October 11th, 2009

October 11th, 2009, originally uploaded by _ambrown.

Andrew Sullivan didn't post my photo this morning for his infamous "The View From Your Window," so I figured meh, tonight I'd post it myself. My blog has almost the same traffic as the Daily Dish anyway, right?

I'm always apt for saying that summer is my favorite season, but there's something about fall and winter that praises redemption, recycling, reinvigoration. The snow was exciting this morning, and it stuck around all evening. Quite the bike ride into Cedar/Riverside this afternoon.

"I've got this store bought way of saying I'm okay."

Aaron_Brown_Poster_final, originally uploaded by _ambrown.

Here's one of a couple reasons I haven't been blogging much/socializing much lately. I succumbed and got a twitter, though, and i think it's updating on the sidebar of my blog. follow it and hilarity (of the "21st century, urban revivalist technologically-connected-but-emotionally-alienated existentialist crisis state of our privileged-Western World lives in which irony is a vehicle we use to convey the emotion we somehow can't otherwise express" variety) will ensue. I've been taking a bunch of photos with my film camera for a photography class I'm taking at St Kate's, so I have an excuse for those of you who actually read this blog (all four of you) and are wondering where all my photos have gone. They'll get scanned in, eventually, although probably not until December.

The damp days of fall are arriving, and they bring with them the end of the Timbers season, the advent of 40-degree high days, caffeine dependence, and the perfect mindset to listen to a bunch of Mark Kozelek every night before I go to sleep.

Even the most tumultuous of days can conclude peacefully after spending five minutes of listening to crickets and cars from the porch of my apartment at one in the morning. Illness, multitudes of bosses/professors, sleep deprivation and doubt can sure take a stab at confidence and resolve. It sure is a struggle sometimes to keep my head above water sometimes. Yet the satisfaction that accompanies those few moments of clarity and peace of doing my best to keep it all together in silent reflection give me a humbled excitement to wake up in the morning.

Reading Jane Jacobs in Marvin Plaza, or, The Death and Life of Great Macalester Spaces

This'll be published in the mac weekly next week, but I felt particularly proud of it, so I'm publishing it here, unedited, since TMW will likely shorten it.

After an exhausting first week back on campus, I celebrated the end of the week by curling up in the library with a book. I had picked up the recent biography of Jane Jacobs, a 1950’s urban thinker whose community organizing efforts managed to save her Washington Park neighborhood in Manhattan from the bulldozer and from becoming a new highway. Her innovative ways of chronicling, observing, and fighting for urban vitality make her a hero among us urban studies geeks; I’ve personally met people wearing “What Would Jane Jacobs Do?” wristbands and t-shirts. The book frames her life against that of Robert Moses, the urban planner who led the movement for gigantic freeways and contained a autocratic, tyrannical, dictatorship-esque zeal for urban renewal.

I took my seat in the West Gallery on the second floor of the Library and began reading. As I read, my gaze inadvertantly moved towards the new Marvin Plaza, surprisingly empty on a wonderful late-summer afternoon, lying just outside the window. Robert Moses himself would be proud with the exacting manner in which Marvin Plaza was built; during the summer, a set of fences inadvertently appeared, a space on campus was torn down, trees removed, and an expensive new space was introduced to the Macalester community without significant consultation.

This is not to say that Marvin Plaza is not a welcome addition to the community. Nor am I trying to say that an investment in revamping this pivotal location on our campus was a bad idea. In some regards, "the Marv'" is actually pretty cool; it gives an alum a reason to donate a ton of money to the school, it was constructed with some newfangled ecobricks that reduce storm water runoff, and there's an extra set of bike racks. Rather, my concerns with this new plaza lie with what this says about student participation in the design of the physical form of the public spaces we in the Macalester community inhabit.

Sadly, this is only the latest in a series of campus construction projects that seem to have slipped by without much consultation with students. Macalester, as an institution, seems to be on the move. This summer Macalester opened the doors to the Institute for Global Citizenship, which admittedly has its own student council and a few dedicated students involved with the process, but rankles many who STILL wonder just what the heck the building is other than a paean to the International Studies department and a home for Kofi Annan's bust. Last fall, Macalester's environmentally-minded students were shocked to learn about the imminent construction of a cooler system that locked Macalester into a decidedly ungreen future of carbon emissions; MACARES denounced it as "contrary to the vision of promoting collaboration and participation in the development of sustainable and cost-effective infrastructure." And, lest we forget, multiple controversies still exist around the recent construction of the Leonard Center; why couldn't they find the space for a unisex bathroom, why are we parading this gigantic building as a paradigm of ecosensitivity when it's so large, and why did we spent so much on a building (with ridiculously nice accomodations for athletes) when there aren't nearly enough lockers to meet demand for student body? Could these funds have been spent in a manner more consistent with students requests? A different biography of Moses once vividly described him sitting in his office, watching gleefully as giant bulldozers tore through Queens while building his projects. Watching the way this college knocks buildings down, moves 'em around, and builds them up (LEED CERTIFIED!!!), most without substantial student input, it is easy to pessimistically cast Macalester in similar light.

