Reconnecting With Oakland.

Two weeks ago I was asked to come out and meet with CG and the interns that were helping him put together the latest Unicorn Mountain publication, to be titled Black Forest. I know I've mentioned this project before, but for those who don't remember- my work will be included in this collection of comics and quasi-comic art. I've been looking forward to this since early last year, when I learned that my offer of participation was accepted. It features stuff from some pretty heavy hitters in both the art-comix and pop surrealist worlds. The plan was to produce a number of mock-ups to shop around SPX (Small Press Expo) in Bethesda Maryland this weekend. It's an exciting time in this volume's development.

Anyway, there will be more details about the forthcoming book in the future. But the point is that I found myself at a little coffeeshop in Oakland, a neighborhood where I spent many years in classrooms getting various degrees. Amusingly enough, the very cafe we were gathered at was started years ago by an old friend of mine that I don't see very often anymore, along with his partner, whose ex-paramour I am currently close friends with. Her work is all over the joint. Right off the bat, I felt an odd disjunction between the days of my youth and my gradual approach toward "middle age". I was a little bit distracted as I was brought up-to-date with the progress of Black Forest.

After awhile we had covered everything that required my input, and I decided I'd take a walk around the "neighborhood" while CG finished the meeting. I walked down Forbes Avenue and saw the projection on the outside of the Carnegie Museum. It's a special component of the International, a wide survey of contemporary international art. It's held every few years, has a prestigious reputation, and I still haven't seen it. I guess I take it for granted, as it's up until January. I continued through a new "parklet" built by the University of Pittsburgh, that aims for an "old-timey feel" with benches, a big tented sitting area, quaint food stands hawking the usual junky fare, and a carousel.

I passed through a new student housing complex, encountering about thirty kids playing foursquare outside of an academic building. The type of construction that Pitt has been focused on seems to be designed in such a way so as to lend feelings of distance and insulation from the rest of the city. Instead of capitalizing on the unique urban and historical culture of Oakland, the University appears to be after some type of unfortunate homogenization, the likes of which has been plaguing city planning for decades now. Instead of rejoicing in the integrated urban setting, they are are trying to bring the suburbs to the inner city. While the business district used to be independent and idiosyncratic, there is no longer much that you can't find in a strip mall on any typical "miracle mile".

Still I have to admit enjoying my walk. South Oakland still retains much of the ambience it had when I first came to Pitt twenty years ago. It is certainly not as seedy or seemingly dangerous as back then, but much of the architecture has survived the recent gentrification of Central Oakland. The students milling about look more wholesome than we did, but I can't tell whether that's due to a generational or demographic shift. I can report feeling deep pangs of nostalgia for the place that still exists in my head. Whenever I passed the "O", the Towers, the Cathedral of Learning, Hemingway's, or a rental property that a friend once lived in, I was assaulted with a flood of memory and idealized sentiment. Somehow I never anticipated this experience when I was "young".

Lifestyle Matters.*

I had a strange realization this morning as I was sitting at my desk and sipping a "quad, nonfat mocha, with light ice and no whipped" from the predatory corporate retail "coffeehouse" whose product I have become sadly addicted to. Against a fair amount of conscious effort, I have adopted a consumer "lifestyle" as part of my identity. This insight came on as I was reading a book of essays by a whiny liberal author who often appears as a commentator on NPR. The truth is that this awareness is potentially accessible during most of my waking hours. At the same time it is also far from profound- anyone in America that doesn't know that such a dynamic is at work is either completely oblivious, or hopelessly naive.

How did all of this occur to me? The author of the book I was reading mentioned self-consciously sipping on a latte. He was obviously aware of the associations commonly made with this libation. For those of you who voted for Bush in both 2000 and 2004, a "latte" is a coffee drink made with... um, coffee... and milk(!). More specifically it is made with shots of espresso- which is basically strong coffee. Now you know the truth. If you hang out with someone who drinks strong coffee with milk, then he/she is probably a "liberal"- which means that he/she hates family values, loves faggots, and wants to kill as many babies as possible. All of this especially applies if they call this concoction by a foreign name (usually chosen from a European country that hasn't won a war in centuries).

I suppose that most people can't be bothered with this type of self-realization. Yet they no doubt recognize the cues in their fellow citizens. If they didn't, how else would they be able to determine who belonged in their neighborhood, or church, or social club? They can't very well be expected to wait out in the parking lot to see what type of automobile each drives. Perhaps we can get the media to get behind a new promotion- key chain jewelry! That way you wouldn't have to subtly place your car keys in a conspicuous place on the table the next time you decide to buy a Jellybean Mojito for that attractive stranger. He/she could just look at your bling, and immediately recognize a fellow Lexus driver.

