I can't believe how lucky Richmond is to have gotten the UCI bike races.
Despite the bellyaching, fear-mongering and general trash-talking that's been going on for the past four days, the fact is that we've got an athletic event of global proportions happening on our front doorstep and it's nothing short of amazing.
Anticipating that having a bike-savvy buddy with me to answer my questions would enhance my experience, I invited a favorite cyclist to join me for an afternoon of race-watching. We met at my place and then began our adventure by walking over to the starting line at Third and Broad Streets just before everything got underway for the afternoon.
On the way, I positively glowed seeing the crowd dining and drinking al fresco in front of Max's. Back when I'd been part of the Ephemeral Plan: Brook Road, one of our suggestions had been to close off that stretch for outdoor dining. It was incredibly gratifying seeing it happening.
My biking ignorance was immediately on view since I'd had no clue that the racers came down a ramp to start their ride. It was particularly cool watching the camera on a crane follow them out of the gate and onto Third Street.
What I quickly figured out was that the spectators' role was to make as much noise as possible. Since we'd brought neither cowbells nor noisemakers, we resorted to clapping and shouting every time a cyclist went by.
And here's where my lack of knowledge reared its ugly head again. Who knew that each cyclist was preceded by a motorcycle cop and followed by a car (s) with extra bikes and bike parts?
But easily the coolest job, assuming you have nerves of steel, an adrenaline addiction and a core of sheer muscle, was the cameraman standing on a motorcycle behind the driver, filming the individual bike rider. Kids, you, too, can grow up to do this!
After watching a half dozen cyclists roll down the starting line, we made tracks for another vantage point: the corner of Belvidere and Broad where they had to make a wide left turn. But the best left turn was the one from Laurel onto Main, where they whizzed by the Altria Theater and almost took the paint of the fencing barricades where we were standing.
A woman nearby had been steadily taking pictures of them doing this sharp left and my companion began doing the same. Me, I just watched, fascinated, as these women took the turn, their bikes barely a foot and a half from the barricades. So close.
From there, we made our way down to Belvidere and Main to watch the riders begin the windy sweep over the Lee Bridge. It was here I first noticed the serious leg sweat on the cyclists. Despite the cloud cover, steady wind and cooler temperatures, these women were working it. Hard.
Next we started toward Broad on our way to watch the last leg of the course which includes bombing Main Street (and against the street's usual westward direction), climbing a steep hill on Governor's Street behind the executive mansion, a "false flat" once they turned onto Broad Street ('cause you're still coming up the last of the ascent from the Bottom) and the finish line at Fifth.
Along the way, cops smiled and said hello, friendly blue-shirted volunteers helped us cross streets like elementary school safety patrols and friends - the scuba diver, the urban planner, the gallerist, the vintage store owner -said hello.
It was like one big city-wide party.
Occasionally we passed people carrying on with the business of life, like the construction worker telling his buddies about how dehydrated his friend got after a night of drinking. "He put a Tums in his mouth before he went to bed and when he woke up, it was still there."
You don't say?
Watching the riders come down Main Street was thrilling for my biking companion and terrifying for me. They had to be going 40 mph, yet they had to brake for the sharp left onto Governor's Street and then work it up that hill.
As I was walking up it, a man with a microphone and press credentials pointed at my shirt - "Virginia is for Wine Lovers" - and said, "My wife would kill for that shirt." Luckily she wasn't around.
Everywhere, we saw people holding flags of other countries, waving them as riders went by. Cheering was mostly in English, despite the fact that so many cyclists spoke other languages. We even overheard some guys discussing whether or not the cyclists wanted people to make noise or be silent so they could concentrate.
"Are you kidding?" one said incredulously. "They want us to make noise!" Duh. Come on, the flippin' ABC was giving away cow bells to help the noise-making effort.
By the time they got up that hill and turned onto the "false flat," you could tell they were tired, or, at least, not as fresh as they'd been at the starting line. The crowds were much bigger near the finish line than any we'd seen, with spectators in the elevated VIP section and others comfortably ensconced at the usually empty T. Miller's patio in front of the Marriott.
We stopped to cheer on some of the cyclists reaching the end, but, let's face it, that's probably the least interesting part of the time trials to watch as a spectator.
In front of Eureka Workshop, we chatted with one of its staffers, who said she'd been interviewed by one of the TV stations about how the businesses along Broad were being affected by the race. Refusing to agree that the race was ruining business, she made a point to be upbeat about it all.
Of course, the reporter did her best to bait her - was it chaos? impossible to navigate?- and when she responded incredulously, they'd done a hatchet job in editing that made her sound far more negative than she'd actually been.
Likewise, when we got back from the races after walking nearly five miles and spending four hours watching the best cyclists I've ever seen, I was greeted by screeds from local media outlets bemoaning the low local attendance at area restaurants this week.