This is a particularly frustrating trend as Macalester gears up for the biggest capital investment in decades. The Fine Arts Center is going to be rebuilt over the next five years. Macalester benefits from having Provost Murray (who knows quite a bit about art) at the helm, and departments have been making plans for the center since we were in elementary school. Yet the construction of the art building is relevant to more than just Art Majors or Professors; performing spaces are currently used by anyone in the Trads, African Music Ensemble, Orchestra, Drama, and other organizations.

I don't want this article to be read as another bland, "I WISH STUDENTS HAD MORE SAY" opinion piece; I wholeheartedly believe that every forward-thinking institution needs a Robert Moses. There's an advantage to having the administration plan certain projects and create long-term visioning goals that a student body (which entirely changes every four years) can't possibly create. I'm the first to admit some of the higher ups are a lot smarter than I am and are making, on the all, generally wise decisions with regards to the future of the college. Macalester is a better place because of the administration's ability to turn visions into goals, projects, and eventually reality.

So how will students get their voice heard? I'm sure that the hyperorganized MACARES will be happy to provide suggestions for reducing carbon footprint and fine arts majors will get the chance to informally voice preferences through their departments, but how thoroughly will the Robert Moses-esque Macalester administration incorporate elements of Jane Jacobs' activism to find out what students outside of the arts department actually would like in that space? An upgraded dark room for photography, a state of the art auditorium ready for 21st century performance, more galleries, more spaces for informal musicians and performances? What if Bad Comedy, MacPlayers, and Fresh Concepts had somewhere better to perform than the dank Dupre basement? There's also a slew of much smaller spaces on campus that students could rally around. I bet students have some good ideas about how to make Macalester more friendly to the differently abled, how to encourage more biking and walking in our community, and where wifi networks are needed most. We only need to be asked.

The consultation process shouldn't just enable particular students who get excited about this sort of stuff to get involved, but rather encourage broad participation from all cross sections of our community. If the administration actively solicited ideas about how to make Marvin Plaza more interesting, I'm sure they would have received a handful of good ideas, a few bad ones, and plenty of ridiculous ones (GIANT SHARK TANK!!). It'd take extra time and resources to survey students, but the delay would ensure alums who generously donate to Macalester knew their contributions were positively impacting the campus. Economists and Political Scientists have devoted careers towards empirically showing the benefits of community visioning and bottom-up decision-making. If you're going to make an investment for students, it seems wise to find out what the students actually want.

In short, I exhort Macalester students to invest time and creative energy into imagining

what you would like to see on campus, and I implore the Macalester administration to invest further in giving students a seat at the table. I'm confident there's enough Jane Jacobs in all of us to cooperatively guide Macalester into the years ahead, and enough Robert Moses in the administration to ensure our collective vision is enacted.

Aaron Brown '10 is the head of the Academic Affairs Commission of MCSG, but here he speaks only for himself. He recommends you pick up a copy of "Wrestling with Moses" written by Anthony Flint, and can be reached at ambrown at macalester edu.

One last fall in the Cities

One last fall in the Cities, originally uploaded by Aaron Michael Brown.

Classes? Tomorrow? Really?

Waldo Lake 2009

Waldo Lake 2009, originally uploaded by Aaron Michael Brown.

"The Northwest fills the lungs, heals the pain in my chest."

Heading back to the midwest via Washington, Idaho, Montana, and North Dakota. While I'll certainly be busy as hell this next semester, I return to Saint Paul recharged, refocused, and ready for my last Minnesotan fall. Highlights of being back at home include the Portland Century ride, the Timbers' unbeaten-in-23-games streak, great weather, the Oregon Coast, getting my friends into The Room (You're tearing me apart, Lisa!), the Safe Routes to School Conference, and of course, camping for the tenth straight year at Waldo Lake.

Things are going to get a little hectic, caffeinated, difficult, and frustrating, but stick with me, dear reader, there will be photos to accompany, and it's going to be a hell of a ride through senior year. Among other obligations, I got a job this semester working as a photographer for college relations, so get ready to see a bunch of photos of happy multicultural macalester kids doing cheesy macalester things. Stick around.

Goal!

Goal!, originally uploaded by Aaron Michael Brown.

Portland Timbers, I missed you.

Breakfast.

Breakfast., originally uploaded by Aaron Michael Brown.

Saudades for Brazil, and mangoes.

Memories of Manzanita

Memories of Manzanita, originally uploaded by Aaron Michael Brown.

