Thursday, April 14, 2011

Moving to the D.

If you had told me two years ago when I moved to Toledo I would be relocating--by choice--to Detroit, I would have laughed in your face. My intention was to come here simply for grad school; it was to be a life transition and nothing more.

Granted, I have no plans to stay in Toledo. There are some nice things about it, but there simply isn't enough left in this once-grand town to keep me engaged. I had hoped to move back to the west coast (had my eye on going back to Seattle, or maybe the Bay area) after grad school, but quite honestly, I don't have the funds for that. As well, I am truly tired of making the "once-every-few-years" giant move across the U.S., as I've been doing for nearly a decade, now. And finally, I've gotten somewhat accustomed to being on this side of the nation, despite how much I pine for L.A. and Seattle every day. I miss the ocean and the damn near luxury of west coast living, but seasons also appeal to me. I didn't realize how much I had missed that.

This part of America is definitely midwestern, but it is also punctuated by the culture of southern folks who migrated in the early-mid 20th century for blue-collar work, so it feels a bit familiar. The longer I've been here, it seems closer to my own experience than anywhere else I've lived. And although having been exposed to black culture once I moved west, the impression I get here among African-Americans here is that their culture is even more authentic, honest, raw. I like that. It reminds me of my own formative experience, what some refer to as "white trash" or "hill people." Those terms have very negative connotations, and to some degree we Appalachians have earned it. But even though everything about our culture is not always pleasant, one thing is for sure--we are very, very real and to the bone. And I see that among all of the people here--not just blacks. Sometimes the vibe in this part of the world gets a bit too passionate--just like now, when I hear people fighting in my apartment building parking lot, but that's part of the trade-off of being among people who are raw. With great poverty surrounding us and the certainty of bad times ahead, people can get pretty edgy; crazy--and they have no qualms about showing it. That quality of authenticity is something I have always understood, so I tend to value it in others. Sometimes it makes things more difficult because such an approach to life can be overwhelming, intimidating, threatening or simply irritating, but hey--at least you know always know where you are with folks.

Over the last couple of years, I drove into Ann Arbor a few times and really liked it; it seems like the "Boulder of Michigan" to me. I thought it was lovely, but it just didn't seem like somewhere I'd want to consider settling for awhile. But in January I drove up to Detroit and the minute I hit town it was like I'd been there before. It has the dirty/industrial feel of Pittsburgh or Cincinnati, the strip mall/gritty, graffiti-tagged sadness of North Hollywood, and the downtown feel of Cleveland meets Glasgow, Scotland. And of course, the numerous examples of abandonment are visceral. One of the first things I saw when I drove into the city was the old, beaten/shot-up beauty of a once-magnificent train station. Instantly, I was in love.

Everyone who knows me well knows I'm a melancholic. I find beauty in ruin. Hope in devastation. Thus, I couldn't help it; once I was inside Detroit's environs, I instantly wanted to help her. I know people have been attempting to do this since the 60s, and not a lot has changed. I'm not likely to make any tangible difference. But I would like to try.

For the first time in my life I want to get involved in community revitalization efforts instead of continuing to wallow in my own self-pity and existential hand-wringing. There are a lot of people interested in trying to make Detroit a city of note again, and I would like to contribute however I can. And, unlike Toledo (which is the D's little sister, in so many ways), there are many more arts outlets for me to explore--theatre, visual art, dance--and damn, have I missed nourishing that part of myself. Now there are multiple opportunities, not just one or two.

I've got a long-time pal who lives in New York City, and he's convinced I should move there (NYC). He has me pretty convinced he's right. I used to tell myself I'd be too old, but what's too old? Too old to what? I can be 45 and unsuccessful in NYC, or I can be 45 and unsuccessful in Iowa. At least I could enjoy a more vibrant world on the east coast. However, I can't quite move there yet. I don't have the money, and I believe a transition is important for me. I need to get away from school for awhile (I'm pretty burned out, to be honest), do some re-structuring and (hopefully) a little money-saving. What I'm most hoping for is even more growth and discoveries along the way, and I think moving an hour north will kick-start those into motion...

If any of my readers have Detroit connections--contacts, jobs, arts opportunities, arts jobs opportunities--let me know. I have mad skills in many areas, from executive admin to teaching to pet sitting to editing, and now I'll have a decent education to back it up. Any help/advice you care to share will be welcomed and appreciated.

For once in my life, I've finally decided to stop fretting over misplaced or even lost dreams and am willing to cast the net wide to see what I pull up. And I have to say, I'm damned excited about it.

Copyright 2011, Alexandra Scarborough. All rights reserved.

3 comments:

Steven said...

As someone that used to run the streets of Ann Arbor as a kid, I still miss that place now that I am here in the south. I like the fact that 90 is a HOT summer day, I miss the big lakes where you can cool off, and while I would easily get lost in Ann Arbor now, I have a good enough map in my head and am not afraid of being lost that I could move around until I found something I recognized and know where I was and go back to wandering.

As for the run down, beaten up, abandoned buildings, I find they look spectacular when photographed with one of my old cameras on some b/w film. My films of choice are made by Efke which uses a b/w formula that hasn't change since the 1940s and has a very wide midtone range and gives a very old feel to the photos because of how the film is made.

Alexandra Scarborough (Sasha) said...

Hey Steven! So nice to hear from you! I didn't realize you were from AA. If you ever come back to visit, you'll have to let me know & I'll meet you for lunch at one of your old haunts.

I wish I had a film camera to shoot all of the urban blight in Detroit. Perhaps soon! There is so much to photograph there...it has a certain haunting beauty.

Steven said...

I grew up in A2 on the "old west side" and still have family up there. As for an old film camera, go poking around thrift shops and yard sales and some "antique" stores, and you will probably fnd one...or more than one. If you find one check to make sure the shutter works and if it has a variable aperture that it works. I've got a small collection of older, but decent working condition cameras that I shoot with, and the results can be seen in my flickr stream. If you are in and around Ann Arbor, look for some old Argus cameras, they were made there in Ann Arbor and they have models that will take 35mm film, but you may have to either find a light meter to get proper exposure of use the Sunny 16 rule and try and guess it. And if you find a box camera and don't see a lens on the outside, don't fret, it likely isn't broken, many of the early ones had the lens inside btween teh shutter and the film.