Seems all the business lately has been thanks to foreign visitors while the locals are staying away in droves. How idiotic of them.
The fact is, the city isn't hard to navigate, even with some road closures and there's a surprising abundance of parking spaces all over town. Some of us - gasp - are even walking the city to catch the races and it's been a blast.
Some cities would kill for an influx of cosmopolitan tourists and world-class athletes. Friends, if you're not taking advantage of this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, the loss is yours.
We're talking half-empty restaurants and world-class leg sweat here. It's our moment in the sun, Richmond. Why on earth wouldn't we enjoy every minute of it?
You know I am.
Showing posts with label The Ephemeral Plan: Brook Road. Show all posts
Showing posts with label The Ephemeral Plan: Brook Road. Show all posts
Wednesday, September 23, 2015
Saturday, June 21, 2014
Alive with Possibility
Oh, the streets were alive, that's for sure.
The second annual RVA Streets Alive! had decided to take over my neighborhood, so by the time I left for my walk at noon, it was in full swing.
I can always get behind the idea of closing streets to cars so people can walk, run, bike, skate or exercise in them and I always enjoy seeing so many people in Jackson Ward when it's not First Friday.
Tony, the gregarious sandwich maker at Nick's Market, stood just inside the glass door, and gave me a big smile and wave as I walked by, trying to lure me in but I was barely half an hour past breakfast.
A unicyclist wobbled down the street, Black Girls Run! had a table and a group of people were sparring, boxing gloves looking huge on their hands.
At Steady Sounds, guys were pawing through discounted record bins while I stopped to chat with Lauren, proprietor of Blue Bones Vintage, a pop-up shop for now but I was thrilled to hear she's looking for a spot in the Arts District to open a brick and mortar shop to sell her gently used flannel shirts and hippie togs.
There was a group spinning and lifting hand weights while a perky, pony-tailed woman led them through their paces.
Another group was going through a dance/exercise routine to a generic auto-tuned pop song that I'd thankfully never heard before while a gaggle of onlookers watched them.
The River City Rollergirls were weaving in and out of each other on the block between 1st and 2nd Streets, showing none of the aggression they do in a match, but demonstrating that skating takes good leg muscles.
Since I walk and work out every day, I wasn't inclined to stop and participate in any of the activities, although the booth giving chair massages held a lot of appeal, so the highlight for me was the triangle at Adams and Broad.
I'd spent four evenings back in February as part of a neighborhood group addressing "The Ephemeral Plan: Brook Road," a project to re-conceive the triangle as a more inviting public space.
Today I finally got to see some of the results of our month-long sessions. Large sculptural letters spelled out "LOVE" facing Broad Street. Public picnic tables lined Brook Road facing Max's and available for all. Pots of greenery and flowers sat ready to be planted around the platforms under the enormous tree that defines the space.
You know what brings the streets alive in my neighborhood? Seeing the fruits of our winter efforts changing the complexion and perception of Jackson Ward on a summer day.
So proud.
The second annual RVA Streets Alive! had decided to take over my neighborhood, so by the time I left for my walk at noon, it was in full swing.
I can always get behind the idea of closing streets to cars so people can walk, run, bike, skate or exercise in them and I always enjoy seeing so many people in Jackson Ward when it's not First Friday.
Tony, the gregarious sandwich maker at Nick's Market, stood just inside the glass door, and gave me a big smile and wave as I walked by, trying to lure me in but I was barely half an hour past breakfast.
A unicyclist wobbled down the street, Black Girls Run! had a table and a group of people were sparring, boxing gloves looking huge on their hands.
At Steady Sounds, guys were pawing through discounted record bins while I stopped to chat with Lauren, proprietor of Blue Bones Vintage, a pop-up shop for now but I was thrilled to hear she's looking for a spot in the Arts District to open a brick and mortar shop to sell her gently used flannel shirts and hippie togs.
There was a group spinning and lifting hand weights while a perky, pony-tailed woman led them through their paces.
Another group was going through a dance/exercise routine to a generic auto-tuned pop song that I'd thankfully never heard before while a gaggle of onlookers watched them.
The River City Rollergirls were weaving in and out of each other on the block between 1st and 2nd Streets, showing none of the aggression they do in a match, but demonstrating that skating takes good leg muscles.
Since I walk and work out every day, I wasn't inclined to stop and participate in any of the activities, although the booth giving chair massages held a lot of appeal, so the highlight for me was the triangle at Adams and Broad.
I'd spent four evenings back in February as part of a neighborhood group addressing "The Ephemeral Plan: Brook Road," a project to re-conceive the triangle as a more inviting public space.
Today I finally got to see some of the results of our month-long sessions. Large sculptural letters spelled out "LOVE" facing Broad Street. Public picnic tables lined Brook Road facing Max's and available for all. Pots of greenery and flowers sat ready to be planted around the platforms under the enormous tree that defines the space.
