A
rooftop, Manhattan
At one in the morning
And you said something
That I've never forgotten
-PJ Harvey, "You Said Something"
In
1999, I tended bar at an upscale restaurant on Manhattan's Upper West Side. I
worked for an impeccably dressed, unintentional philosopher named Bill. He
resembled a "pre-facelift" Al Pacino. He said cool things. He said
things cool. Bill was a real New Yorker, born and raised on the island of
Manhattan.
But
one day he revealed something almost unbelievable:
I've
been off this island two times in my life, for a total of 48 hours."
This
didn't make a bit of sense to me. Bill was at least 50 years old.
Manhattan is small and narrow -- you can walk its width in an afternoon.
There is so much more!
"Everything
I want I can walk to," he said.
This
part stuck with me.
Ten
Years After
Yesterday,
I was accidentally listening to BBC Radio. The reporter described how Russia
has begun laying claim to vast Arctic oil reserves that have become accessible
now that global warming has melted sea ice. This is why I don't listen to BBC
Radio. Not only have we burned enough fossil fuel over the past several decades
to tear a hole in the sky, but in doing so, we gain access to more oil and
natural gas. The human race is a junkie refinancing the mortgage on a burning
house.
This
made me think of Bill. Not because he was an elegant heroin addict (he
was), but because I realized something: I no longer cared about international
affairs. In fact, I didn't care about much outside a one-kilometer radius from
Wealthy Theatre. I've become hyperlocal. I have seen the light of the City of
Grand Rapids' amazing Master Plan: live, work and recreate in the city you call
home.
My
partner listens to National Public Radio like she's getting paid to. It's on in
every room. It's her version of leaving the toilet seat up. I systematically
stop the podcast and put on Charles The Osprey, or A.B. & Coconut Brown.
I'm
no longer interested in Russians.
I'm
no longer interested in driving to Barnes & Noble for something I could
find at Literary Life. No longer interested in furnishing my home with the same
lighting fixtures from the same aisle at Home Depot. No longer interested in
franchised cool: hipsters with mustaches (unique like all their friends) in
some manufactured homage to Brandon Flowers. I want original,
independent. Make something. I'll buy it. Build an entertainment center
out of anything other than pressboard. Make it out of bones and bananas, I
don't care, just make it interesting.
We
have to be smarter than the junkie refinancing the burning house -- we have to
move beyond disposable consumerism. The good news is that sustainability tastes
better. If you live near Wealthy Street, you've got half a dozen superlative
options for coffee, within walking distance. Your dollar is more important to
the people who own Sparrows or Rowsters, than to the pre-fab
"baristas" at the Woodland Mall Starbucks. And it's better for you to
spend your dollar closer to home, because local stores are generally more
invested in the community. The dollars you spend there go directly to the
ownership and staff, not to a cadre of VPs and CEOs you'll never meet -- people
to whom you are nothing but a trending line of data in another market analysis.
I
was living in the East Village (NYC) when the K-Mart went in, near Union
Square. It was reviled, a Trojan horse of disposable consumerism in a defiantly
independent neighborhood. Fortunately, Uptown (Grand Rapids) is inherently unappealing
to big-box franchises; we don't have an expressway running through Eastown.
There will never be a Wal-Mart on Lake Drive. Our infrastructure is naturally
better for small, independently owned businesses. We are blessed for the factors
that limit us, this way, just as Wealthy Theatre is "limited" by its
400 seats making it ideal for Michigan performers playing to Michigan
audiences.
Where
these inherent "limiters" do not exist -- for instance, Downtown --
it becomes a question of curating. The new bar/venue "Pyramid Scheme" is a
brilliant addition. It'll be run by people who give back to the community.
Local bands will have a great, new option for live performance. Michigan beers
will be sold. Sustainability.
Artprize
is another fine example of curating: it attracts international artists to our
city in a framework that celebrates Grand Rapids. It is a funnel of light. It
benefits locally owned businesses, and motivates people far and wide to experience
and examine original beauty.
If
you took a highway to get to ArtPrize, you probably saw billboards featuring
McDonald's latest ad campaign. These provide a valuable
"compare/contrast" opportunity prior to seeing art Downtown. One
billboard features human lips contorted to resemble a heart, symbolizing love
for a quarter pound of microwaved, colorless ground beef. The imagery doesn't
require you to interpret, it's all made very plain, nothing left to the
imagination -- sort of like pornography.
These
billboards display the low art of disposable consumerism. Whenever I'm
returning to Grand Rapids, I count these as markers back to what Bill described
as the island he never wanted to leave. I turn up the Paucity CD and drive a
little faster, hastening my way back to the brick pavers on Wealthy Street.
Where
everything I want I can walk to.
Erin Wilson
posts essays and media at thevirtualimage.com. Wilson is board president of
arts-advocacy organization ArtPeers, and director of Wealthy Theatre. Wilson
took part in ArtPrize 2009 and through ArtPeers has been involved with
Art.Downtown and ACTIVESITE. He moved to Grand Rapids from Williamsburg,
Brooklyn, where he met his partner, Amy, who has co-founded groundbreaking Grand
Rapids modern dance collaborative Dance In The Annex (DITA).
Photos:
Erin Wilson Photograph Courtesy of Terry Johnston
Wealthy Street