A while ago I worked in the Locations department of VH1’s Hip Hop Honors. Our job was basically to coordinate the coming and going of various trucks and tour buses so that traffic continued to flow on the street and all our vehicles had places to park and/or unload. This meant that I was outside, sitting on 35th street in New York City for 10 days straight.
As I sat stagnantly and waited for trucks to come or go, the world around me was constantly buzzing. I began to really feel like a part of the city. I began to see the same people coming and going every day, walking to and from work in their own little world. Occasionally, someone would stop and ask what was going on and why we had half the street coned off. Local vendors would stop to chat, some in a vain attempt to befriend us in hopes that we would allow them to park in our section of the street.
Over time, I began to love the constant hum of the passing traffic and almost started longing for that unique brand of New York street stench.
… almost
I felt like a part of the neighorhood, like I was sitting on the stoop with my friends, chatting with my neighbors. For me, New York became a living, breathing being. It had soul, it had character, it was alive. I could see it, I could feel it, I became a part of it.
I was 35th street.
Few cities actually achieve this. I have lived all over the US and have only experienced this in small instances in certain cities before this show. It happens most often while I’m listening to music. I felt it once while listening to Dropkick Murphys in Boston. I felt it again while listening to Tupac in Los Angeles. As cliché as it is, I feel it every time I drive down the Las Vegas strip listening to Frank Sinatra.
Certain cities have it, while others don’t, but I’m not sure what “it” is. I want to call it character, but there’s more to it than just that. What is it about these cities that spawns so many great artists and artistic movements. What about Seattle spawned the grunge movement? Why did gangster rap explode in Los Angeles? Why is East Bay punk different from East Coast punk?
I see it often in local restaurants and shops. They have a certain flare. You can taste it in the food; you can see it in the people. I can’t explain it, but the second I enter these cities I can tell whether they’ve got it or not. Some cities just don’t have it. I’ve decided I will never settle down in one of those cities. I’ve lived in a few of those places before. They seemed to suck the life out of me like some soulless monster trying to fill a deep void.
I’m not sure what the point of this little post is; I have no theories, just thoughts. Maybe it comes with age. Maybe some cities are just too young. I’ve never lived there, only visited, but Austin seems like a city that will have it in force some day. They’ve definitely got at least a part of it. Maybe it comes with art. Maybe a city needs a solid community of artists to truly attain it.
I think that might be it. I think it has to come through the art in the community. If the art is substantial or of any merit, the community it came from will most likely gain the same merit. The only common thing I see in those cities I lived in that just didn’t have it, was a lack of a good art scene. They had very little good music, few galleries, and no cinema worth anything. They did not support their local artists and I’m sure the artists just left, before the city sapped them of any character they may have had. I know artists in some of these cities, and they complain about that very thing almost daily.
This may be some sort of microcosm for any society. This may be the very thing that every society must have in order to survive. Maybe society needs art. Maybe art is what gives a society its life; its soul. I’m sorry to go religious on you, but I’ve heard it said that art is man’s attempt at recreating the divine. Maybe without this connection with the divine, society as a whole will fail.
Maybe I stayed up too late.
Tags: art, Articles, artists, big-cities, film, food, hip-hop-honors, music, new-york-city, people, society, stoop, trucks
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This week I’ve decided to make a shout out to all my unofficial sponsors. These are the products that make my life livable. These are the products that have stood by me through thick and thin. These are the products that keep me company on those cold, wintry nights. These are the products that like me for who I am, no questions asked. These are the products that I stand behind even though no one will ever even know what it is exactly that I am standing behind. These are the products that made me start just about every sentence in this paragraph with the phrase, “these are the products.” These are the products that I represent.
1. Crest Toothpaste – I have been a Crest kid since the day I grew my first tooth. I remember it well. I called it “Fang,” which was kind of ironic considering it was an incisor. I was obviously a smart kid, far more advanced than the schooling to which I was subjected, for I understood this irony and laughed heartily as confused adults constantly wondered why I was talking incessantly with an incisor named “Fang.”
Crest brought out the best in Fang and showed me a good time while doing so. Crest was the first to develop the sparkle seen in toothpastes across the shelves today and in doing so, they added a certain sparkle to my life that I will never forget. I’ve tried Colgate; I’ve tried Mentadent; and I’ve even tried Aquafresh, but I always come back to Crest. I am a Crest Kid for life and I will out sparkle anyone who challenges me. I don’t even know what that means.
2. Ford – I was raised from Day 1 to be a Ford man. As I reached puberty, my dad taught me all about the birds, the bees, and Ford trucks. I was taught that Ford was superior to every other brand of truck out there and will go to the grave with this belief. Ford will out battle any ogre and slay any dragon it faces. It has the face of a dozen demons and the heart of a hundred hungry hippos. A hippo is nothing to fear you say? I say go piss off my friend Harry the Hippo and live to tell about it. Charging Rhinos got nothing on Harry, even with their credit cards.
Sure, most of the cars my parents own are Toyotas these days, but their Ford Econoline Van is still alive and kicking after at least 13 years. Sure, my first car was a Toyota, but the car I learned to drive in was a Ford Escort with manual transmission. I loved that car. It is now my baby sister’s first car. Treat it well, Crystal. Treat it well.
I have driven many a Dodge truck. They just feel rickety to me. I have driven many a Chevy. I used to drive KBYU’s big GMC 4×4 up the mountains west of Salt Lake to reach the Transmitters so my boss could do some maintenance. It just didn’t feel right. Toyota makes trucks? Pshhh, so does Tonka. The Ford F-150 will always be my truck, and I will always be a Ford man. Just ask the Falcon (Yes, I realize the Falcon is a Lincoln, but Lincoln is part of Ford and if you put the Falcon up against any Cadillac of the same year and I will guarantee a sound beating wholeheartedly sponsored by the Falcon).
3. Vans – I wore the original Vans low top sneaker back before it was ever cool to do so (Yes, you can touch me. But only in 2 second increments. I am far too cool to allow any human to feel of my splendor for any longer than 2 seconds. It’s in my contract). I still remember that shoe. Black canvas on top of white rubber and a light brown sole all laced up in white, it was a shoe that spat in the collective face of the Nike Air Jordan and the Reebok Pump. I wore it proudly through the halls of my Junior High and laughed as my peers stood in awe of this bold statement of simplicity.
Over the years, I’ve tried many other shoes. I went on an Airwalk kick for a long time, I now have a pair of Pumas and a pair of Umbros (thanks, Scott), but I always come back to the Vans. To this day, I have worn no other shoe that was anywhere near as comfortable as that first pair of Vans low tops. Except maybe my Old Man Slippers, but come on, who doesn’t like a good pair of Old Man Slippers? They’re not even shoes. They’re slippers, and slipping them on every morning is like slipping on my own little puffs of cloud. So here’s to you, Old Man Slippers, you were worth every bit of the $7.50 I paid for you 2 years ago at Wal Mart. And here’s to you Vans… Hooray.
Tags: Articles, cars, crest, ford, shoes, sponsors, toothpaste, trucks, vans
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