You know what brings the streets alive in my neighborhood? Seeing the fruits of our winter efforts changing the complexion and perception of Jackson Ward on a summer day.
So proud.
Wednesday, February 26, 2014
Guerrilla Gypsy Music
It was the grand finale of my four-week foray into tactical urbanism.
For the last of the meetings dedicated to "The Ephemeral Plan: Brook Road," the hardworking cadre of neighbors, local workers and city officials was treated to food from Max's on Broad.
Country pate, olive tapenade and salumi with grilled bread, roast beef sliders, cheese, flat bread and fruit were laid out in abundance before tonight's conclusion-drawing began.
Eating with half my favorite J-Ward couple, the other half being home and under the weather, I heard about their recent trip to snow country featuring cross country skiing and moonshine, although not at the same time. At least I'm pretty sure.
After three weeks of brainstorming, sketching, site trips and endless discussion, all the groups' suggestions had been synthesized into one simple plan for small scale, temporary interventions to reshape and improve the triangle at Brook and Broad Streets.
Many, but not all, of my group's bright ideas made it onto the final design: closing Brook Road at Broad with large planters, using the closed-off street for public tables and chairs, adding a colorful triangular crosswalk to make it safer and easier to cross Adams and Brook and painting a bright circle to delineate an area for public speaking.
But it was in the discussion that ensued that some of the design was refined to a point closer to what it needs to be, at least in my opinion as a nearly eight-year resident of Jackson Ward.
The people who made it to the fourth session are, like me, committed to being part of the movement that changes the look and function of that gateway to our neighborhood, so much so that at the end one woman raised her hand and asked point blank, "Okay, what do we need to do now to start making some of this happen?"
Answer: bypass some of the legal rigmarole and go guerrilla on the changes. Paint the circle and see what happens. Do the crosswalks in colorful chalk or tempera paint before a first Friday art walk and then count the people who use it.
Short story? Go Gandhi and be the change you want to see in theworld 'hood.
In doing so, we'll be instruments of my favorite new term, tactical urbanism, changing how an area is perceived or currently works.
If any area could use a change in both, it's our little triangle. Now we just have ti figure out how we can paint a three-way intersection without being run over in the process.
But that's a problem for another week, so after bidding farewell to all the new neighbors I've met over the past month, I took my hired mouth to meet a friend and have some grub.
It wasn't difficult to talk him into joining me, either, because he's had some major goings-on in his life lately and desperately needed a distraction.
I can be the queen of diversions or so I've been told.
Once I finished the work portion of the night, I talked him into making tracks for Balliceaux because if I was sure of anything, it was that a) he never makes time to go out for music and b) he'd never heard Romanian gypsy music live.
We took care of two birds with one stone by finding seats moments before the Richmanian Ramblers began their set.
I don't care how much you have on your mind or how many things are weighing on your shoulders, it's practically impossible to refrain from tapping your feet or fingers once the tavern music of Romania starts playing.
Every song's a drinking song, every song has a call to the crowd to toast or dance or somehow participate in the shared revelry, whether it's a song about not paying the ferryman, how wine tastes or dancing with too many partners.
It doesn't hurt that the band's sound is rich, combining clarinet, upright bass, accordions, violin, drum, tambourine and guitar for rollicking melodies that finally got a couple up and dancing around the room by the last song.
I probably should have grabbed my friend, clapped a hand on his shoulder and started dancing him around the room to make him forget all about the present craziness in his life. Or more likely, make him laugh hysterically at my attempted gypsy dance moves.
See: Stevie Nicks.
What's a little personal embarrassment when ensuring a friend has a fun night when he needs it most?
For the last of the meetings dedicated to "The Ephemeral Plan: Brook Road," the hardworking cadre of neighbors, local workers and city officials was treated to food from Max's on Broad.
Country pate, olive tapenade and salumi with grilled bread, roast beef sliders, cheese, flat bread and fruit were laid out in abundance before tonight's conclusion-drawing began.
Eating with half my favorite J-Ward couple, the other half being home and under the weather, I heard about their recent trip to snow country featuring cross country skiing and moonshine, although not at the same time. At least I'm pretty sure.
After three weeks of brainstorming, sketching, site trips and endless discussion, all the groups' suggestions had been synthesized into one simple plan for small scale, temporary interventions to reshape and improve the triangle at Brook and Broad Streets.
Many, but not all, of my group's bright ideas made it onto the final design: closing Brook Road at Broad with large planters, using the closed-off street for public tables and chairs, adding a colorful triangular crosswalk to make it safer and easier to cross Adams and Brook and painting a bright circle to delineate an area for public speaking.
But it was in the discussion that ensued that some of the design was refined to a point closer to what it needs to be, at least in my opinion as a nearly eight-year resident of Jackson Ward.
