Below, Between, Beyond

 

      Over the course of Detroit's evolution, some voids have been created.  They are spaces not made for people, often the result of planning executed with irreversible aplomb.  Although there are many places in the city where you can experience complete solitude entirely bereft of humanity, the voids beneath the freeways are unique in their isolation.  Visiting these pockets brings about a strange sense of disengagement, as though your existence has briefly ceased.  You have entered a between world, it is at once hellish and serene, ultimately, however, it is the sound that leaves an impression. 

     Within these cavities, created as a result of a growing automobile industry, and accepted as an inevitable feature of a city reliant on such an industry, you can hear the perpetual sound of Detroit's history.  It is not the usual white noise of a freeway heard from afar, or even from upon, but rather a clangorous mixture of disturbances heard from within the belly of an industrial beast.  From the ceaseless procession of vehicles comes the sound of the rise of the city, the sound of its progress and dominance in manufacturing these vehicles, and also the echo of the city being transported away on the wheels of it's own creation.  Occasionally a vehicle will pass overhead scrapping its exhaust system across the concrete, reverberating a question in the chamber below: "Is this what you wanted Detroit?" And then a rattling semi-truck follows with the boisterous retort: "Because this is what it's become."  This sound, born here, pulsates around the globe; and in the places below the freeway you can hear, and feel, the trembling of the world emanating from, and back to, Detroit.

     Claude Debussy said “Music is the space between the notes.”  In other words, what you don't hear defines what you do hear.  Standing below the freeway is like entering those spaces between the notes and finding a miraculous sound, one not meant to be heard. You are, after all, in a place that no longer exists, as far as the city is concerned, and yet there it is.

       

New Forts Of Detroit

      The first thing Cadillac did when he breached the shore of Detroit in 1701 was build a fort, thus starting a tradition that continues to this day.  His Fort Pontchartrain was built out of fear of the British, and technically the first building completed within the stockade fence was St. Anne's Church; either way you look at it, this makes building structures out of fear, be it of invasion or going to hell,  the oldest practice in the city.
     Of course the British did come eventually and, keeping with tradition, built their own fort, Fort Lernoult, later renamed Fort Shelby by the Americans when the United States finally took it over in 1813.  And like the French and British before them, the Americans felt a need to build their own fort.  As a result we still have Fort Wayne, built in the mid-nineteenth century and currently sitting empty on 100 acres of land at the narrowest part of the Detroit river.
     All three of these aforementioned forts eventually had hotels named in their honor; but it's hard to imagine a future where the city's hotels will be named for our current fortifications, and not just because it's often hard to find the names of them to begin with. 
      Detroit is full of forts. They are accepted here as natural.  The wisdom says that naturally you would make your building as secure as possible. Naturally everyone understands this, after all, would they rather have an empty building?  The city is naturally thankful that there are any businesses here at all. So if you want to put a windowless facade on your building that faces a commercial street you go right ahead; we are grateful for your existence.  Besides, the city has more pressing problems, but you, you are not the problem, you have come up with a solution.

     The artist Gordon Matta-Clark practiced what he called Anarchitecture which involved destroying parts of buildings to expose new vistas, to allow in light where there was none. The term, in his case, was an obvious play on anarchy along with being appropriate for what he was doing as far as removing architecture.  Although the new forts of Detroit could use a guy like Gordon Matta-Clark, it could be argued that these buildings are actually more worthy of the term Anarchitecture, for they are indeed without architecture.

     Not all of the city's forts, however, are built with the front-less charm of a Lego block.  There is another style of fort that has been in vogue for awhile.  It involves sealing all the openings of an older building with brick or cinder-block, at least on the first floor, but often several stories higher.  Of utmost importance for this style of fort is to not have one place where an occupant might be able to look outside.  There is no need to see the invaders, their arrows will all just bounce off anyway.  These forts wait for the future, unfortunately they will never now when it arrives. 

     According to Silas Farmer's 1884 history of Detroit, the timbers of the dismantled Fort Shelby were used to form the sides of an open sewer built through downtown in 1828.  "These primitive drains offended the eye and outraged the nostrils for several years." he writes.  They were so stupid back then.
   

Let The Statues Help

     Ever since General Motors decided to put their logo in blinding light atop their headquarters, the Renaissance Center, which also happens to be, for ill, Detroit's most recognizable building, it has posed a problem for those who would like to use this edificial symbol as proof of their Detroitness.  Chrysler continues to release commercials with the tag line "Imported from Detroit" showing images of their new vehicles navigating the streets of Detroit in such a way that makes the Renaissance Center conspicuous in its absence.
     Even for someone who quite literally represents the city, the new signs have presented a problem.  Take a look at the following screenshot from U.S. congressman Hansen Clarke's website:

    Two images of the GM headquarters, one with the sun's reflection obscuring the logo and the other with the logo blatantly photo-shopped away, tell us just how crucial the building is as an icon of congressman Clarke's district, a district, apparently, best viewed from another country.  As a constituent of this district I would like to suggest to congressman Clarke that there are other ways of photographing the Renaissance Center without giving the appearance of an inappropriate relationship with an auto company.  Plus, as an added extra additional bonus, you don't even have to leave the country. 

     While I'm on the subject of GM and its lighting, I would like to remind GM's head of sales and marketing, Joel Ewanick, of his quote in the New York Times back in November of 2010, where he said he was "happy the company did not go further with an alternate plan to wrap the entire top floors with electronic lighting.  'We had to stop and say, that’s too much,' he said. 'We didn’t want to look like the casinos.'"
    Now that you have wrapped the entire top floors with lighting Mr. Ewanick, do you see GM going beyond the casinos in the future?  Just wondering.

Color Allegiance Update From Hart Plaza

     If you have sworn allegiance to the periwinkle flag, your chances of having a symbol come springtime are slim.  Although the representative of your color struggles bravely against the harsh February winds, it has unfortunately been torn in half.  Still, as you know being a periwinkle devotee, this does not diminish the need for your color to be seen fluttering above the welcoming public space that is Hart Plaza. As someone really smart no doubt once said: "A world with tattered periwinkle is better than a world with no periwinkle." Far be it for the city of Detroit to question this theorem.

     Those of you who have pledged your commitment to yellow are also at risk of losing your symbol soon.  Your best hope is that your flag can survive, if only in just a handkerchief-size portion, until the dandelions arrive. 

     For the blue contingent, although not in the best of shape, it looks like you'll be able to last at least until the Hoedown when your most dangerous threat will be a drunken hillbilly who, out to impress his girlfriend, scales the flagpole and fashions himself a bandana that he will later be seen wearing as he challenges the Spirit of Detroit to a shirtless fight.

     Finally, for the red legions out there, your flag, although a bit worse for wear, looks as though it will be presentable enough to fly here, in one of the most prominent and visited areas of the city, for at least a couple more years.

      No, thank you Hart Plaza, keep up the great work, don't change a thing!