Oct 30 2010 |   |  |
The morning came hard. A fine blade of light came through the window between the spaces of blinds that were missing- several pieces having fallen on the floor the night previous. I woke up to the light- yellow and white slivers collecting in a rectangle on my pillow, Kevin snoring softly next to me and the heater hiccuping / murmuring with the other air around us. I was working awhile, writing random bits and sentences down on a page, still wandering through the streets of last night in my mind and in my mind seeing everything as it was shown to me previously. Kevin eventually woke and we walked over to Mitch and Gina's, attempting to siphon a string of their internet to use for posting pictures from last night.
Gina came down the flight of stairs smilingly, waving through the glass and opening up both doors to her house. We stepped in briefly, ready to go on a tour of the neighborhood, the houses, and to see what pieces had already been placed in each place previous to our arrival.
Gina explained that Mitch was down the road with Steve, and that Monica Canilao and Harrison were still asleep, having headed there only a few hours before in the dawn.
We left and met up with Mitch, walking down the road with hands submerged in pockets and a fine array of colors and clouds crowding the sky while the sun shone and rose brilliantly.
Down the way a whisper of noise could be heard, its pathway becoming more clear and its sound gradually getting louder as we approached Mitch and Steve who were going from house to house with a portable electric drill, undoing the screws to the sheets of wood that were boarding up the entrances to the abandoned homes on the block. We waved them down and approached slowly- still half asleep with the night previous and the sun a bright beacon towering over our heads with its light.
We introduced ourselves and said hello, joining Mitch and Steve for a tour of the houses and spaces. We crossed the street to see the house and home where Swoon had worked. Outside on the front façade of the house, the figure of a woman- her face angelic in proportion and a city forming the flesh of her body below with persons and people occupying her thighs and calves. Mitch went up to the wall of wood with a drill and took the screws out, pushing the plank of plywood aside and showing us inside the home.
I stepped up and saw a large gaping hole which took up the majority of the floor. Along the walls were figures and wheatpasted woodcuts of persons. Below, in the basement, a lace-like intricacy of paper pasted along the walls bordering and accenting a mass of more figures- children in pensive states and women and men of all culture staring back at you or at those persons pasted next to them. We walked to the back of the house, the walls in a state of decay from a previous fire and the nature surrounding attempting to take back the house to its former state- vines coming through crevices and windows and the walls near nothing- just small bits of charred wood staring blankly at the floor of burnt linoleum, tile and wood.
We followed Mitch to the back of the house, eventually descending a flight of stairs to the basement- a familiar smell filled the air, one reminding me of my childhood and several summers spent in cellars in Pennsylvania with my father's parents.
We entered a small room through a thin corridor and in the larger room, columns of wood spread themselves upward, reaching the floor above us, holding it in place. All around the room the pieces from Swoon aforementioned blanketed the walls and brick surrounding- bleeding out into the spaces of the floor with lace-like intricacy and her own hand of immediacy.
We talked for awhile, Mitch explaining the space and how it was used previously for Dark Talks and other art events in the neighborhood. We left the basement, reaching the second floor- the sky visible as several sections of the roof were burned out and could be seen through the window in piles in the backyard. We descended a flight of stairs, boarding up the frontispiece of the house with the wood and drilling it back up again. Behind the house, in perfect decay, a line of trees and debris in piles amongst weeds. Footsteps heard outside of ours and behind us: Harrison and Monica Canilao.
We introduced ourselves and in the conversation Mitch explained that this back portion of the Swoon house is where Ben Wolf would be working. We left- walked and wandered throughout each empty house and lot in the neighborhood; each space having its own unique qualities and display of decay and beauty.
After the tour we went back to Mitch and Gina's space, sat down on the porch of the house next to us, discussing a discourse as to what to do for the rest of the day. Mitch explained how his friend Chris Riddell could come over and take us on a tour of abandoned spaces, houses and homes, knowing which ones would be best to scour and collect objects / ephemera from.
We waited a little while, ate a small meal and then met up together with everyone once again, riding in two separate cars- Ben Wolf's truck and Chris Riddell's car.
The drive around the neighborhood opened many more doors as to how the city of Detroit was becoming- people apprehensive and pensive stared off at you. As the car drove by you could feel constantly a set of eyes holding onto you and your image.
We drove around for a little while, coming upon a space that seemed familiar to Chris- a person who was a character in his own right: humorous, jovial and having an air about him where you felt at once a friend and common bond with and within him. People here seem to show themselves completely, and it's refreshing to meet someone as abundant in character as Chris.
We stepped into a garage and through the empty spaces of a fence we were able to break out through a back door which led to a small garden overrun and unkempt like the hair of a feral dog. From there we waded through the weeds and came upon the entrance to a several story house- white paint peeling and clinging to its walls. Inside the house it seemed as if a storm had taken place- fragments of glass, pieces of a partition, walls, dressers and other objects lay strewn about on the floor in disorganized patches and patterns. Paint fell down, occupying the space separating the floor and ceiling; some pieces falling to the floor in a spiral pattern / formation and the more we walked through and trudged past the rooms, the more our noses began to fill with the strange effluvia which surrounded us with odors of old magazines, peeling paint and previous persons who had walked and wandered throughout the space previous to us.
Scouring through the sections of this house and those surrounding brought about a bounty of objects and items which we piled into the main room of each space- old antique lamps, fragments of fabric intricate and ornate in their design, pieces of glass, vases and other items hand blown and several pieces of wood hand-constructed by strangers and gathered by Ben Wolf, Monica Canilao and Harrison for the use of a future sculpture / installation.
I was in a house down the street from the one we had entered initially when I started to hear the screams. A woman in white and black was walking over, her hands empty, but voice charging loud and strong.
Chris came over, a handful of items spilling out of the spaces of his jacket-
"We got to go, we have got to go-"
We walked to the cars calmly. I waved a smile at the woman and she gave me a look as to say, "I'm just trying to protect my neighborhood."
She had a look that lingered past her person.
We left, driving off further and farther into the city- visiting the Heidelberg Project, going to more and more vast spaces of abandonment- warehouses, factories and neighborhoods all crumbling: concrete like liquid in the portions of an abandoned space, metal rusting and writhing, contorted doors and hallways- entire portions of a place having caved in on themselves. People coming by, walking or driving- giving that same look that the lady passed off previously.
I eventually got back home, wandering through the spaces of every face from every stranger that day- staring up at the ceiling and falling asleep to the conversation from Chris and Kevin lingering from the other room, the two of them having returned from a metal show in the city while I stayed home writing and working.
- Jason Jaworski
Detroit, MI - 10/14/2010
Juxtapoz Magazine - Juxtapoz Magazine | Detroit: A Journal - II
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