The people who made it to the fourth session are, like me, committed to being part of the movement that changes the look and function of that gateway to our neighborhood, so much so that at the end one woman raised her hand and asked point blank, "Okay, what do we need to do now to start making some of this happen?"
Answer: bypass some of the legal rigmarole and go guerrilla on the changes. Paint the circle and see what happens. Do the crosswalks in colorful chalk or tempera paint before a first Friday art walk and then count the people who use it.
Short story? Go Gandhi and be the change you want to see in the
In doing so, we'll be instruments of my favorite new term, tactical urbanism, changing how an area is perceived or currently works.
If any area could use a change in both, it's our little triangle. Now we just have ti figure out how we can paint a three-way intersection without being run over in the process.
But that's a problem for another week, so after bidding farewell to all the new neighbors I've met over the past month, I took my hired mouth to meet a friend and have some grub.
It wasn't difficult to talk him into joining me, either, because he's had some major goings-on in his life lately and desperately needed a distraction.
I can be the queen of diversions or so I've been told.
Once I finished the work portion of the night, I talked him into making tracks for Balliceaux because if I was sure of anything, it was that a) he never makes time to go out for music and b) he'd never heard Romanian gypsy music live.
We took care of two birds with one stone by finding seats moments before the Richmanian Ramblers began their set.
I don't care how much you have on your mind or how many things are weighing on your shoulders, it's practically impossible to refrain from tapping your feet or fingers once the tavern music of Romania starts playing.
Every song's a drinking song, every song has a call to the crowd to toast or dance or somehow participate in the shared revelry, whether it's a song about not paying the ferryman, how wine tastes or dancing with too many partners.
It doesn't hurt that the band's sound is rich, combining clarinet, upright bass, accordions, violin, drum, tambourine and guitar for rollicking melodies that finally got a couple up and dancing around the room by the last song.
I probably should have grabbed my friend, clapped a hand on his shoulder and started dancing him around the room to make him forget all about the present craziness in his life. Or more likely, make him laugh hysterically at my attempted gypsy dance moves.
See: Stevie Nicks.
What's a little personal embarrassment when ensuring a friend has a fun night when he needs it most?
Wednesday, February 19, 2014
Three Way Solution
The weather shifts, the plan develops.
Last week, trudging over to Gallery 5 for session two of "The Ephemeral Plan: Brook Road," I was bundled up to my eyeballs, wearing boots and carrying an umbrella against the swirling snowflakes.
Tonight I had on leggings, a lightweight jacket and as I walked up the street, smelled the meaty, delicious aroma of a neighbor grilling in the 69-degree evening air.
What a difference a week makes.
This was the third installment of working to refine our plans for remaking the triangle at Brook and Adams Street in Jackson Ward.
My usual partners in crime were absent due to a work dinner, but with one woman from last week's group and her friend, we formed a new group and were assigned a facilitator, a woman who worked at City Hall.
With four women comprising the group, we had no choice but to call ourselves the Girl Power group.
Usually food is provided but tonight's supplier, Porkchops and Grits, had had a kitchen mishap so had been unable to fuel us. Ergo, there was some major stomach growling during tonight's session.
The trade-off was that one of the directors at Virginia Repertory Company a block away joined us, and offered everyone in the room two tickets to see the current production of "Tartuffe." Major score since I'd wanted to see it anyway.
The fates give and the fates take away.
Back to the matter at hand, after a short discussion period we took a field trip to the triangle to figure out which parts of our plan were most important and which were pie in the sky.
It was time to get realistic because next week is the last week to come up with a final design.
It wasn't our first foray on site but this time we oriented ourselves north, facing the Emrick Flats, home to the missing two members of our team.
Only then did we realize the symmetry of it all. We were standing on a triangular island, facing a triangular building and needing to connect the blocks with crosswalks.
Sketching out the requisite walkways formed a third triangle and that's when we all collectively smacked our foreheads.
What we needed was a street mural, a triangular, colorful way to delineate the walkways, serve as a gateway to Jackson Ward and give a visual alert to cars that this was a pedestrian-heavy area.
It must have been a terrific idea because when we shared it with the other two groups, they said so, marveling at the simplicity and brilliance of it.
One woman suggested it be a collaborative effort, with different people and groups painting separate sections within a greater whole. Art 180! Gallery 5! Virginia Repertory! Maggie Walker! Black History Museum!
A focal point for the new interactive plaza we'd envisioned at the triangle, a place with public tables and chairs, a circular bench under the huge, old oak tree, terraced steps around the perimeter for seating and a small performance space.
It was like the warm weather had brought about not only the luxury of wearing fewer clothes but the best of our creativity.
Estrogen, forging new possibilities all over Jackson Ward. Hungry women get it done.
Last week, trudging over to Gallery 5 for session two of "The Ephemeral Plan: Brook Road," I was bundled up to my eyeballs, wearing boots and carrying an umbrella against the swirling snowflakes.