Presumably I'm not the only one who is mortified by the ubiquitous "lifestyle" categorization of modern global capitalism. Otherwise there wouldn't be any clothing without obnoxious brand advertising prominently displayed across its surface. And it would be impossible to buy flavored water in a plain container (oh right, never mind about that one). But I am certain that I'm part of a very small minority. If this were not the case, then the malls would disappear. Plus Hollywood might make something other than the next extended commercial. It doesn't seem that we are in any danger of these things happening. In fact this is the type of monoculture our society seems to be happily trying to push on the rest of the world. It's become our principal export (besides weapons, of course).

Perhaps you don't even understand why I'm complaining about this. Am I somehow against individuality? Isn't one's "lifestyle" what truly distinguishes them from the masses? Read that again and answer the question without irony. It's becoming more difficult to actually find an American that doesn't use "lifestyle" to define themselves. It's too convenient an option. Who has the time and energy to attempt an alternative. Increasingly all criticism of the paradigm vanishes. Still the question remains- what about personality as a motivating force? What about the freak that dares to be different in his/her own head, rather than just on the surface of their body. Where's their marketing demographic? Do they exist if they don't have one? This is the true 21st Century existential threat.


* Yes... I realize that this is an obvious rant, and likely completely gratuitous for anyone reading this blog, but I just happened to be truly sickened today by the fact that "freedom" is increasingly reduced to consumer choice here in the United States.

Vanishing Roadside Culture.

Inevitably when June comes around my mind starts to wander to the idea of the open road. Granted this concept is a bit naive in today's age, with the cookie-cutter homogeneous sprawl that threatens to engulf our nation. Maybe that's just the bias of a lifelong resident of the US Northeast. In theory I believe that something as free as the "open road" does exist... say, somewhere in Montana. Either way, compared to my workaday existence, a day-trip down to West Virginia seems like a little slice of heaven. So now I've started to think about how I might make something like that happen this summer. Certainly I have more obstacles to that type of carefree travel nowadays, but I have faith that I can make it work somehow.

Even if I am still contained to a 9-5 existence, I can get on the internet and daydream. One of the sites I like the best for this purpose is roadsideamerica.com. It is a vast collection of offbeat travel destinations categorized by state. It documents a culture that has largely vanished in our modern age. There was a time in our nation's history when people anxiously interrupted long car rides for the most minor of attractions. That's why someone thought it would be a good idea to exhibit the world's largest frying pan (Wilmington, DE), and the large kettle once used to boil the flesh off of "Mad Anthony" Wayne's bones (Erie, PA). Such oddities lured weary drivers from the claustrophobia of their family-filled automobiles.

Now folks are generally in too much of a hurry to get wherever it is that they are going. Leisurely travel seems ever increasingly to be a thing of the past. The country's highway system is based upon convenience and simplicity. You can go hundreds of miles without encountering a stoplight. Corporate fast food joints now have a monopoly, with the institutional glare of service centers offering a brief respite to the harried wayfarer. Good luck soaking up some of the local color in between your home and your ultimate target. It all looks and smells the same. Occasionally you may catch a glimpse of something interesting advertised on a road sign, but how often do you actually exit the highway to check it out?

Still some of this vanishing culture exists on the back roads and the alternate routes. I remember my family stopping at Roadside America (no relation to the aforementioned site) off of Interstate 78, near Shartlesville, PA. This is a "miniature village" model train setup complete with tunnels, mountains, bridges, farms, town squares, a mountain trolley, a grist mill, woods, and even a little zoo. Incredibly this vast tableau was largely the work of one Pennsylvania Dutch man- Laurence Gieringer. We all marveled at the lovingly crafted scenes, and the old school animations that visitors could trigger with the push-buttons along the periphery. Fortunately for all of us, the place still functions through the maintenance of Gieringer's offspring.

The magic of this traditional stop inspired what has become for me a lifelong love for such oddball attractions. These little petting zoos, family-run theme parks, cave tours, and idiosyncratic one-room museums seem like the last remaining vestiges of authentic mid-Twentieth century Americana. They are disappearing quickly with the growing dominance of our corporate monoculture. Thank god for the small group of obsessive weirdos that invest their time and money, often rehabbing and preserving the essential qualities of these treasures. If not for their efforts, freaks like me couldn't dream of experiencing the unique pleasures of stuff like the Secret Caverns (Cobblesville, NY) God's Garden (McCarthur, OH), or the One and Only Presidential Museum (Williamsfield, OH).

