Detroit Arts

I received a flurry of outraged response a couple months ago on another blog when I suggested that New York City was dead as an arts city. The famed New York blog "Gawker" reprinted my words and invited attacks. The response was all outrage and no argument, because what I had said was true. Their literary and arts scene is stagnant. The great city has priced any true bohemia out of existence. They've destroyed their artistic roots. Breeding grounds there for original art are gone.

In August I had walked the New York streets-- which were filled with the usual grim-faced office people-- and for the first time in that metropolis felt no excitement; no vibe. Not until later did I realize the cause: no surprises. There was no longer anything in New York City which surprised me-- only the same recycled postures and regurgitated ideas; simulations of independence sold with conglomerate packaging. No "new." No shocks. No innovation.

Artistic energy now resides in of all places Detroit. Amid the broken-down wasteland grittiness, the sense of shattered-glass dog-eat-dog fight to survive, there's a lurking spirit in the ruined place that for the artist and writer is fascinating and invigorating.

For all the stark tragedy of Detroit's streets, it's a great place to write. Maybe because of the tragedy; the city's everpresent SOUL. One tastes something of what the life of Francois Villon must've been like!