Tonight I had on leggings, a lightweight jacket and as I walked up the street, smelled the meaty, delicious aroma of a neighbor grilling in the 69-degree evening air.
What a difference a week makes.
This was the third installment of working to refine our plans for remaking the triangle at Brook and Adams Street in Jackson Ward.
My usual partners in crime were absent due to a work dinner, but with one woman from last week's group and her friend, we formed a new group and were assigned a facilitator, a woman who worked at City Hall.
With four women comprising the group, we had no choice but to call ourselves the Girl Power group.
Usually food is provided but tonight's supplier, Porkchops and Grits, had had a kitchen mishap so had been unable to fuel us. Ergo, there was some major stomach growling during tonight's session.
The trade-off was that one of the directors at Virginia Repertory Company a block away joined us, and offered everyone in the room two tickets to see the current production of "Tartuffe." Major score since I'd wanted to see it anyway.
The fates give and the fates take away.
Back to the matter at hand, after a short discussion period we took a field trip to the triangle to figure out which parts of our plan were most important and which were pie in the sky.
It was time to get realistic because next week is the last week to come up with a final design.
It wasn't our first foray on site but this time we oriented ourselves north, facing the Emrick Flats, home to the missing two members of our team.
Only then did we realize the symmetry of it all. We were standing on a triangular island, facing a triangular building and needing to connect the blocks with crosswalks.
Sketching out the requisite walkways formed a third triangle and that's when we all collectively smacked our foreheads.
What we needed was a street mural, a triangular, colorful way to delineate the walkways, serve as a gateway to Jackson Ward and give a visual alert to cars that this was a pedestrian-heavy area.
It must have been a terrific idea because when we shared it with the other two groups, they said so, marveling at the simplicity and brilliance of it.
One woman suggested it be a collaborative effort, with different people and groups painting separate sections within a greater whole. Art 180! Gallery 5! Virginia Repertory! Maggie Walker! Black History Museum!
A focal point for the new interactive plaza we'd envisioned at the triangle, a place with public tables and chairs, a circular bench under the huge, old oak tree, terraced steps around the perimeter for seating and a small performance space.
It was like the warm weather had brought about not only the luxury of wearing fewer clothes but the best of our creativity.
Estrogen, forging new possibilities all over Jackson Ward. Hungry women get it done.
Wednesday, February 12, 2014
Last Train to Snowsville
Did I go out in winter storm Pax? Well, of course I did.
It was once again time for the Ephemeral Plan: Brook Road, week two of our neighborhood get-together to brainstorm how to turn the triangle at Brook and Adams into the local hot spot.
Naturally I was one of the first arrivals, fine by me since this evening's food had just arrived. Tonight Comfort had supplied slices of country ham, a mound of pimento cheese the size of my head, Ritz crackers and housemade pickles.
My favorite Jackson Ward couple soon showed up, dusting snow off their shoulders, and joining me in some pre-spitballing fare.
Talking about country hams, my friend shared a story about a Virginian who sent her California in-laws a Smithfield country ham, only to eventually hear back from them that they'd thrown it away after one taste because it was so salty, not to mention how moldy it looked on the outside.
Well, duh, that's the point. Leave it to left coasters not to grasp the concept of east coast pig.
None of us had any problem downing our salty ham and sinfully rich pimento cheese-slathered Ritz especially when complemented by the tartness of the pickle slices eaten between bites.
Then it was down to business but because half of last week's turnout were being snow wimps this week, we had only two groups instead of five.
Tonight's plan was to fine tune last week's bright ideas to get closer to what will be the final plan for the triangle.
Fortunately, we didn't have anyone in our group foolhardy enough to suggest taking down the century-old oak tree as a few people had done last week.
We worked through all the issues, spending a lot of time on lighting and greenery, two key components to making the area feel safer and more inviting.
I got creative, suggesting a video projection wall with changing kinetic imagery courtesy of VCU students and a vertical bike rack designed by the winner of a contest among sculpture students to go on Adams Street.
Yea, that's me, full of big ideas.
Much as I love and support the idea of public fruit trees, even I had to admit that they're messy and attract birds who poop all over the place and that isn't going to help us attract anyone to the neighborhood.
Never mind, I'll work on someone else to get public fruit trees planted in some of our many vacant lots.
Tonight we also got into the details of the planters we want to see closing off Brook Road and scattered among the public tables taking up the public piazza in what was formerly the street.
One woman even suggested a rain barrel so we could have a green water source for watering all those planters.
As we envisioned the triangle becoming a food cart stop, an Etsy pop-up marketplace or a free wi-fi destination, it became pretty obvious that a major snowstorm is no deterrent for the kind of people who want a say in shaping their 'hood.
By the time we'd turned in our sketches and plan details, we were all feeling mighty pleased with ourselves and our snowy evening's work.