Chicago: Postscript.

I'm now safely back in the 'Burgh, after spending the bulk of the day driving through Ohio and Indiana. I would have made extraordinary time had a tractor trailer not flipped over a guard rail on the Indiana turnpike. I spent an hour creeping along at a snail's pace. My reaction to reaching the rolling hills of Eastern Ohio was notably strong. I felt relieved, and I felt at home. It's easy to overlook the effect topography has on one's psyche. If I've learned nothing else during the trips I've taken this summer, at least I've figured out that a flat terrain simply unsettles me. This characteristic is something that New York City and Chicago share- they are unending cityscapes with a continuous progression of neighborhoods that blend into one another. I don't care if they are on a grid. I find it difficult to process. And with the consumer homogenization rampant in our society now seemingly affecting our large cities, this phenomena is exaggerated. I could be anywhere in the city... in any city. It's the same brand of urban gentrification bleeding into formerly struggling neighborhoods. The areas have no obvious integrity or authentic character. They are virtually identical to an untrained eye.

When I start to get anxious about a similar thing happening in Pittsburgh, I take heart in the many topographic obstacles that break up the landscape of hometown. Neighborhoods retain their specific flavor, if only because they are bordered by mountains or rivers. In each little place, there are a host of unique factors developers have to consider. It's going to be difficult for them to apply the cookie-cutter approach that plagues this nation. Maybe I am merely deluding myself, but I find it heartening. Pittsburgh has been the best-kept "secret" of the Eastern United States for over twenty years. Despite the annual "optimistic" predictions of urban planners, it looks like it's going to remain this way for a bit. Some might bemoan the fact that huge influxes of yuppified suburbanites have not been forthcoming. I think we should be grateful for what we have. If you can find an even half-decent job in this city, then you have it made.

Having said that, Chicago does benefit from a certain "midwestern" attitude. The city has a more human vibe. The pace is notably slower than on the East Coast. People are MUCH more accessible. Ask a stranger for directions, and not only do they NOT ignore you... but they actually stop and offer useful information, and take the time to make sure they have helped you. Driving is also more laid back. I wasn't constantly besieged by honking horns, and hyper-aggressive action sequence maneuvers. I wasn't constantly afraid that an impatiently irate native would plow into the side of my car. Even pedestrians tend to respect the dangers cars can present, and vice versa. Even stranger- Chicago has actual bike lanes. Now that's impressive.

I was also impressed that the general vibe was one of safety and order. We didn't have to worry about where we parked our cars, nor did I feel the type of edgy energy that I always feel when walking down streets in East Coast metropolises. Perhaps this is the upside of the suburbanization of American inner cities. But I had very little anxiety during the time I spent in Chicago. Only on one occasion did I feel like we were in a place we shouldn't be. Right outside of downtown I spotted a neighborhood I wanted to photograph. It was a terribly depressed project complex that was actually fenced off from its surroundings. I had a palpable sense that the fencing was intended to contain the inhabitants. It looked like it could be a WWII-era ghetto of Eastern Europe. So we drove through the crowded streets on this hot summer day, and I stuck my none-too-discreet camera out of the window. Inexplicably we weren't even verbally threatened- although I have to note that we didn't linger there. Having said all of this, I also feel compelled to point out that we limited our meanderings to downtown and North Chicago. I'm certain that South Chicago would have presented a whole set of challenges. There is certainly a strong element of planned segregation in the Windy City.

In our many conversations about the time he's spent living in Chicago, L. continually returned to an emphasis on the people he chooses to be around. It doesn't matter to him that there are no obvious concentrations of like-minded folk living among each other in specific neighborhoods. His friends are scattered throughout the city. They meet up in the treasures hidden among the sprawling streets of gentrification. His people (many of whom are native midwesterners) are welcoming, generous and interesting. I suppose one can find folks like that in any place. But it's a credit to him and the city that such people are drawn together. I know one thing for sure- the next time someone brands Pittsburgh as a midwestern city (as happens on occasion), I'm going to be pleased rather than offended. That's actually a pretty nice compliment.

Chicago Trip: Arrival.

