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On Saturday, June 26, at 9:00 a.m. protest the world's largest trash incineraotr EVER! Yeah, EVER! And YOU can protest it! Click HERE to learn a smidgen more.
Protest at the main Detroit Public Library on Woodward across from the DIA. Be there or come back next year for our perennial Detroit Trash incinerator protest!
This is the GOOD kinda propaganda, y'all. How does apathy feel? Is it soft?
Yes, Virginia Woolfe, "Banksy" is a woman.
Earlier this week, I believe TheOnion.com published a piece that unearthed an allusive face.
The face of "89-year-old Rose Biggin, a grandmother from the Camden Town neighborhood of North London" was outed as being a famous, some may even venture to say "brainwashing", graffitti artist.
I beg to differ.
"Banksy" is, in fact, Oneita Jackson, known Detroit blogger and vandalism-person. Commonly believed to be a Brittish male with a very deep, perhaps camouflaged "for-my-documentary" voice, my sources have confirmed that she's a woman.
Shocking, I know, that I would so boldly disagree with a scource as reliable as The Onion?!
Well, she said it.
The following is her written public apology to the Detroit Free Press (and the world):
"Imagine you’re Banksey, I mean, Oneita Big Mouth and you get caught on tape doing something you shouldn’t have been doing, something you’re always checking other people for: making the City of Detroit look bad.
That’s what happened Wednesday after the grand opening ceremony of the Bagley Pedestrian Bridge. I wrote my name on a brand new bench on the bridge.
A reporter for another publication gave me a call to tell me he was writing about vandalism and that he had me on tape, he said, vandalizing the bridge.
Oh, my.
I admitted it was me.
The image of me pulling out a green Pilot fine-point pen, writing on the bench, then cursing the fact that I had done it came back vividly. I had written my name then realized the camera was there.
I was troubled by it all day, but never exercised my inner big mouth about it and that’s the problem, said my editor, Stephen Henderson. I was only trying to fess up after I was caught.
He was right.
Was I ashamed? Yes. Did I think it would go away? Yes. I hoped it would and I wouldn’t have to deal with it.
But I have to deal with it now; I wouldn’t be writing about it right now if that reporter hadn’t called me, seeking comment.
I make a living running my big mouth telling people how they should behave. I cannot be Oneita Big Silent now. I have to answer to Detroit -- and to my son.
Vandalism is the willful and malicious destruction of property. What I did was willful. I was excited when I saw the bench and that people had written on it and wanted to add my tag to it. That’s what we did in New York City when I was young: We put our tags on the park benches. I also wrote my name in wet concrete when I was in D.C.
But I’m not just another girl on the avenue. I’m a Detroiter, a blogger-columnist-newspaper chick and, as Free Press Editor Paul Anger pointed out, a role model. I interact with people on the O Street blog and talk to students and people in the community. I speak my truth and I seek the truth.
And now I hope to be a better role model for the truth.
I returned to the pedestrian bridge Friday to look for my name on the bench and was surprised to see that it was gone. [I thought, "Those muthafuckas stolen my art and sold that shit on the black market!] So were other names. I went to the welcome center and told the women there what I had done. They asked what kind of pen I had used and told me Wednesday’s rain probably washed it away.
It might have washed my name away, but it cannot wash away how stupid I feel.
I apologize."
~Banksy
Before anyone apologizes any further, let's remind ourselves that the concept of vandalism is not as simplistic as one may initially think. A recent event took a certain spoke of the art community on a jostling discussion of a similar topic. Can "vandalism" become valuable art, meaning , major museum, big $ status, even pervade the law--if it's crafted by the correct hand?" YES. There are tons of places vandalism can take you, kids, and The Detroit Free Press! Be creative! I once penned an image of my tupperware on a dumpster. OoOooooo wee!!!
Note from the editor: In the true "Onion" spirit, this is all in good fun.
The face of "89-year-old Rose Biggin, a grandmother from the Camden Town neighborhood of North London" was outed as being a famous, some may even venture to say "brainwashing", graffitti artist.
I beg to differ.
"Banksy" is, in fact, Oneita Jackson, known Detroit blogger and vandalism-person. Commonly believed to be a Brittish male with a very deep, perhaps camouflaged "for-my-documentary" voice, my sources have confirmed that she's a woman.
Shocking, I know, that I would so boldly disagree with a scource as reliable as The Onion?!
