Showing posts with label Corey Smith. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Corey Smith. Show all posts

Tuesday, October 11, 2011

Brittany Kowalski, Brady Wolchansky, and Corey Smith: GPS Drawing

Our drawing was constructed by randomly chosing cars to follow.  Once we started to follow a car, we trailed it until it reached its destination.  At that point we picked a new car to follow.  The first car took us from MIAD to an apartment near UWM. The next car we followed turned a corner and parked.  The next car took us to a parking lot on the corner of Plankinton Ave and Kilbourn Ave.  Our final car led us to the Aurora West Allis Medical Center on Lincoln Ave.  In our car we discussed if the lead car's driver knew we were following him or her.  In addition, we hypothesized what his or hers destination was.

Our return trip to MIAD was significantly different than our original drawing.  This inspires questions about "the journey" one chooses to take to a destination.  How does one select a route?  How do we navigate?  Major influences include but are not limited to: available modes of transportation, access to technology, environmental factors, time, aesthetics, knowledge, preference, and personal experience.  While navigation is not uniquely human, our relationship with choice and travel is.  

Navigation has evolved from hardwired survival instincts into an amalgamation of complex components embodying individualism.

Thursday, September 22, 2011

Corey Smith: Micro/Macro

An area of Milwaukee I have always found interesting is the plot of land that contains: Wisconsin Paperboard Corporation, Cambridge Dormitory, RC's Beer Garden, the vacant building that used to hold La Piazza, Rotary Centennial Arboretum, and a building whose residence I do not know located between RC's and the vacant bar/grill.  The diversity of usage that occurs on this plot of land draws me to it. Another aspect that hooked me was the odor that is given off by the Wisconsin Paperboard Corporation.

The material object I believe represents this plot is a material itself - cardboard.  Cardboard is part of all of these places.  It comes from trees, it is used to move into and out of dorms, food and drinks are shipped in cardboard packaging, it is used to cover up windows of unused buildings, and it is collected into a giant landscape of cardboard and recycled by the paper mill.  It has the ability to fulfill many uses, and with the right tools it can even transform into anything.





I recently said goodbye to a treasured possession, my first car.  A hand-me-down minivan from my mother.  The piece I have selected is one of the only parts that remains - the vanity plate.  



The plate stands for Creative Connection - the name of my mother's business.  Leaving her job as a social worker she started off on her own as a community artist.  At first Creative Connection helped found an NPO, Family to Family aimed at getting the families of Chapter 220 students and the families of local Whitefish Bay students to spend time together at large picnics centered around sports and art. This entrepreneurial venture designed to bridge the gap between social, geographic, economic, and racial boundaries reminds me of Milwaukee RedLine.  Below, I have inserted quotes from RedLine's website http://www.redlineartmke.org/.

MissionRedLine Milwaukee, a 501(c)(3), is an urban laboratory that seeks to nourish the individual practice of contemporary art and to stimulate the creative potential of the local community to which we are linked. Through residency, education, outreach and challenging exhibition programs with a focus on socially relevant topics, RedLine inspires and impacts new generations of cultural and civic transformers.

What is RedLine?RedLine Milwaukee was founded by local artists Lori Bauman and Steve Vande Zande in October 2009. Goals of professional development, access and social justice are met through RedLine’s Programs: Residency, Exhibition and Education. The 22,000 square foot building includes exhibition space, artist studios, a community printshop and paper making studio, a computer lab, and classrooms. Milwaukee’s only artist-in-residence program, RedLine houses nine emerging artists, five mentoring artists, six teen residents and several visiting artists annually. Additionally, RedLine connects artists with community organizations through workshops, classes, and outreach.





 

Thursday, September 15, 2011

Corey Smith: 3 Days 3 Ways

     My three "walks" took place on three different days, as the title describes.  First, I walked alone, taking copious notes and photographs, during class on Thursday, September 8, 2011 from 4:47pm to 5:40pm. . Second, I re-walked my original route with my friend, David Meinecke, on the night of Sunday, September 11, 2011 from 7:53pm until 9:04pm. Third, I drove as close to my original route as possible Monday, September 12, 2011. The drive lasted from 7:07pm until 7:21pm. Even though I am born and raised here in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, my walks were different than any other walks I have taken before, each with its own unique happenings and experiences.  I began each walk from the parking lot behind the Kenilworth East building.


Map of Walks with River Bank


Walk #1:
Describe the parameters of the walk.
     Here is a transcribed copy of my Walk #1 notes:
"I set out going SW on Prospect.  I stopped in at 'Mystery One' and talked to Richard.  A lot of the discussion was about how I am from and illiterate generation.  I retorted that we are considered the most educated generation, despite that we read the least.  We compromised that technology has changed the world we live in, and book reading, especially novel reading, is a lost art.  He recommended I start by reading The Maltese Falcon. 

