SUMMER 2011: Fieldtrip to Heidelberg Street, Detroit

July 2011

There is a fascinating discussion that's going on in my class forum following a fieldtrip to Heidelberg Street in Detroit. The discussion represents a number of different perspectives about the Heidelberg Project -- a salvage art exhibit by Tyree Guyton in its 25th year. One of the lines that resonates with me is an observation in a posting by Dinah: "Most rap artist tell stories about their beginnings, struggles, exposures. This is visual rap for Tyree with a continuous flow of being seen and heard." I haven't heard of it described as visual rap before, and I find that to be incredibly evocative in relation to the discussion going on among the students.

In some ways, the different perspectives toward Guyton and what he's doing in Heidelberg are similar to some of the various perspectives toward rap music -- "noise" vs. cultural expression. And the idea of "noise" is a really interesting idea, since as one student points out noise (or garbage) can also be artistic expression. And at the same time, some noise is designed to be resonant for some and repulsive to others. Notorious B.I.G. or Tupac (I couldn't quite make out what was coming out of the black SUV that disrupted our visit) has a certain cultural cache with some that is also designed to intimidate others.

So, I'm going to put this out there -- there was a significant rupture through the veneer of the tour in the form of a black SUV. Yes, the "project" is supposed to have a certain urban grittiness and authenticity to it, but the foundation has been working hard to construct this as an outdoor art museum or exhibit, challenging our notions of art while still providing a sense of safety to it. The scary "thuggish" guy in the black SUV with his crisp white t-shirt and silent partner holding a pit bull in his lap purposefully challenged both the sense of safety and the notion of the pieces as valuable works. Maybe it got just a little too authentic in that outdoor museum.

For those who weren't there, here's what happened. Most of the students in my course on ethnography and Detroit caught up with each other on the east side of Mt. Elliott, across the street from the entrance to the Heidelberg Project but in front of two houses that had been re-purposed in the Heidelberg motif -- salvaged items placed, nailed, hung in various places; works of "graffiti" on the exterior; a DOT orange ironwork piece leaning against one; a tree fallen into one house. We waited for the docent to arrive, myself a bit nervous about whether we were in the right spot, while a few students started crawling around the two abandoned houses taking pictures.

The neighborhood is on the Southeast side of Detroit, and is a little sketchy by suburban standards, and Mt. Elliott where we were parked is a wide 5 lane boulevard that's heavily traveled. I double-checked the instructions and saw that we were supposed to park on Ellery, but I didn't see Ellery on the map and neither cross street near Heidelberg Street was Ellery. By this time, it was 5-10 minutes past when we were to meet the docent.

Finally, we saw a young, thin woman (girl, almost) across the street who was looking at us and had a sense of surety about her that made it obvious she was Jessica, our docent, looking for us. She darted across the busy street to join us, and pointed out that we were supposed to meet her at the other end of Heidelberg on the "quiet" side. But she was nice about it, and adjusted to the change easily, leading us counter-clockwise around the block -- the opposite of her usual route.

She led us past houses with different motifs -- one house covered in stuffed animals, one as a critique(?) of police practices, one that allegedly represented the role of God in Motown and Guyton's work. Jessica took us up the block from house to house offering an explanation of each and answering questions. And if you notice in the pictures, these are certainly abandoned, dilapidated houses.  Guyton, who grew up on Heidelberg street, began molding them 25 years ago into salvage-art sculptures, though some might describe them as covered in garbage and primitive graffiti. Now it's a two block section of Detroit that looks, as one student points out, like someone "had stumbled upon a crazy neighbor's yard or was stuck in a horror film."

As we arrived at the end of the block, an old maroon beater pulled up beside us and the driver rolled down her window and yelled at us that she was about to run out of gas and needed money.

Wow.

As an instructor leading a group of students, I was a bit embarrassed that she'd do this in Heidelberg. Like she was driving down the road and saw a group of obvious suburbanites and thought, "I'm gonna shake them down." But then again, I've had similar things happen to me in Ypsilanti. I just couldn't believe she was doing it there. It reflected a certain disregard for the work that Guyton is trying to do.
But this was minor. Compared to what came later.

