I recently responded to an open call for artist at a gallery in Detroit called the C Pop Gallery. I was accepted and invited to show three of my skateboards for an exhibition called "Poppor2nity". Poppor2nity was designed to give artist whom are gaining momentum of varying mediums an inexpensive an unorthodox way of showing in a world famous gallery. Not one to let my work go unrepresented I decided I would fly to Detroit for the night of the opening. I went alone and had no idea what to expect of my 18-hour stint in the Motor City. The following is an account of what I managed to experience one cold night in Detroit...
December 13th, 2008, 5:00am:
I woke up after three hours of sleep jumped in my car and drove the two hours to the airport (not very exciting, I promise it gets better).
December 13th, 2008, 3:45pm:
I landed in Detroit. I live at 9,700 feet above sea level in Breckenridge, CO, so after driving to Denver airport, which is 5,280 feet ABSL, and then flying up to 37,000 feet ABSL, and then down to Detroit, which can’t be much higher than 1,000 feet ABSL, my left ear had still not popped! Upon arriving in Detroit I considered going to the ER because it felt like there was a golf ball lodged between my brain and my ear cartilage. After reminding myself that if one of my friends was there and seeing me in this condition on the verge of going to the hospital they would have relentlessly gave me shit for being a pussy. I decided to go to the hotel and try to pop this bubble myself.
December 13th, 2008, 4:45pm:
A $55 dollar cab ride got me into downtown Detroit and dropped off at the Milner Hotel. This hotel looks very nice at first sight. Right across the street from the Tigers, and Lions stadiums and a beautiful old Victorian style building. The lobby was nice aside from the ringing in my ear. I was checked into room 9005, damn ninth floor this is going to hurt. Up the elevator, still no pop. I walked over to room 9005, upon opening the door to my hotel room all I saw was beer cans, an unmade bed, and cigarette butts all over the floor. Back down to the lobby, still no pop, I am in hell!!! I was then reassigned room 1005, fuck you very much asshole, back up the elevator to the tenth floor, still no pop.
December 13th, 2008, 5:00pm:
After a few minutes of digging in my ear I am convinced that I have popped my eardrum. With only two hours left before the opening the ER visit is no longer an option. The view from my room is interesting. Looking over a cloudy, snowy, and cold downtown Detroit I am reminded that this city is currently experiencing some very hard times. The skyline is a beautiful one though with very ironic symbology. The ultra modern GM building dominates the view surrounded by very gothic looking older Masonic style buildings. The cities skyline looks as if it was built out of spite of an older more successful European brother. The skyline reeks of has been, the M in the General Motors sign flickers in need of an expensive light bulb change. 
December 13th, 2008, 5:30pm:
I ventured out into the streets in search of a restaurant. This is the first sign I see...
 Unfortunately I am not feeling some fresh squeezed Kool Aid. Walking around downtown alone after dark I get the feeling I shouldn't. I grew up skating downtown Minneapolis almost every night with friends so I am quite comfortable with these situations, but I also know when I look like a target, and at this moment I am a bull’s-eye for a mugging. With that in mind I dip into the first place I see with an open seat at the bar. Hockey Town Cafe, it doesn't get any more touristy than this in Detroit. In a strange twist of fate the Birds of Prey World Cup Downhill ski race is on TV. I find this entertaining because this race takes place an hour from my house in Colorado and I have friends that are working the race. Even better yet, all of the employees (strangely slow for a Saturday night downtown) are commenting on how easy it looks. It then gets even better as the two middle aged women to my right start to comment on how lean those skier bodies are! This I find absolutely hysterical and tell the ladies where I from. Basically I do this to boost my ego and get my confidence up for the opening I am on my way to, which I am now getting nervous for... It works.
December 13th, 2008, 7:00pm:
A short cab ride down Woodward Ave and I’m staring at the front of the C Pop Gallery. I am now wickedly nervous.
 I always get very self-conscious before showing my art. I feel like most artists would agree in some form or another that their work is a direct interpretation of their thoughts and feelings. Imagine taking all of your deepest feelings and putting them on a wall for people to examine and critic. Does anyone get it? Are they understanding the message? I stand for a minute looking at the crowd already gathered inside the gallery through the window and I try getting myself mentally ready for what I’ve come all this way for. I almost feel like watching the entire night unfold from across the street and just wondering what everyone inside is saying about the art. Telling myself to head in, I cross the street walk through the door…
December 13th, 2008, 7:01pm:
Son Of A Bitch! The first painting I see is a brilliant painting selling for $5000.00 and I recognize the artist name from various art publications. Now I feel way out of my league and want to leave and go back my hotel. That however, would be pretty weak so swallow my guts reaction back down and begin to examine the art on the walls a little more thoroughly. After a few minutes of looking through the gallery I begin to relax and realize that I am in the company of amazing artist but my work is holding it’s own. Some of the art is exceptional and underpriced and some still good but way overpriced. The quality of the art that has been compiled within the gallery walls on this night is nothing short amazing and an incredibly inspiring.