 I continued SW until Lafayette.  Turned right, going NW.  I passed a man speaking french to his Scottish Terrier. Nice breese.  I saw a classmate up ahead so I turned left onto Farwell.  I must remain alone.  I ran into John Alford leaving Koppa's Fulbeli Deli.  Its great having so many connections in a city!  I doubled back a block on Farwell to walk John home. My classmate is gone.  Now, I'm going on Lafayette again.  Some guys on their porch who I keep passing are whispering about me.  Just passed Oakland on Farwell [Lafayette].  Dead end into Bartlett.  The sun is now shining right on me.  I'm hot in my sweater.  I can't take the heat.

 I go left on Bartlett.  The city buses and cars keep rumbling past making thumps on the bumps.  Now I'm by a woman leaf blowing.  'WURRRRR!' 'Excuse me, I'm raking my leaves.  Turn right on Irving.  The old man with the big beard who rides his bike, I affectionately named 'Blue' rides his bike past me. Another dead end. Left on Cambridge.  5:09, I hope in on time. I follow the sidewalk around to the right. Now I'm on Boylston.  I can hear crickets as I near the river.  I arrive at Caesar's Park. I think this is how I get to a foot bridge across the river I have often seen, but never crossed. Even though I always wanted to.  Descending the stairs (this is my first vertical movement). On the stairs the city almost dissappears except for the constant noise of the highway, I-43. 15 minutes left. As I cross the foot bridge I can see the Marsupial.  It is very windy on the bridge, so much so, I have to stop to write.  (OH! I have to pee, but I can't here.)  The crickets are louder now.  They live in the brush surrounding the footbridge.

I realize I don't know where this bridge leads.  Two men fish below me.  I walk along a wood chip path away from a dead end toward the Marsupial bridge. I read some signs about DNR Walleye and tags. I pass a red bench with leaves of the area done as graffiti.  I can see my favorite houses in Milwaukee.  I reach a road that runs parallel to the woodchip path.  The road is Riverboat.  I pass 'STUBBY's' and go under a bridge.  Humbolt is above me.  I give directions to a car looking for 'Riverview Dorms'. It's 5:30.  I'm close.  I pick up the pace.  Condo's to my left and right. The CARS are back.  I've seen 6 men with dogs. More crickets on the hill to my right. I'm 150 yds from the bridge now.  And, I don't see my classmates. Riverboat turns into Commerce about 200yds back from the Booth St stairs.  I walk up a ramp towards the bridge. 100 yds.  I see my class in the center of the bridge. I'm ten minutes late, but I enjoyed myself too much to have gone faster.  My class is walking away.  Oh no!  It was 71 degrees f.  Dew point 53 degrees f.  The weather channel say N NE winds, but I think its mostly coming off the lake. I have reached the class. Now we are exchanging notebooks."

Walk #2
     I play competitive Ultimate (frisbee). Many competitive Ultimate players try to throw everyday. An easy way to do this is try to walk with a partner and toss while you walk. For my second walk, I paired up with my teammate and good friend - David Meinecke.  In addition to wanting to throw a disc while I walked, I wanted to walk my route at night, and wanted to follow the buddy system, just in case we encountered some trouble.  Leading someone on my walk felt much different than walking alone.  First off, there was talking.  We talked about the walk, Ultimate, and other small talk like 'If you were an inanimate object, what would you be?'  I often mentioned details to him about my walk, embellishing our journey with experiences from the first.  Walking together created both a bond between David and me and between us and the world around us.  I believe this was the longest walk because not only did we distract one another, but also we experienced separate observations and took time to share them as we walked.
     The world around us was much different at night than during the day.  The sum of this change came down to the fact that considerably wilder animals come out at night.  During the day I saw many dogs with their owners and a few squirrels.  Dog are domestic animals, and squirrels arguably domestic.  At night we saw an entire family of rabbits, heard fish jumping in the river, and listened to a much larger chorus of crickets.  The Marsupial bridge changed the most at night. During the day I saw no animals on the bridge, but at night it is host to hundreds of spiders collecting bugs in their webs.



They line the space between the hand rail and the safety fence.  The biggest ones are over the river. In addition to the spiders, bats swoop down and eat the larger flying insects.  I did not find these animals frightening; however, while we were crossing the foot bridge where I saw people fishing on my previous walk I was scared.  I stopped to take a picture and from a cluster of bushes near the entrance to the bridge we could he men talking.  We pushed forward quickly, since we did not know the intentions of men in the bushes.  We assumed they were homeless people.  I met two last winter who live further north on the river.  Not only are wilder animals out at night, but wilder men are too.  The final sign of things wild was at the end of the Marsupial bridge.  High up on the telephone poll is mounted a beige box.  This box is not so wild itself as it is evidence of trying to control wild human activity.  As we came near the poll, a bright flash was emitted from the box, and a loud speaker chimed 'This is a restricted are. Your photograph has been taken and will be used to prosecute you.'  We thought it strange that the only area we knew of with light up benches was restricted at night.

