Roxbury: Jamaica Plain's Older, Badass Brother

DigBoston is a free newspaper with a ton of ads which centers purely around "events, humor and nightlife." But every once in awhile they put on their serious hats and do a serious story just so they don't forget what it feels like to have their words taken seriously.

When I was assigned to cover a Roxbury town discussion over a Walmart moving in to the poor Boston neighborhood, I expected to write an unconventionally humorless story. I'd have to inject a few harmless quips per order of my editors, but I didn't think I'd be moved at all. Instead, I soaked in the energy of the community meeting, and the people's refusal to admit the need for an abusive conglomerate in their neighborhood. Something sparked in me, and soon I was paying much more attention to the oft overlooked section of Boston.

Roxbury is poor, but it's not without its vibrancy. As much as I cringe each time someone in Roxbury runs out in front of my car--with children in hand--I receive more from their polite, thankful hand waves (for not plowing through them) than I see when I drive through the straight laced, uptight jerk squads of the financial district in downtown Boston.

I've definitely been paying more attention to the Rox since I visited them and heard some of their most prominent voices. And though the neighborhood is still two miles down the street from me, I've felt a growing urge in the past few months to leisurely hop on the T and see what's going on. I'm sure I'm not the first curious white boy to be thinking these thoughts, but I think I know what's kept others from actually going and checking things out.

The numbers say it plainly, and Roxbury is one of the most dangerous parts of Boston. But if you're walking around during warm daylight hours, enjoying Dudley Square, you have nothing to worry about. Any poor community that rejects the promise of a Wal Mart could use my business, and they certainly deserve to be recognized for the one of a kind shopping experience that every Boston neighborhood can boast.

Sharpening the Teeth of the Commuter

"City driving? Yeah, I know how it is. I drive through Lowell all the time." No, you don't know how it is, until you've driven in a real city.

Living and working around JP has proven to be a double edged sword when it comes to mode of transport. When I finally have to hoof it to work, class or internship, I've discovered a strong appreciation for my Honda while also fostering a great frustration with pedestrians and drivers.

Thanks to the ancient lineage of Boston's city planning, many of the city's streets were once horse paths strewn willy nilly, and defy all logic as the paved streets they are today. Take Shawmut Avenue in the South End for example, which is a one way street which suddenly reverses direction for two blocks, and then goes back again. Streets like these mean very tightly cramped cars going down single lane roads with zero wiggle room.

Pedestrians see how short of a skip it is to cross the street to the coffee shop and often decide to strut--aloof--across the street without looking. I have to kick my brakes to avoid running over no-look, suicidal pedestrians every single time I drive through Roxbury. Pedestrians in Boston are immensely too trusting, putting all responsibility for their life in the hands of the driver hurtling toward them. They know the cars will stop for them, because vehicular homicide charges are a bummer.

We'll see how much of a safety handle I have on things when I'm zombied through finals week and my two thousand pound car is purely an extension of my calcified and burnt out brain.

Sauntering in the South End

An internship at DigBoston is one of the biggest things I was hinging on when deciding [on a whim] to move to Boston this Summer. Luckily it worked out, and not only am I learning immensely how to function as a new media journalist at the HQ of the free arts & nightlife weekly newspaper, but I'm getting my first taste of the South End.

What a rich little neighborhood. This is where the 30-something dudes seem to be going to work. Yuppies is a good way to put it. They seem nice enough, but they're in their own little world. The South End is never crowded with foot traffic, but you still get to see these dudes walking around in pairs or by themselves--perfect posture and with plenty of hair gel--on their way to work. I prefer the homeless dudes who ask me for money outside the Dunkin Donuts and The Bostonian, a convenience store I go to that makes great, fresh deli sandwiches.

courtesy of Yelp.com

Emilio's. This place is a bit of a walk from my work, but I'm down with their pizza slices. Pepperoni is made fresh here, and I recommend a sample to anybody. It's right across the street from The Beehive, and the BCA; one of the best bars in Boston, and one of the best theatre venues in boston, respectively. On any night of the week, you walk out of either of those places and Emilio's is a warm cradle of cheese and grease. Cheers to warm cheese cradles.

Transplanted

 

A few months ago, I moved my whole situation to Jamaica Plain. It was a bit of a traumatic disconnect, but well overdue. I went from the gray death of Lowell to the slightly less gray death of JP. Living near Roslindale and the officially Southern end of Metro Boston, the poverty and obvious gentrification hits you a bit like a brick. On our move in day, a shark on a bike scoped us out to see what we were moving into our place. Certain people from the community like to watch the white people move in and see if they're bringing in HDTV's and such, I learned. They sometimes break in and snatch those valuables at a later date.

But the Arnold Arboretum was the first to save the sunny disposition I desired to have in my new place of residence. This big, green man-made forest and tree conservatory in the middle of southern Boston blew my mind, as I didn't know it existed before. A bit of a love note to my new discovery can be seen in a mixed media documentary I made, and that will come soon.

