiercely loyal to Dutch though, taking time to visit him whenever an opportunity would present itself, whether it was through mutual friends, family weddings, or  anything else that would give him the chance to reconnect with his old friend.

For the entirety of his life, Dad closely followed the arc of Dutch's literary career, reading every new book the minute it hit the shelves. Many of the books were inscribed with personal notes from Dutch, notes that could only be written between two friends with a past.

Dutch was becoming increasingly famous the older he got, and once his screenplays hit big, he went from being a local Detroit celebrity to a nationally recognized name in literary circles. Dad was enamored with his rise to fame and proudly wore it on his sleeve, while my Mom was always measured in her response; as if being too impressed might somehow compromise her loyalty to her best friend Beverly. That being said, both my parents adored Dutch, and fondly remembered the times they spent together, especially in their youth.

For my Dad, deep down inside, beyond the shallow veil of fame and fortune, I think he felt a deep sense of gratitude for Dutch's role in introducing him to the love of his life. While their relationship wasn't always reciprocal, Dutch would show up at opportune moments when it really counted, and Dad, forever loyal, was always appreciative.

The last time I saw Dutch Leonard was when my Dad was in the hospital after suffering a heart attack. A byproduct of his heart attack was he was disoriented and showing signs of dementia. In light of this, our family had made it known that other than immediate family, we were not taking visitors. Dutch, the faithful old pal, showed up anyhow, bringing with him a copy of his latest book. Written on the inside of the book, describing my Dad's situation as aptly as he could, the great author had inscribed the words,"Walter, get outta here!"

A Day for Detroit; Protecting the DIA's Collection for Future Generations

Today we are celebrating the vast and important collection of the Detroit Institute of Arts. Art critic Tyler Green has organized, "A Day for Detroit," urging dozens of art related websites and blogs to highlight pieces of art from the museums collection in order to garner support for the museum, as it faces the possible sale of its assets (art). Assets that could disappear from the public eye if they were to be sold off to private collectors and institutions outside of the Detroit area. 

The recent bankruptcy filing by the city of Detroit has created a possible scenario whereby the Detroit Institute of Art's world-class collection would be liquidated, in order to alleviate some of Detroit's insurmountable dept. Emergency Manager Kevin Orr has hired Christies Auction House to appraise the collection at a cost of $200,000 dollars. Although  Kevin Orr claims there are no concrete plans to sell parts of the collection at the moment, the arrival of Christies shows a serious commitment on the part of Orr to explore possibilities that would justify such a drastic measure. 

The DIA has issued a statement that clearly positions them in direct opposition to the idea of a sell off...  "There is no reason to value the collection as the Attorney General has made it clear that the art is held in charitable trust and cannot be sold as part of a bankruptcy proceeding. We applaud the Emergency Managers focus on rebuilding the city, but would point out that he undercuts that core goal by jeopardizing Detroit's most important cultural institution." They go on to say, "any forced sale of art would precipitate the rapid demise of the DIA. The DIA has long been doing business without city of Detroit operating support; any move that compromises its financial stability will endanger the museum and further challenge the City's future."

Besides the obvious cultural ramifications of losing the collection, there are economic fall-outs that could have a devastating effect for the future of Detroit. Art blogger Sharon Butler of Two Coats of Paint, recently interviewed economics professor Stephen Sheppard from Williams College, who co-authored a paper published in Creative Communities:Art Works in Economic Development. Released in 2013, the book consists of a series of papers on economic development as it relates to the arts and its effect on the financial well being of communities. Sheppard says, "The DIA has a budget of about $57 million and brings in about 400,00 visitors per year. We'll be very conservative and assume that only 35% of the visitors come from outside Wayne County (where Detroit is) and only give them credit for the local spending of outside visitors. Putting those figures into our web application produces an estimate that the DIA contributes $103,631,976 each year to the local economy, and directly or or indirectly supports 877 jobs in the city."

Also, what can not be underestimated in terms of a Museums collection, is the cultural worth that is represented in valuable works of art. Permanent collections not only are important to the public at large but they provide an "inspirational lineage" that consistently fuels creative growth within artistic communities all over the world.

What follows are a few pieces from the museums collection that inspire, motivate and expand my growth as an artist and a person.

Robert Frank, Drive In Movie, Detroit, 1955

Diego Rivera, Detroit Industry Mural, 1932-33

Hughie Lee-Smith, The Piper, 1953

Clinton Snider, Willis, 2004

The Navin Field Grounds Crew

The Navin Field Grounds Crew is a grass-roots group of dedicated baseball fans, who have painstakingly restored and maintained the historic grounds of what was once home to the Detroit Tigers. Since 2010, this group of Tiger Stadium faithful have brought the grounds back from the dead by pulling weeds, picking up trash, and revitalizing the once dilapidated infield. Since its revival, there has been a steady trickle of people who park their cars and make their way through the gates.

 Although the land at the corner of Michigan and Trumbull is legally owned by the city of Detroit, the group has ignored any claims of ownership. Sensing the unpopular decision to tear down the historic ballpark, the city (and police) have turned a blind eye to curiosity seekers. Since its revival, it has become a popular tourist destination for baseball enthusiasts wanting to stand on the hallowed grounds where Ty Cobb, Al Kaline, and local hero Willie Horton once played the game.

The day I was there, Michael Rys, a former Detroiter who now lives in Toledo, was standing on the mound pitching to his son Nicolas, as his wife and daughter looked on.  Not to be lost on the moment was the fact that Michael's son was using a wood bat.  I'm guessing this might have something to do with his dad's passion and respect for the game of baseball. Either way, a wood bat in the hands of a young boy is a rare sight in the present day.

This scenario is played out over and over again by eager parents wanting to share faded memories of baseball with children born too late to grasp the importance of this landmark piece of property. This weekend, former Detroit Tiger John Wockenfuss made his way onto the field for a pick-up game with a group of Tiger Stadium faithful. How cool is that? A good sign for anyone hoping to keep a good thing going.

As a city, Detroit has had a weak track-record in so far as the repurposing of its derelict spaces.  Let's hope they take a cue from the Navin Field Grounds Crew, and keep the corner alive with the sweet sound of a wood bat making contact with a baseball as it makes its way towards home plate.