December 13th, 2008, 7:45pm:
The crowd is good; there are plenty of people coming in and out of the gallery doors. The place is holding a strong crowd consistency. I am disappointed however of how difficult it is proving to be to strike up a conversation or meet the other artists. So much for celebratory shots and an after party. The demographic is made up of mostly self-involved, to-good-to-be-true artist, young sad looking EMO hipsters, and few couples on first dates trying prove to one another how cultured they are by attending an art opening. Then there is me, a mix of all that, without the date. I am probably being looked at as the weird solo guy in the corner observing everyone. I tend to do that when my art is on display, I’ll stand back and just watch how people react to the work. I was pleased with how things were going in that sense; people seemed to be really looking closely at each board, not just passing them by. I was particularly interested in the reaction of an older man who walked up to “Love, Hips, and Relationships”, a board with a number of hands giving the middle finger. He studied it for a minute, then stepped back and restudied, then got up close and took off his glasses and examined the line work. I wonder what he could have possibly been thinking?
December 13th, 2008, 8:15pm:
Socially this is killing me, I have now done 100 laps through the gallery and have been unsuccessful in striking up conversation. I begin to wonder why I spent the money and time coming to Detroit if I am not even going to talk to anyone at the opening. I think I need a recess. Luckily for me there is a dive bar next door. Making my escape to the dive bar is easy considering no one even knows I am at the show. The dive bar is a welcomed sight as the patrons are tattooed and loud. I drink two beers here and decide to head back to the gallery for another go at mingling. On my way I stop at the restroom. This restroom is disgusting! For the sake of self-entertainment I take a picture of myself. 
December 13th, 2008, 8:45pm:
Back in the gallery I make a few more laps. Still the outsider I give up on giving a shit and make my way to bar for free beer! Once at the bar I am damn near startled as someone says hello to me. I almost want to shhhhh him like a librarian because the unfamiliar noise directed at me has me confused that someone is actually making a social gesture in this museum like atmosphere. (Disclaimer: It wasn’t that bad, it was actually a very social atmosphere I am just overreacting because I didn’t know anyone.) This person as it turns out was another artist. He asked me to sign his poster. This made my day. One autograph later and I am now completely satisfied with my trip to Detroit (Man, I am one of those self-involved artsy pricks). I figured I came all this way so I better have some sort of photo of myself at the gallery, so I ask my new friend to take a few photo’s of me in front of my work. This is a request I am completely embarrassed by but a little too buzzed to care. 
December 13th, 2008, 9:45pm:
I finally introduce myself to the owner of the gallery who has been busy chatting with everyone there and thank him for having my art in his gallery. A sincere thank you to everyone at C Pop… but my night is just beginning.
December 13th, 2008, 9:50pm:
I head into the streets intending on grabbing a cab back downtown. I start walking down Woodward Ave towards downtown and can’t help but notice all the empty lots on what I assume would be prime real-estate just outside of downtown. My second thought after walking a couple blocks is, “where the hell are all the cabs?”. Shortly followed by, “If one more person asks me for a dollar I’m not going to have any money for a cab”. After passing a few more boarded up buildings I decide forget the cab I’ll walk. Remembering that EVERYONE told me not to walk around alone, I walk very quickly.
December 13th, 2008, 10:10pm:
Eight blocks later I am downtown. I duck into a trendy looking lounge. There’s an open seat at the bar so I sit and order a beer. After a quick observation of the crowd I realize I am the only patron whom is of white skin color. This I could care less about. After further observation I begin to feel I have interrupted something. When the entire bar, excluding me, begins to sing Happy Birthday to a young lady followed by a round of shots I realize exactly what I have interrupted. I finish my beer and order another. My second round doesn’t seem to sit well with a man few seats down and I feel the vibes. I consider round three but weigh my options and opt for the streets.
December 13th, 2008, 11:15pm
Back on the streets of downtown I decide I have seen enough of Woodward Ave and start rounding some corners. I am reminded of a song by Ghostland Observatory, “Aint No Party In A Sad, Sad City”. I find another bar that is packed with fun people. Again I find a seat at the bar and sample what I am told is a local beer. I notice some great artwork on the walls and decide I like this place. The women to my right seems to be having a great time. She says hello to me and tells me the art is hers. I notice that she is probably in her mid fifties and possibly has cancer on account of her lack of hair. Me being the ultra idiot that I am say to her, “I like your haircut.” Immediately after these words come out of my mouth I realize how fucking insensitive that was. I want to remove my shoe and stuff it down my throat while this women beats me with a 9 iron. Thankfully she laughs hysterically. The women never disclosed whether or not she had cancer but said, “I could die tomorrow, so I’m going to party like I’m twenty one for the rest of my life”, I could only assume she was sick but I was happy to have given her one good laugh while she was still here.
December 13th or possibly 14th, 2008, sometime between 11:45pm and 12:30am:
The group of people I have begun to drink with ask me if I like House music. I reply no. This doesn’t seem to make any difference as I am invited to some sort of rave in a warehouse loft. I go with the flow and find myself double fisting and raving out in Detroit. The details of this party are currently still unclear. I did manage to take a picture… 
December 14th, 2008, sometime between 2:00 and 3:00am:
My next recollection is of trying to get Sun Chips form the vending machine in my hotel lobby.
December 14th, 2008, 8:36am:
I wake up in my hotel room (THANK GOD) and I have missed my flight by one hour. This sucks.
December 14th, 2008, 5:45pm:
After being on standby all day at the airport I get a flight back to Colorado. That was fun! |
