September 22, 2004
Notes, Photos, And Questions For The Phoenix Town Hall Meeting
by The Tears of Things
. . . Everybody talking to their pockets.
Everybody wants a box of chocolates and a long-stemmed rose.
Everybody knows . . . -- Leonard Cohen
We won't be there, but for those of our local readers who attend tomorrow's Town Hall Meeting on the Future of Downtown Phoenix, we've assembled key reminders of some of the people you'll be listening to, and a few new photos of the places you'll be hearing about. Yes, we cruised by The Burgeoning again. You shouldn't be surprised that nothing has changed in either case.
[New readers should read "The Burgeoning" on the sidebar for complete background and photos.]
Phil Jones, Director of the Phoenix Office of Arts & Culture, is one of the main players in the Evans-Churchill Plan.
On August 23rd, we published "The Pride of Phoenix, Part One: Roosevelt Row is Desolation Row." On August 28th, we sent Mr. Jones an email which said, in part,
Mr. Jones:
We recently posted, on our weblog, "The Pride of Phoenix, Part One: Roosevelt Row is Desolation Row," and emailed you the link. In that article, we implicitly criticized your seeming indifference to the lack of responsibility, self-respect, and citizenship of several of the leading lights on that dolorous street.
We now formally ask for a response. How can you set forth such tasty plums as the Evans-Churchill Draft Plan when the people you're going to give the money to don't give a damn about what's outside their own front doors?
Go look at modified arts, for example, and then remind yourself it's been there six years.
We've had our say, so far. What's yours?
We got an email which asked for a meeting. We replied. We waited a week, then got a reply from Mr. Jones, apologizing and explaining that he hadn't scrolled down far enough in the email reply to get to our reply. Okay, sure. And he gave us his schedule for the upcoming week, with some optional dates. And we went along with this politely. Then we dumped "The Burgeoning." But now we ask Mr. Jones and our readers to reread the email.
It's harsh and direct and clear. You could have been a mensch, Mr. Jones, but you began juking and jiving from the beginning. Why a meeting? To find out if we're real? Ask around: we are all too real.
Why don't you just answer these questions? Why are you fronting points for egregious, lazy, greedy people like Kimber Lanning? We just took more pictures of modified arts today, and it looks exactly the same as it has forever. That's right, the day before the big meeting, Lanning doesn't have to lift a finger to pick up a single cigarette butt, even though the Town Hall attendees will be cruising right by her venue. All they have to do is turn left, or right, and scope it out, and we strongly urge them to do so. But she is unafraid. Who's she got in her pocket to make her so confident?
Mr. Jones, get your eyes out of your pocket, and your nose off the ground. There oughta be a law against you not comin' around; you should be made to answer questiones . . .
Greg Esser, another spaghetti-spined city official (and downtown gallery owner; conflict of interest?). Here's the email we sent to him:
We recently posted, on our weblog, "The Pride of Phoenix, Part One: Roosevelt Row is Desolation Row," and emailed you the link. In that article, we implicitly and explicitly criticized your stewardship of both your own art galleries and the programs over which you preside. In fact, we asked you directly:
"Where is your civic pride, citizen?"
We repeat the question. We await your answer.
We have received no reply from Mr. Esser. Two years ago, he had a big-assed vision. Hot air. And he's made no changes to eye lounge since our last post. Look:
This photo was taken today, September 22, 2004; but don't expect to see either one of us holding up today's paper to prove it. Just believe it or not. Looks familiar if you check out our first post on this subject.
Please notice the dangerous pothole directly in front of the door. You're such a wonderful steward of our struggling city, Mr. Esser. You and Ms. Dach will spruce up your new space up one block and around the corner on 6th Street, but you won't fill a head-cracking hole right in front of your first art gallery. What's the matter, man, haven't you got the weight to get a patch crew down there, Mr. Public Art Director? Or is it just . . . who fookin cares? We think both, gusano. (We've dropped the polite part, by the way.)
Kimber Lanning just opened another branch of her odiously-named record store last weekend. In the meantime, this is what modified arts looks like today, September 22, 2004:
We say: give her a standing ovation! And another business license! And don't worry how many she may pack into Modified for the "no-alcohol" and "no-smoking" concerts. Great White-type fires don't happen that often, after all. (We saw four firemen in Modified once, not long after 9/11; from Engine Eight they were, in their slick yellow macho uniforms, but all they did was try to hit on my wife. Assholes. -- JdB)
Wayne Rainey of Holga's and monOrchid. Supposublee, in 52 days Shade Projects will host, at the monOrchid building, their newly-inaugurated Janet Napolitano blah blah award. The governor will show up here:
Rainey owns this building, but Ted Decker, ASU's downtown front man, now runs Shade Projects. Rainey founded shade magazine, but now, if you follow the masthead changes in the magazine over the past two years, you see Ted rise, then fade (editor: Shade Projects), and Wayne fall and slide, to Photo Editor. So now Ted's the king of the pygmies down there. But the building stands nearly naked, wearing faded red boxer shorts, waiting for limousines. They'd better hustle, don't you think?
We didn't take any new pictures of Anthony Olivieri's MetropolisLLC properties, but they look the same -- funky as the riverbottom -- as does the empty placeholder website. We wonder if he'll be presenting his "International Vision" for the benefit of the attendees tomorrow? (What's that music? "He oiled his way across the floor, oozing charm from every pore . . .") Will anyone ask him why he and his partners keep buying up properties without improving the ones they already own? Could it be they're just waiting for the golden eggs to start rolling out from the city goose?
Beatrice Moore's window looks the same, undergoing invisible "restoration." She does have people working on her roof, though, maintaining her investment:
(Hey, are you guys legal?)
Kathy Cone of the Cone Gallery. We noticed a change, this time: they added a vertical name to the wrought iron gate, and a helpful visual aid -- a red cone.
But that's it. (By the way, after persuing their many-tentacled website, we speculate that Ms. Kathy Cone wants to elbow her way onto Ms. Moore's plastic throne.)
Rob Zombie lite Mykil Zep of The Lodge finally removed the plastic thingy from his sign's "d." Still, the place looks run-down, as does the Red Door next door. That plywood's been leaning there for two weeks now. Are they waiting for a hurricane?
Enough of our little retour. Tomorrow night, after all the glittering talk of Copper Square and Phoenix Futures and Genomics and Richard-Florida-style loft living, will the nitty-gritty be that a big part of the pie will still be going to these lowdown downtown clowns?
We think it's a good question.
Posted by Jerome at September 22, 2004 04:00 PM | TrackBack