Well, she said it.
The following is her written public apology to the Detroit Free Press (and the world):
"Imagine you’re Banksey, I mean, Oneita Big Mouth and you get caught on tape doing something you shouldn’t have been doing, something you’re always checking other people for: making the City of Detroit look bad.
That’s what happened Wednesday after the grand opening ceremony of the Bagley Pedestrian Bridge. I wrote my name on a brand new bench on the bridge.
A reporter for another publication gave me a call to tell me he was writing about vandalism and that he had me on tape, he said, vandalizing the bridge.
Oh, my.
I admitted it was me.
The image of me pulling out a green Pilot fine-point pen, writing on the bench, then cursing the fact that I had done it came back vividly. I had written my name then realized the camera was there.
I was troubled by it all day, but never exercised my inner big mouth about it and that’s the problem, said my editor, Stephen Henderson. I was only trying to fess up after I was caught.
He was right.
Was I ashamed? Yes. Did I think it would go away? Yes. I hoped it would and I wouldn’t have to deal with it.
But I have to deal with it now; I wouldn’t be writing about it right now if that reporter hadn’t called me, seeking comment.
I make a living running my big mouth telling people how they should behave. I cannot be Oneita Big Silent now. I have to answer to Detroit -- and to my son.
Vandalism is the willful and malicious destruction of property. What I did was willful. I was excited when I saw the bench and that people had written on it and wanted to add my tag to it. That’s what we did in New York City when I was young: We put our tags on the park benches. I also wrote my name in wet concrete when I was in D.C.
But I’m not just another girl on the avenue. I’m a Detroiter, a blogger-columnist-newspaper chick and, as Free Press Editor Paul Anger pointed out, a role model. I interact with people on the O Street blog and talk to students and people in the community. I speak my truth and I seek the truth.
And now I hope to be a better role model for the truth.
I returned to the pedestrian bridge Friday to look for my name on the bench and was surprised to see that it was gone. [I thought, "Those muthafuckas stolen my art and sold that shit on the black market!] So were other names. I went to the welcome center and told the women there what I had done. They asked what kind of pen I had used and told me Wednesday’s rain probably washed it away.
It might have washed my name away, but it cannot wash away how stupid I feel.
I apologize."
~Banksy
Before anyone apologizes any further, let's remind ourselves that the concept of vandalism is not as simplistic as one may initially think. A recent event took a certain spoke of the art community on a jostling discussion of a similar topic. Can "vandalism" become valuable art, meaning , major museum, big $ status, even pervade the law--if it's crafted by the correct hand?" YES. There are tons of places vandalism can take you, kids, and The Detroit Free Press! Be creative! I once penned an image of my tupperware on a dumpster. OoOooooo wee!!!
Note from the editor: In the true "Onion" spirit, this is all in good fun.
Good morning Afternoon!
So I woke up at 4:30 a.m. to write a story after a fitful night of sleep. At 8:30a.m. I went back to sleep and woke up at 1:30 p.m.! What a waste of a good day! I'll be playing catchup on my to-do list. I want to start another Detroit Verbatim series on this blog and I also want to start something Time magazine lagged on: The pop culture chart that ranked pop news from shocking to Predictable to shockingly predictable.
Enough brainstorming. The bottom line is that i just need to do it. For my own sake. Because seriously, who reads this anyway? If you are reading this you probably stumbled onto here looking for something completely different. Sorry to take up your time. Happy web surfing!
Enough brainstorming. The bottom line is that i just need to do it. For my own sake. Because seriously, who reads this anyway? If you are reading this you probably stumbled onto here looking for something completely different. Sorry to take up your time. Happy web surfing!
It's been too long...
To rev up my motivation/productivity I really should write on here more. I have been diligently writing in my personal journal but that hardly counts in terms be being seen by the world (however virtual).
Part of me has been bit by the lazy bug. The urge to lounge away by late spring days in the warm sun and soft breeze, reading a book or biking to Belle Isle to run and even swim if the weather and current permits.
No doubt I love Detroit, but staying financially buoyant in these economic waters is a constant hustle. That's what many are coming to find and there's a whole lot of shady business going down. The dilemma is whether to join 'em or slowly sink into poverty.