My friends headed home but since I already knew the Heavy Midgets album release show at Balliceaux tonight had been canceled, I thought I'd at least make one last stop at Comfort for a drink and dessert.
Except they turned out to be among the snow wimps. Closed due to snow.
Oh, well, I suppose I can always stay home for the evening and read more of Peter Guralnick's "Last Train to Memphis." Gotta admit, I'm curious to see how things turn out for this Elvis kid.
How about that, an evening at home reading.
I might be able to pull this off for one night, but these snow wimps better get their acts together before tomorrow night.
That's all I have to say.
It was once again time for the Ephemeral Plan: Brook Road, week two of our neighborhood get-together to brainstorm how to turn the triangle at Brook and Adams into the local hot spot.
Naturally I was one of the first arrivals, fine by me since this evening's food had just arrived. Tonight Comfort had supplied slices of country ham, a mound of pimento cheese the size of my head, Ritz crackers and housemade pickles.
My favorite Jackson Ward couple soon showed up, dusting snow off their shoulders, and joining me in some pre-spitballing fare.
Talking about country hams, my friend shared a story about a Virginian who sent her California in-laws a Smithfield country ham, only to eventually hear back from them that they'd thrown it away after one taste because it was so salty, not to mention how moldy it looked on the outside.
Well, duh, that's the point. Leave it to left coasters not to grasp the concept of east coast pig.
None of us had any problem downing our salty ham and sinfully rich pimento cheese-slathered Ritz especially when complemented by the tartness of the pickle slices eaten between bites.
Then it was down to business but because half of last week's turnout were being snow wimps this week, we had only two groups instead of five.
Tonight's plan was to fine tune last week's bright ideas to get closer to what will be the final plan for the triangle.
Fortunately, we didn't have anyone in our group foolhardy enough to suggest taking down the century-old oak tree as a few people had done last week.
We worked through all the issues, spending a lot of time on lighting and greenery, two key components to making the area feel safer and more inviting.
I got creative, suggesting a video projection wall with changing kinetic imagery courtesy of VCU students and a vertical bike rack designed by the winner of a contest among sculpture students to go on Adams Street.
Yea, that's me, full of big ideas.
Much as I love and support the idea of public fruit trees, even I had to admit that they're messy and attract birds who poop all over the place and that isn't going to help us attract anyone to the neighborhood.
Never mind, I'll work on someone else to get public fruit trees planted in some of our many vacant lots.
Tonight we also got into the details of the planters we want to see closing off Brook Road and scattered among the public tables taking up the public piazza in what was formerly the street.
One woman even suggested a rain barrel so we could have a green water source for watering all those planters.
As we envisioned the triangle becoming a food cart stop, an Etsy pop-up marketplace or a free wi-fi destination, it became pretty obvious that a major snowstorm is no deterrent for the kind of people who want a say in shaping their 'hood.
By the time we'd turned in our sketches and plan details, we were all feeling mighty pleased with ourselves and our snowy evening's work.
My friends headed home but since I already knew the Heavy Midgets album release show at Balliceaux tonight had been canceled, I thought I'd at least make one last stop at Comfort for a drink and dessert.
Except they turned out to be among the snow wimps. Closed due to snow.
Oh, well, I suppose I can always stay home for the evening and read more of Peter Guralnick's "Last Train to Memphis." Gotta admit, I'm curious to see how things turn out for this Elvis kid.
How about that, an evening at home reading.
I might be able to pull this off for one night, but these snow wimps better get their acts together before tomorrow night.
That's all I have to say.
Thursday, February 6, 2014
A Toast to the Triangle Teams
The accidental hump day, an evening in three scenes.
Scene one in which an invitation last night for a drink tonight had been accepted when a quick check of my calendar showed absolutely nothing on the books.
Fast forward to 10:50 this morning, ten minutes after getting up, when I get an invitation to something called "The Ephemeral Plan: Brook Road" and immediately sense that I must be there.
Our cocktail hour is moved up to accommodate my ephemera and we meet at Lemaire for Simonet Blanc de Blanc and so that I can hear about the state of her love life, the good, bad and ugly.
When my advice is solicited, I suggest a full frontal attack using the truth to let her beloved know what's bothering her.
While it seems unlikely she'll take my advice, she at least acknowledges its value.
Proceed to scene two, in which I prove that while I'm not an urban planner, I can play one with neighbors.
Tonight is the first of four sessions held at Gallery 5 to brainstorm what to do with the triangle at Brook and Adams in Jackson Ward, an island neither inviting nor usable (except to skateboarders), in part due to the weird traffic tearing around it.
Urban studies graduate student Josh Son has convened the group of neighbors and people who work in the neighborhood to help him develop ideas for making that corner of Brook Road more of an asset to the ward.
Wisely, he has arranged for food so we begin with fried chicken and dill potato salad from Saison, a chance to meet people while chewing with our mouths full.