I'm so sorry for everything.

I'm so sorry for everything., originally uploaded by Aaron Michael Brown.

"They're like a gin and tonic when you should have been cut off hours ago!"
- 6'3" tall guy that decided to stand right in front of me right before the concert started.


I can't decide to give him credit for a clever remark about The National or to decide that he's some two-bit wannabe clever smug loser, like the guy that stood in front of Woody Allen in line for the movie in Annie Hall. Either way, Matt Beringer and the rest of his sextet showed up in Minneapolis last night, and I was reminded why, over the course of the last two years, their songs ring such a resonant chord in my life. Boxer is an anthem of urban existentialism, class anxiety, and the daunting reality and clarity that comes with staring in a mirror and contemplating the "uninnocent, elegant fall into the unmagnificent lives of adults." I saw them two years ago at the Fine Line, a much smaller bar on the edge of Hennepin, and then only last year at Sasquatch, where their final song was greeted with an immediate onslaught of rain, a shawshank-esque downpour to couple with their last songs "Mr. November" and "About Today." So while I hate to admit it, smug tall guy that stood in front of me for the first half of the concert, I think you're onto something; listening to the National is a past time I took up a lot last year while attempting to shift into a drunken sleep, after having been cut off many drinks ago.

Turn the light out, say good night
no thinking for a little while
let's try not to figure out everything at once,
it's hard to keep track of you, falling through the sky
we're half awake in a fake empire

This year has been fraught with good concerts. I'll try and summarize them with less than a paragraph:

Blind Pilot, Early January Sneaking into the Aladdin Theatre in a pair of stolen bowling shoes, I watched from the balcony as the two-bit band mesmerized the Portland crowd. The show served as a fantastic Portland send-off before my giant trip abroad.
Manu Chao in Sao Paulo, February sometime I greeted some of my study abroad friends at the nearest Metro Station, and we proceded to pay about 2 Reals a shot of nasty listerine-tasting liquor to some street vendor running a bar out of his van that was only too happy to keep raising his prices for a bunch of desperate, drunken Americans. Set in quite possibly the largest theatre I've ever visited, Manu Chao greeted every single Paulista Marijuana smoker with about twelve encores and what felt like four hours of music. Epic night.
Sun Kil Moon, Early May Again with the bowling shoes, back in Portland, I celebrate my birthday by buying myself a single ticket to go see the man, the legend, Mark Kozelek. His concert was one of the strangest I've ever seen; his slowcore chords and baritone voice seemed to envelop the entire audience. He played to a sparce crowd in the Wonder Ballroom, with every attendee standing and staring, relatively motionless, waiting for an old song from the "Red House Painters" days. He rewarded us with "Make Like Paper"; Success!! The room was literally silent between songs, not for lack of an audience, but because, well, who really feels like talking about anything while listening to one of the most depressing people in the world play a drop-d guitar and sing about death, loneliness, and addiction?
Third Eye Blind (hah!), Late May oh, nostalgia. I suppose this concert isn't any different than the Sun Kil Moon show, in that I showed up only to hear specific songs that remind me of specific, irreplaceable and unreplicatable moments of my life, but for most of the third eye blind songs, those moments were collections of moments of doing homework in my room as a middle schooler.
Blind Pilot, June It was great to see Israel, the lead singer, hanging around outside as we walked up to the 400 club. A much smaller venue, the band still brought it, and I wore an Oregon shirt in solidarity.
The National, July I won't fuck us over.
Grizzly Bear and The Weakerthans (forthcoming!), September
Oh wow, the Weakerthans. I've wanted to see them live for the longest time. John Samson has the ridiculous ability to write lyrics about the most obscure anecdotes of modern life (smoke alarms, bus drivers, cracks in the ceiling, "a store-bought way of saying I'm alright") and somehow turning them into telling stories that express emotions weren't aware you were capable of posessing. He's oh so witty.

To be honest, life is good right now. I'm getting paid to do research, pretty much at my own pace, on the Midtown Greenway. I'm about to run a bunch of juicy, exciting multivariate regression models to prove how weather, class, age, status, gender, and all sorts of things are affecting who is on the Greenway, and how they are using the public space. I'm hoping to basically write a "place paper" (IHPers, think of it as a mix between a neighborhood day and a case study) showing some sort of a dialectic relationship between the city at large and this narrow, five mile strip of former-railroad that now carries up to 10,000 bikers a day during the summer.

During Study Abroad, I made a list of things I wanted to accomplish this summer and this fall, and one of them was to keep this blog running, if only to give me a chance to air out my grievances and thoughts. Instead, I just incessantly check Google Reader and wait for a blog about urbanity, music, or whatever express a sentiment I had been thinking about, and then veg around on the couch some more. Perhaps I'll make another go at it.