Cheers to new places, and all the have to offer.

Pleasant View Disrupts Lowell Bum Ecosystem

Much like forest critters flee the grip of the treeclearing chainsaw, the bums and stoners of Lowell have been losing their natural habitat too.


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Hidden behind those trees is a sharp drop and a land of mystery which may never come again. It's been months since the trees went missing at the north side bridge at University Ave., but it hasn't been long enough for us to forget its former treasures. I generally go by the rule that if it's still in Google Maps, it still exists...

But for the stoners and hobos who called these trees home, wishing won't bring this forest of dreams back.

Courtesy of Gerry Nutter

Ahh... you can smell the grass now as you walk along the river in the new jeans you just stole from the Salvation Army dumpster; because they forgot to lock it.

Maybe your pink, training wheels bicycle is a hundred yards behind you at the side of the road. You borrowed it from that little girl who screamed as you rode away. I mean, it was sitting on the front lawn. You're a Lowell bum and this is the way things are.

Don't worry about that, you have fishing to do. The fishing rod is broken and duct-taped in 3 places and the hook would give you instant tetanus, but you need to eat, and the mercury filled fish of the Merrimack are looking pretty acceptable right now.

The University is in full swing above you, and every once in awhile a few longhaired cannabis smokers mosey down and squat in the trees next to you.

Anyone who has been at the University for more than a year and who has walked across this bridge at night knows the thick smell of pot that would waft up from the trees below on the North campus side of the bridge. If you ventured to see where it was coming from, you would see modest little dirt paths leading from the street corner and sharply downward into the brush.

Beer bottles, used condoms, the homeless and other Lowell horrors made their home in that little 200'x50' section of woods.

But they were our horrors.

5 Pictures from Different Views

5 pictures of same thing - keychain

Bumped Into By the Paint Gun Again

Williams Street, Lowell

Whoa!

Hey buddy, almost didn't see ya there... lookin' down at me with your lens in my face.

Oh, you're paint. And also a stencil. College kids again? This would be a better story if it were a real security camera.

Let's break it down>>

Boston 2011. Courtesy of "Lucasone" All Rights Reserved.

>>Here's Boston, March 2011. The artist here is Lucasone. You can find him on Flickr, because he's smart enough to take pictures of his work as soon as daybreak hits. There's money to be made for Lucas. He's credited in my caption because the pic was listed "All Rights Reserved." Pictures protected means ++cash.

Here's work from the Plateau neighborhood of Montreal, uncredited.

>>My first blog post about the lack of graffiti in Lowell was really unintentional. As stated then, I simply ran into it, and it was less than glorious. Then I ran into the same situation this week with our stencil friend.

I won't focus on what Lowell is lacking this time--I think the juxtaposition does that all by itself. Instead of any more negativity, here's a post about what Lowell could be.

Last but not least. "Graffiti Row," Boston. 2011. Uncredited.

Get lost in those colors.

Strive, Lowell. Strive.

Picking up the Paintbrush--err, Spraycan--Once More.

Next time you're strolling toward downtown and hit Broadway Street and Fletcher, perhaps to do some grocery shopping at King Liquors, you may notice a PSA from Lowell's guerilla art squad.

Living in Lowell the past 3 years, I've never been one to doubt the city's thorough street cred. As far as gray little cities go, the city's got both the grit and the talent to be expected of the hustle and bustle.

There's dance studios downtown where an urban dance crew from Lowell made it to America's Best Dance Crew finals. Everyday, the skate park just past South Campus cradles some of the most skilled skateboarders outside of Boston. These hidden gems are the Lowellites I've met outside the school, and outside the ephemeral populating effect of those temporary kids at the University. One thing I had never given any attention to though...

There's little to no graffiti to be spoken of. Sure, there's tags, but in recent years it seems that the growing city of Lowell has always known its boundaries. The city's street art community hasn't quite arrived to the level of painting gleeful children and deceased musician murals on the walls.

Why now Lowell? Is this how we inaugurate ourselves into the sociopolitical guerrilla art community of the millennium?

Well I don't buy it. Lowell can do better. I believe somewhere downtown there is a town hall of citizens in uproar about this graffiti on the wall. "We weren't ready to go public yet!" "Who exposed us?!"

It was the blasted students at the University, not some disenfranchised diamond in the rough. They saw a documentary on Banksy and wanted to take their own stencils to the streets.

They'd rack their suburban brains for something profound until the divine idea comes to copy something out of the sociology textbook. Soon, black and red spraypaint is purchased from the 24-hour CVS just a hop away from South Campus, and then "Bling Bling Dollar Store" needs to repaint their walls. "TV Kills." Nah, Lowell's got bigger problems, dude.

Poor little dollar store. They can't afford that.

But maybe we can't afford to stay out of the graffiti game any longer. How else is this little soot city gonna grow big and strong again?