My favorite neighborhood couple is there and we meet another couple, much younger, who share tantalizing tales of the view they have into nearby apartments. There are stories of hot tubs and sculpture and few curtains. Our group has formed itself.
From the evening's director, Josh, we hear about Brook Road's history as a turnpike from the farms of the counties into the big city, seeing old photographs that document this past, followed by photos of similar revitalization projects in places like Philly and Brooklyn.
He shows us a 45-minute condensed video of the triangle, a blur of pedestrian, bike and speeding car traffic, a testament to the need for change in this corner of the 'hood.
Thus inspired, we break into our groups to take a field trip to the triangle with two designated artists and two designated writers (no points for guessing which one I was).
On site with clipboards, paper and pencils, we note what exists there now, what the challenges are and what solutions we imagine to make this a more habitable space.
With no constraints, we talk big and imagine bigger.
We see terraced steps on all three sides providing seating under the large, old oak tree in the center of the triangle.
Our vision includes a circular stone bench around the tree once low-branch pruning is done and up-lighting to highlight what is undoubtedly the largest tree on Broad Street from Belvidere to MCV.
There would be flower gardens in large containers in two of the corners for color and contemplation.
We want a local sculptor to create a piece that incorporates a fountain where people could fill water bottles, like the ones they have in Europe.
Emboldened, we decide that the stretch of Brook Road next to the triangle needs to be closed to vehicular traffic to create a piazza for tables, chairs and umbrellas (and, as a bonus, create three additional parking spaces on Broad) so people could bring food, books or coffee and have a place to linger.
We see Max's on Broad putting cafe tables on the stretch of sidewalk next to the restaurant. New crosswalks and handicapped access ramps so that everyone can safely get to and use the space.
As we're busily discussing all this, Max's owner approaches us, clearly curious about what we're up to.
My friend warns me not to tell him because he'll disapprove, but I share anyway, explaining that his valet parking will have to move elsewhere and laying out the whole cafe culture we've imagined for this area.
He's immediately on board with the idea of closing Brook right there and having a pedestrian area with tables separate from his own.
When we return to Gallery 5, it is to hear each of the six groups' plans for re-developing Brook.
Our little group, the "corner collective" as we've dubbed ourselves, is appalled when two of the groups' plans begin by taking down the oak tree.
Almost in unison, the five of us protest, insisting we will chain ourselves to the oak before we let it be taken down. We are nothing if not passionate.
Our group presents our ideas and the remaining groups theirs, including one who plainly said that our idea for terraced steps to provide seating is an outstanding one.
All of a sudden, two hours have passed and we are at the end of tonight's session. The only thing left is to sign up for which arena - connectivity, shade/light, greenery, gathering- we want to work on next week as the plans are further refined and developed.
So while the evening should be over, it isn't.
A guy joins our group from another and soon we are discussing ideas for the triangle again. That segues into talk of the neighborhood and who's eaten where and how they liked it.
Which leads us to scene three, wherein I mention it's pupusa night at Saison and the Irish Catholic suggests the four of us adjourn there to see what kind of pupusas are on the menu tonight.
Mushroom with queso fresca and pork belly with guasano, that's what.
It matters not to me, since my standard response is always that I'll take one of each.
While we're all eating crispy, warm pupusas, we talk about the neighborhood, how we were attracted to its central location and architecture, about the house one of us is building on Leigh Street, about the old house across the street once owned by one of our friends and for years used as a studio for artists.
Everyone has a story about eating at Porkchops and Grits with gospel music playing. A couple of us rave about Lucy's, lunch and dinner. To a person, everyone is counting the days until Saison's market opens.
The Irishman has an extra ticket for Kathleen Madigan at UR Saturday night and invites me along but I have plans. The couple asks for a suggestion for a Perly's breakfast replacement and happy hour recommendations and I oblige with both. The bartender asks if anyone's been to Rogue Gentleman and what they thought.
Eventually the two women at the end of the bar, also J-Ward residents, can't stand it and join in, telling us where they live and why they love it.
They are bummed at having missed the meeting, at least until we tell them there are three more in which they can participate. With three other neighborhood restaurants providing food. And no telling how many new people they might meet.
And if you're the gregarious sort, the afterparty alone is worth the community service.
Scene one in which an invitation last night for a drink tonight had been accepted when a quick check of my calendar showed absolutely nothing on the books.
Fast forward to 10:50 this morning, ten minutes after getting up, when I get an invitation to something called "The Ephemeral Plan: Brook Road" and immediately sense that I must be there.
Our cocktail hour is moved up to accommodate my ephemera and we meet at Lemaire for Simonet Blanc de Blanc and so that I can hear about the state of her love life, the good, bad and ugly.
When my advice is solicited, I suggest a full frontal attack using the truth to let her beloved know what's bothering her.
While it seems unlikely she'll take my advice, she at least acknowledges its value.