Walk #3
     I drove my final retracing of my route.  This was by far the fastest of the three, lasting only fourteen minutes. (It should be noted that I did not ride the route via bicycle, which may be faster than driving.) It was like I was in a world with in a world. There was me in my car and my car in world. I rode with the windows up and the radio off. I could hear very little of my surrounding. In fact the only noises I heard were cars and a feint sound of crickets alongside Caesar's Park.  Driving was the most restricted of my modes of transit. Travelling with one other person was slightly restricting because we both had to agree on a decision. Walking alone I was completely free to go where I wanted to. Driving forced me to be on roads, respect one ways, rules of the road, signs, other drivers, etc.  I could not take notes or photographs because I was behind the wheel, driving a manual transmission no less.  The whole experience felt much lonelier and more distant from my surroundings.


"The core idea of experimental geography is that we make the world and, in turn, the world makes us." - Nato Thompson from In Two Directions

      Of the three ways I traveled walking alone gave me the greatest availability to enact the above quote by Nato Thompson.  With two people we added the other person to the equation.  In a car I was barely able to interact with the world, except in restricted ways.  Being alone exploring was exciting. It energized me to go where the journey took me.  I have ADHD and I often "go with the flow". This is both a positive like during this experience, but it can be negative like when I become distracted from accomplishing tasks because of the world around me. The idea at the core of experimental geography is extremely important to investigate particularly as we struggle with becoming a global community influenced by more media and technology than geography.

Corey Smith: Personal/Public

This story is one that only a handful of people have ever been told.  A narrative of teenage love and death defying immaturity.

 After a Whitefish Bay High School volleyball open gym on a beautiful late summer night in August 2005, I drive my best friend Courtney and her fling Mike to their respective homes.  Their summer romance, wrought with the wisdom of teenage hearts, is going less than well.  Naturally, Courtney and I had devised a plan in which I would take her home first, giving me the opportunity to talk man to man with Mike.  After my investigation I would pick Courtney up again to share the scoop.

The plan works flawlessly.  Now that I have Mike alone, I get my Sherlock Holmes on, teasing out his intentions for my dear friend.  At this point I need to mention, I totally have a crush on Courtney, but have been relegated to the "friend zone".  Not only does Mike reveal he is not interested in pursuing anything more, but also he asks me to deliver the break up to Courtney.  

My id erupts with fantasies of a fated hook up between Courtney and I.  Simultaneously my heart sinks knowing I have to tell Courtney the bad news.  Drive around Whitefish Bay, I explain the fate of her relationship.  Awash with emotion, she rants about his narcissism.  If I'm going to make my move, I need her attention to be on me.  Well, all seventeen year old boys know the best way to get a girls attention  is by attempting a dangerous and ill-advised high speed maneuver while behind the wheel.  Oh, to be young.

Cresting the hill on N Larkin St, I downshift my father's metallic emerald green, 5 speed, 1998 Honda Accord. My pituitary gland fires flushing me with adrenaline.  I let off the gas at about 40 mph.  Courtney, frantic, asks "What are you doing?!"  She hates when I drive fast.  Approaching the right hand turn onto N Cumberland Blvd, I cut the wheel.  The car is under-steering.  I have made this turn at high speeds before, but who knows what went wrong this time: driving to fast, turning to late, a heavier car is harder to turn?  Tires screeching, we careen around the bend.  For a moment I think "I got it!" Then the rear left tire hops the small curb of the boulevard.  Neither one of us makes a sound - the shit has hit the fan.  Our perception of time slows to a crawl as it does in times of crisis.  The car over-steers.  We are pointing at the houses on the East side of the street.  Nearing missing trees, we drive diagonally up the ramp of a driveway, still hurling towards the houses at 35 mph.  I manage to regain control straightening out on the sidewalk.  This would be good had it not been for Cumberland Blvd being a curved road.  Now we aren't just on shit creek; we're whitewater rafting it.

We begin to decelerate. 30 mph - another close call with a rock retaining wall on our right.  25 mph -  trees blur past our left side.  20 mph - we begin to fishtail into hedgerow.  Finally we come to a stop.  Neither one of us speaks.  I try to back out, but the engine has turned off.  I start the car, shift into reverse, and let the clutch, killing the engine.  I try again, success.  I back out onto the road.  In a brief moment of comedy, it appears as though we are perfectly stopped at a stop sign, like nothing had gone wrong.  We sirens blaring towards us.  "Are you okay?" I ask.  Courtney replies "Ya, except that you almost killed me!" I fearfully acknowledge "It is time to go."  

I pull over one block North on Cumblerland Blvd.  Just as I rip the big stick protruding from the intake of my car, a cop car races past us.  He stops at the intersection twenty feet from us.  Courtney freaks "What do we do?"  Calmly I look at her and say "Grab my hand and walk toward the house across the street.  Everything will be okay."  

And everything was okay.  The car sustained a minor 4" crease on the front left quarter panel above the tire.  I told my father that no one was hurt, no one else was involved, and lets never talk about it again, and we didn't.  Courtney forgot all about Mike faced with her own mortality.  I never drove recklessly again.  The police didn't know who had the accident.  The residents replanted the dead bushes.  The replanted bushes never reached the same height as the ones that stopped my car, serving as a reminder of our near death experience.  Courtney and I are still good friends, but in the end, holding her hand that night was the closest we ever got to being more than friends.

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