The drive to Chi-town was carefree, but monotonous. I took Route 80 across both Ohio and Indiana. In both states Rte. 80 is the turnpike, and there's not a whole lot to look at. The OH stretch at least has regular Starbucks joints- so you can get all hyped up on caffeine and watch the cornfields passing by. I played with the radio until it sickened me, and then resorted to the CDs I had brought along. Until I actually hit Chicago, the only "city" I caught a glimpse of was Gary, Indiana. That place looks like a rotten shithole (my apologies to its residents). Other than that it was mostly sky and crumbling farms. At least I moved through it quickly. I didn't hit much traffic until I could see the Chicago skyline, and then I sat for 45 minutes in the throes of rush hour. It was an overcast day, and the pallor of the clouds gave the city an especially industrial look.

My friend L. lives on a pleasantly tree-lined street in the neighborhood of Andersonville. I was surprised to find street parking almost immediately outside his apartment. The place is spacious, with hardwood floors and lots of windows. The rent is quite affordable, considering its proximity to a few vital business districts and the safety of its streets. I got a good impression of the North End of Chicago right away. From what I've seen, it's city living on a very human scale. many of the neighborhoods have retained an authenticity of character. Although it is clear that city planners are pushing for rapid gentrification or the inner city, they seem to be doin a half-assed job of it. Last night L's co-worker gave us the lowdown on Mayor Daley's corrupt approach to governance. With it's old-school Democrat approach to politics, it has a lot in common with Pittsburgh.

After getting settled in last night, L. and I went for grub. We landed at a small bar/eatery in the Bucktown section. "Handlebars" has that hipster-cum-anarchic-bike-culture vibe that would make the clientele of the Quiet Storm (back in the Burgh) quite happy. I was a bit dismayed to open the menu and realize L. had brought me to a vegetarian restaurant. I sat baffled and tried to figure out what I might order. I ended up with black bean tostadas and smoked gouda mac-and-cheese. And you know what? It really wasn't half bad. The rather feeble-looking patrons surrounding us looked happy and natural in their element. If you aren't much of a carnivore, then I can recommend the place without reservation. I do have one disclaimer- You have to dig a bit through the drink menu to find a "real" beer as the place caters to the wheat beer crowd. After we were done there, we went to L.'s workplace and told stories at the bar as the restaurant shut down for the night.

Today L. had to take care of some business downtown, so I walked around for a bit among the tall buildings. I was shocked at the relative absence of hustle-and-bustle. And I was saddened to see a Hard Rock Cafe and Disney-fied Rainforest Restaurant in the center of the city. i guess that sort of thing is inevitable now in the big cities- especially in the wake of the castration of Times Square, NYC. If they are going to offer a de-fanged hyper-commercialized version of nightlife for the whole family, then they might as well come up with something particular to the history of Chicago. I don't understand the people who want to travel to a new place merely to experience a homogenized cartoon of somewher altogether different. Why can't they keep crap like that out in the suburbs, and at least make a suitable mockery of whatever authenticity the specific city truly offers? Wait a second... was the first Hard Rock in Chcago? If so, I take it all back.

Before departing for this trip, I had made a list of museums that I was interested in checking out. So we set off for the Museum of Science and Industry. I had read that they had a display of cross-section cuts of actual human beings (predating the recent Body Works traveling sideshow). That sounded compelling. We should have known better as soon as we pulled into the attached parking garage, and were asked to pay $12 just to keep our car there. They rope people in by enticing kids to badger their parents to see the OMNIMAX movie on dinosaurs (or whatever), and each and every disgruntled father has to shell out this exorbitant parking fee before he even gets to pay the $27 adult admission. When we got inside we saw the huge banners for the CSI (the TV show) spectacle, and the mass of sheeple, and we decided to just at the $12 and get the hell out of there. I swear that every science center in every American city offers the exact same slick-modern-day-tourist-trap diversion. We drove to the National Vietnam Veterans Art Museum instead.

The NVVAM offers three floors of artwork by veterans. They have both permanent collections and temporary exhibits. I have always been drawn to "outsider art", and considering my long-held fascination with the Vietnam War, this was a natural destination. Today they had a "Works on Paper" show, which contained a variety of autobiographical visual pieces by artists across a range of skill levels. The curators give the creators a chance to write something to accompany each piece, and many of them included anecdotes about the terms they served incountry. As one might expect, the totality of the work contains a lot of emotional confusion, violence, pain and loss. But unlike what I'm used to seeing in canonical modern art exhibits, there is an extraordinarily personal depth of feeling that transcends technique.