What could I do to get attention? A friend of mine has a hobby--he started taking pics of local Detroiters on the street and people, editors, are starting to notice his work just from online. It's one of those things one would have to be willing to invest time in, enjoy, and eventually create a portfolio or resume that speak for itself. These days one has to be creative in assuring gainful employment whether that's through contract work of a regular 9-5 or, let's face it, the black market.
There are so many things I want to accomplish before I get too old! While the term old is relative (30 is the new 20?) and I am still indisputably young by any modern measure, I feel like I'm behind on so many accomplishments. Every time I "set" my mind on something, another thing comes up, like going outside, talking to neighbors, spending time with Tim, etc. so I don't do all I could do. I could report of so many things in Detroit just from this blog and generate my own readership, my own news service. Why don't I? It is the summer warmth lazing my bones? The Winder cold? There's always something. So Why Don't I pack my open ended days with my own agenda? Website creation, blog, book, video, photos... Really tho.
There are so many avenues I wish I had the means to support myself while I excel at a hobby. But since I don't, why don't I make that happen? If I can't find the answer to these questions soon then something is wrong with me.
I used to be so up on city politics and now whenever I check in with city business it seems so cyclical, the same annual hotbutton issues, the same unresolved problems, empty promises, unimaginative leadership. One gets bored. I'd rather stick my nose in a National Geographic and let the words and images within cary me to a far away land where Detroit is not even on the map.
I always thought myself to be a decent writer. I have so much improvement to do but I can't let that stop me. Practice is improvmeent, however slow and I have no doubt in my mind that I could write as well if not better than Kiran Desai or Tea Obreht.
But I slack and a daydream and I relax my way into oblivion. At this rate, when I die, I will have nothing to leave behind. But why should I think like that? So to spur my thirst for the writers pen/keyboard I might take up a community college creative writing class and work that out. Or a writers retreat somewhere that forces my competitive spirit to flame up and the words to fall from mind to hand to paper in just the right order to prove my brilliance.
If you start dancing and moving for your own dream creation ensues. Wake up. That's the message that comes to all of us eventaully.
Part of me has been bit by the lazy bug. The urge to lounge away by late spring days in the warm sun and soft breeze, reading a book or biking to Belle Isle to run and even swim if the weather and current permits.
No doubt I love Detroit, but staying financially buoyant in these economic waters is a constant hustle. That's what many are coming to find and there's a whole lot of shady business going down. The dilemma is whether to join 'em or slowly sink into poverty.
What could I do to get attention? A friend of mine has a hobby--he started taking pics of local Detroiters on the street and people, editors, are starting to notice his work just from online. It's one of those things one would have to be willing to invest time in, enjoy, and eventually create a portfolio or resume that speak for itself. These days one has to be creative in assuring gainful employment whether that's through contract work of a regular 9-5 or, let's face it, the black market.
There are so many things I want to accomplish before I get too old! While the term old is relative (30 is the new 20?) and I am still indisputably young by any modern measure, I feel like I'm behind on so many accomplishments. Every time I "set" my mind on something, another thing comes up, like going outside, talking to neighbors, spending time with Tim, etc. so I don't do all I could do. I could report of so many things in Detroit just from this blog and generate my own readership, my own news service. Why don't I? It is the summer warmth lazing my bones? The Winder cold? There's always something. So Why Don't I pack my open ended days with my own agenda? Website creation, blog, book, video, photos... Really tho.
There are so many avenues I wish I had the means to support myself while I excel at a hobby. But since I don't, why don't I make that happen? If I can't find the answer to these questions soon then something is wrong with me.
I used to be so up on city politics and now whenever I check in with city business it seems so cyclical, the same annual hotbutton issues, the same unresolved problems, empty promises, unimaginative leadership. One gets bored. I'd rather stick my nose in a National Geographic and let the words and images within cary me to a far away land where Detroit is not even on the map.
I always thought myself to be a decent writer. I have so much improvement to do but I can't let that stop me. Practice is improvmeent, however slow and I have no doubt in my mind that I could write as well if not better than Kiran Desai or Tea Obreht.
But I slack and a daydream and I relax my way into oblivion. At this rate, when I die, I will have nothing to leave behind. But why should I think like that? So to spur my thirst for the writers pen/keyboard I might take up a community college creative writing class and work that out. Or a writers retreat somewhere that forces my competitive spirit to flame up and the words to fall from mind to hand to paper in just the right order to prove my brilliance.
If you start dancing and moving for your own dream creation ensues. Wake up. That's the message that comes to all of us eventaully.
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