Proceed to scene two, in which I prove that while I'm not an urban planner, I can play one with neighbors.
Tonight is the first of four sessions held at Gallery 5 to brainstorm what to do with the triangle at Brook and Adams in Jackson Ward, an island neither inviting nor usable (except to skateboarders), in part due to the weird traffic tearing around it.
Urban studies graduate student Josh Son has convened the group of neighbors and people who work in the neighborhood to help him develop ideas for making that corner of Brook Road more of an asset to the ward.
Wisely, he has arranged for food so we begin with fried chicken and dill potato salad from Saison, a chance to meet people while chewing with our mouths full.
My favorite neighborhood couple is there and we meet another couple, much younger, who share tantalizing tales of the view they have into nearby apartments. There are stories of hot tubs and sculpture and few curtains. Our group has formed itself.
From the evening's director, Josh, we hear about Brook Road's history as a turnpike from the farms of the counties into the big city, seeing old photographs that document this past, followed by photos of similar revitalization projects in places like Philly and Brooklyn.
He shows us a 45-minute condensed video of the triangle, a blur of pedestrian, bike and speeding car traffic, a testament to the need for change in this corner of the 'hood.
Thus inspired, we break into our groups to take a field trip to the triangle with two designated artists and two designated writers (no points for guessing which one I was).
On site with clipboards, paper and pencils, we note what exists there now, what the challenges are and what solutions we imagine to make this a more habitable space.
With no constraints, we talk big and imagine bigger.
We see terraced steps on all three sides providing seating under the large, old oak tree in the center of the triangle.
Our vision includes a circular stone bench around the tree once low-branch pruning is done and up-lighting to highlight what is undoubtedly the largest tree on Broad Street from Belvidere to MCV.
There would be flower gardens in large containers in two of the corners for color and contemplation.
We want a local sculptor to create a piece that incorporates a fountain where people could fill water bottles, like the ones they have in Europe.
Emboldened, we decide that the stretch of Brook Road next to the triangle needs to be closed to vehicular traffic to create a piazza for tables, chairs and umbrellas (and, as a bonus, create three additional parking spaces on Broad) so people could bring food, books or coffee and have a place to linger.
We see Max's on Broad putting cafe tables on the stretch of sidewalk next to the restaurant. New crosswalks and handicapped access ramps so that everyone can safely get to and use the space.
As we're busily discussing all this, Max's owner approaches us, clearly curious about what we're up to.
My friend warns me not to tell him because he'll disapprove, but I share anyway, explaining that his valet parking will have to move elsewhere and laying out the whole cafe culture we've imagined for this area.
He's immediately on board with the idea of closing Brook right there and having a pedestrian area with tables separate from his own.
When we return to Gallery 5, it is to hear each of the six groups' plans for re-developing Brook.
Our little group, the "corner collective" as we've dubbed ourselves, is appalled when two of the groups' plans begin by taking down the oak tree.
Almost in unison, the five of us protest, insisting we will chain ourselves to the oak before we let it be taken down. We are nothing if not passionate.
Our group presents our ideas and the remaining groups theirs, including one who plainly said that our idea for terraced steps to provide seating is an outstanding one.
All of a sudden, two hours have passed and we are at the end of tonight's session. The only thing left is to sign up for which arena - connectivity, shade/light, greenery, gathering- we want to work on next week as the plans are further refined and developed.
So while the evening should be over, it isn't.
A guy joins our group from another and soon we are discussing ideas for the triangle again. That segues into talk of the neighborhood and who's eaten where and how they liked it.
Which leads us to scene three, wherein I mention it's pupusa night at Saison and the Irish Catholic suggests the four of us adjourn there to see what kind of pupusas are on the menu tonight.
Mushroom with queso fresca and pork belly with guasano, that's what.
It matters not to me, since my standard response is always that I'll take one of each.
While we're all eating crispy, warm pupusas, we talk about the neighborhood, how we were attracted to its central location and architecture, about the house one of us is building on Leigh Street, about the old house across the street once owned by one of our friends and for years used as a studio for artists.
Everyone has a story about eating at Porkchops and Grits with gospel music playing. A couple of us rave about Lucy's, lunch and dinner. To a person, everyone is counting the days until Saison's market opens.
The Irishman has an extra ticket for Kathleen Madigan at UR Saturday night and invites me along but I have plans. The couple asks for a suggestion for a Perly's breakfast replacement and happy hour recommendations and I oblige with both. The bartender asks if anyone's been to Rogue Gentleman and what they thought.
Eventually the two women at the end of the bar, also J-Ward residents, can't stand it and join in, telling us where they live and why they love it.
They are bummed at having missed the meeting, at least until we tell them there are three more in which they can participate. With three other neighborhood restaurants providing food. And no telling how many new people they might meet.
And if you're the gregarious sort, the afterparty alone is worth the community service.
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