I've always believed that the the American involvement in Vietnam taught many people lessons about the moral ambiguities and entrenched complexity of war. For awhile it was almost a cliche that the Vietnam War forever changed our nation's psyche. The recent conflict in the Middle East has made me question whether or not anybody still remembers the 1960's and 70's. I was pleased to see that the curators of NVVAM see very strong parallels between what is happening now in Iraq and what happened in Vietnam. They have included several sections in the museum dedicated to the work of Iraqi War veterans. I think it would be great for our current "leaders" to take a tour of the NVAAM. Perhaps our president and VP could gain a little insight into an essential part of our history- a place and time that they avoided because they had more "pressing concerns".


*Note: I apologize for the lack of links in these posts. I'm writing on a MAC laptop, and Blogger.com has a much more limited interface on this system, and thus a lot of the tools I rely on are unavailable.

Listening to the Radio.

It's strange how disconnected I can get from the rest of society during the summer. During my long commutes to and from work I have plenty of time to listen to the radio and keep abreast of the national news stories. But when I have off from work I rarely hear what's happening except through word-of-mouth. I am not in the habit of watching the news on television- aside from the occasional tune-in to the PBS News Hour. I don't even make it a point to visit my favorite political portal sites on the net. And when I take vacations the situation is compounded even further because I am usually more interested in leaving the day-to-day stuff behind. I get focused on whatever agenda I have for my trip.

So making a seven-hour drive home today gave me a rare opportunity to plug back into the grid. I was making my return solo, and I didn't want to mess around with the CDs I had remembered to pack- so I just ended up firing up the radio and using the scan function. Every once in awhile I need to jar my memory and remind myself why I never listen to commercial radio. There are so very few options on the FM dial, especially when you hit the rural areas of Pennsylvania. Of course there are the ubiquitous country stations. I usually have very little patience for that. It's often sappy sentimentality or knee-jerk reactionary ditties about good homespun values. I find it a bit insulting when these folks presume that they represent some core of practical morality that's absent in the rest of the nation. Yeah, right... I know you love the USA. Yeah, right... you face up to life's challenges with a hard-earned wisdom you always ignored when you saw it in your daddy. Blah, blah, blah.

Turn the dial again and you can find the ubiquitous classic rock stations. You get to hear the wacky shock-jock wannabe tell bad jokes while promising to "rock your ride" home from work. It's the Stones, Led Zeppelin, CCR... maybe some Bowie... and the fifty other bands these stations have been playing in the 30+ years since they were actually fresh. Or you'll find the contemporary R+B format, with all the dance tunes that were hot in the big-city clubs three years ago. Perhaps you'll stumble on "Lite Rock" with Elton John, Fleetwood Mac and Dan Fogelberg. God help you if you try listening to "modern rock". I heard three different songs on three different staions that were playing simultaneously and all of them sounded like the same generic emo band. Hey really... I like it for about a song and a half. These options are what makes that scan button so alluring. It's like trying to pan for gold in the Monongahela River. You know there's no treasure there, but it's just so vast a space you might be able to find something of interest or novelty.

Unfortunately you can't get "National Public Radio" everywhere in the nation. But periodically you might stumble on it, especially if you are within an hour of a worthwhile city. Don't get excited- that doesn't give it much coverage. Anyway I did catch snippets of actual news here and there along the way. I was happy to finally hear about the indictments in the Brian Wells murder/bank robbing. I wrote a post about this strange, unsolved crime months ago. Since then I have been anxiously waiting for the details. Yesterday and today brought updates from the prosecutor. It seems that Marjorie Diehl-Armstrong, and a co-conspirator named Kenneth Barnes, have been charged with felonies in the case. I suspected they would lower the boom on Diehl-Armstrong, but I was very surprised that they believe that Wells was actually in on the plan. That's about the extent of new information released to the press, so I'm once again forced to call upon my patience until the entire story is unveiled.

Predictably there was also a lot about the continuing campaign the Bush administration has been perpetually waging against Constitutional law tradition, the American people, and the rest of the nation's "elected representatives". Today it was the "revelation" that the Bush people have instructed former aides not to cooperate with a Congressional investigatory committee. And that's just a hint of the flagrant disregard these criminals have in store for us. Apparently they have told former Bush-lawyer (and failed Supreme Court nominee) Harriet Myers to outright ignore her subpoena to appear in front of Congress.

Of course this whole mess tempts me to leave my radio off forever. But would that make me a "good American"?