The Setting:
"Artists are here to disturb the peace." -James Baldwin
The taxi driver was more than confused with me as I rode in her backseat a few weeks ago. After an angry response when she realized I needed to load a bunch of stuff into her trunk, she became even more irritated when I told here where I was going. She looked at me with a deep sense of skepticism. What were those big plastic covered mounds I’d loaded into her car and why did I need to go to the Bayview?
“I never go to this side of town,” she said. “People put me though too many changes over here. It’s not worth it.”
I knew the “changes” she spoke of were indeed many – people robbing cab drivers, jumping out of cabs without paying, etc.
She relaxed a bit after my mom explained what we were doing.
“Sculpture huh? What does it look like?” she asked.
I reached into my backpack and handed her a postcard from my backpack.
“Holy Sh*t!”, she exclaimed. ‘That’s in my trunk?”
Then the questioning began about how I create the work and the time involved.
“You are
really talented,” the cab driver said. “ So why are you taking your work over
there? It’s a pretty limited audience don’t you think? I mean, you should show your work in a special place like a museum or someplace like The Art Institute.” She paused as if she’d stuck her foot in her mouth. I knew what she was saying even though she didn’t complete her thought. Rather than say what was on my mind I just responded with the facts about it being a revitalization project and how that meant the work would be displayed in economically challenged areas.
And yet my reasons for wanting to show my work there were different.
I chose the Bayview for my installation because my first thought was, “Why not add some beauty to this area?” It is often the lost neighborhood, the overlooked area of the city with regard to so many things – essential services like transportation and grocery stores, education, funding for business development, etc. Having grown up in Visitation Valley and spent my earlier years of life in the Bayview, I know firsthand that this area of San Francisco is overlooked often only making the news when negative press is involved.
As we drove though the neighborhood and I saw that some things had changed and some had not. The biggest change was the T train, a metro line that ran all the way down Third Street. Gone were the days of the # 15 Third bus, a line that ran from one end of the city to the next. The Coca Cola factory was gone, replaced by loft like apartments that were in the midst of construction. No more Beeps Burgers. I remembered old businesses from my childhood, which now stood as vacant storefronts. Espositos was a grocery store we frequented when I was a child. It was owned by an Asian man and it was a store relied upon by many because we did not have a mainstream grocery in the area. I remembered a corner we drove past which was once an empty lot where once they started construction on it, gold was found. I remember visiting a friend and hearing all of the stories about neighborhood people digging in the dirt with pie pans and metal spoons searching for treasure. I remember how excited we were about it since we were in elementary school and into reading stories about pirates and hidden treasure. We even asked our parents if we could go searching and of course they said no! This corner is now home to the golden arches as the smell of McDonalds fries fills the air. I saw the library on Third and Revere which has a different name than it did back when I was in 6th grade going there to study with my friend April who lived just down the street. The main businesses that remained from my past were funeral homes.
As I rode in the back of the cab I saw more crackheads than I'd seen in a long time. We passed clusters of men hanging on street corners. I watched a drugged out woman dancing while walking up the street... No music was playing but whatever beat she heard must have been pretty good because she was smiling and dancing hard. That is until she got distracted and suddenly stood looking up at the sky for a good minute or so. There were people smoking weed on the sidewalk. I saw more than one old Oldsmobile with 24 inch wire rims. A liquor store was open on one corner and a funeral home on the other. I saw working people and women with children getting on and off the T train. A guy in a colorful knit cap got off the train toting a cart, selling incense. I watched as women with laundry in baskets walked down the block. I witnessed a loud talking woman screaming at her man while holding her baby on her hip.
When I got out of the taxi the driver wished me luck and gave me this look as if I was the most foolish ridiculous person ever because of my decision to display my work in this neighborhood.
I was left pondering the question - “Who deserves art? Is art only for people in a certain economic bracket? Does class level dictate who deserves to be exposed to art? Is it a matter of education and stature? What makes these people any less deserving than anyone else?
Art crosses boundaries, it unites, and it can be loved by people of all ages regardless of race, color or creed. Art can move you beyond your circumstances. It can inspire, and offer hope. Moreover, art can shake things up and cause people to view the world in a different light.
Looks like my journey to do that had already began from the moment I set foot into that taxicab.