Once we made our way around the project, past the homage to Oz, the number house, the clock house, and the new white house, Tyree Guyton came out to give us his 15 minutes of attention.

I noticed him come out of a house next door and make a wide circle around us to the house on the other side of us, chat with the folks on the porch, pick up a couple items, and wander down the street near us. The whole approach took several minutes. Jessica was trying to wave him toward us, but he seemed a bit reluctant. Finally, he came up on the curb and stood there without speaking for a minute. Then after a couple awkward attempts to break the ice, he started asking questions about art and life and offering enigmatic responses to our questions.

The discussion itself, on "what is art," was fascinating, I thought, as well as the ways that various people interpreted it. If you look at my students reflections, you'll see two widely different interpretations of what Guyton had to say as well as his sense of sanity, though I'd say all are accurate.

But as fascinating as the discussion about art was, even more fascinating was this disruption of Guyton's attempt to educate us about his art.

In the shaded street in front of us, two cars were trying to pass in opposite directions while a third car on the curb limited the room to pass. One vehicle was a mail truck. The other was a black SUV with tinted windows and shiny rims, the passenger window rolled down, and a young, thin black guy in a white wifebeater t-shirt holding in his lap a large pit bull puppy (or small dog, whichever way you want to look at it). The driver rammed the car in park with the SUV still cock-eyed in the street and cranked the stereo as loud as he could. Man, it was loud. We could barely hear Guyton talk.

Guyton leaned over the passenger-side of the car and exchanged words with the driver. I couldn't hear what he said, but I imagine it was something like, "can you turn it down a little I'm in the middle of something here." In response, the guy started yelling something back, and then cranked the stereo even louder (or was that my imagination?). He got out of the driver's side of the SUV and started dancing in the street, yelling something at Guyton, double-slapping his chest, and pointing with both hands. (Anyway, this is my interpretation of what he was doing. On the drive home, my son said he was making shooting gestures at him. I'm not so sure. And I'm not sure if he was dancing or just jumping around a bit.)

I don't think any of us moved, but it was palpably tense. More words were exchanged, though I couldn't make out any of them (others said they could, so if they want, they can report what they heard). Guyton suggested that we move down the block a bit, but when we did, that just seemed to piss this guy off even more.

He was a big guy, maybe 6'3"? Not fat but heavy. He was wearing a really crisp, large, white-white t shirt. Thick thread cotton. Not a Fruit of the Loom. He had a heavy chain around his neck (I think?). And long, dark-denim shorts (again, I think). He kept beating his chest and yelling at Guyton. Or us, I'm not sure.

Guyton suggested we move across the street and into the middle of the block. Jessica hung back, clinging to her cell phone. She didn't want to come with us. I think she was done and thought we were stupid for standing around watching. But what else were we going to do? Scatter and run? To where? Serpentine up and down the block? What would happen when we got tired? And what would scary guy do in response? And was there really any kind of imminent threat coming from scary guy yelling at us from his SUV? I suggested to my son later that he was probably on his way home to Grosse Pointe from Cranbrook and decided to stop and scare the white folks. He didn't buy it. Said the scary guy was a bit too authentic.

So Guyton led us into the middle of this field away from scary guy and his SUV and gangster rap. Scary guy let his dog out of the SUV and let it run up and down the street, clapping for it to come back to him. Then he came up on the sidewalk toward us, yelling some more, and pretending to push over one of Guyton's pieces -- the Coke/TV/War piece. Guyton ignored him, and he climbed back into his SUV and put it in drive.

I heard Jessica mutter, "he's making the block. . . " and she started to back away. But he turned left onto Mt. Elliott and sped north, shiny rims spinning. And everyone exhaled just a bit. Or at least it seemed that way to me.

Guyton kept talking for another 15 minutes or so, well past the 15 minutes he was supposed to talk to us, and we kept asking questions.

But really, what was that about?