Time changes rapidly around us, and it’s hard to keep track of all the memories that come with time. As I write this I am sitting in The Spy-house Cafe on Nicollet, Mpls, staring across the street at my old neighborhood, at the same street where I was hit by a car when I was eleven years old. This became my testimony, when the name Jesus saved my life. I sit and I can reflect on this. Also it was this place we left before moving to Cloquet in an era of gang violence that seem to uproot the community I grew up in and implant various other groups of peoples, which changed the social structure of the community that I grew up in.
I came back to live here, in the place of the Minneapolis Institute of Arts, Eat Street, the cusp of downtown at it crowns visible to the eye in the near distance.
This place is full of memories, both childhood, teen-hood and adulthood in a place that I walked and experienced love, heart break, and growing pains of adulting, my work experience and a place even now is still huge part of my life.
I was told by my dad who was also a writer, that a writer has to get comfortable delving deep into the stories that helped create who they are, and can be. Over the years I have written several types of work, but with lack of publishing, I had to shelf a lot of my projects. Life happens. I have struggled as an artist in this city, and don’t have many great memories of being included, only a select few, I take it my type of art is different and not often the taste of others, there also could be that everyone is getting out there an Live events so that others can know and check out there work. I find them to be courageous, and fierce, I am working on increasing my range as time passes.
I consider my art to be like fairy tales and or fables, but inspired by Modern day life. I have always loved the Bible and the stories and parables of Jesus. I love when men and women meet there character in a story, the revelation of the heart of men and women. Everyone has an image that they create around themselves to impress others, it is very rare to find anyone who is living with discipline and who embraces their own love language. Lost in a world of rewards and pleasures, few have the character to put in the work. I love stories or narratives that give examples of the real in story form.
Being a girl was and is a privileged when I was growing up, in my family, I have 4 sisters, 3 of which I grew up with. I have 2 brothers, but over the years they have become distant. My sisters and cousins, we have remained in tact since childhood visits to the park with beads in our hair. I went to Wilder Contemporary School, this store is right across the street on Chicago Ave. So many stories took place around this area, we often leave ourselves behind, and never see the old neighborhood as we used to. The neighborhood was the people, when the people left, all that remained were there old houses.
One of the realest part of living in the Twin Cities, Minnesota, no one can tell you who you are, we survive the cold, and keep it moving. We complain because we can, but we are never surprised. Warm hearted social beings, that are not naive, you can lose us before you realize you have us. ungratefulness is not tolerated, it’s too cold out here.
I love that I get to sit down in the early morning on a Sunday, stare out my window, eat breakfast, drink coffee and stare out over the fall colors that are apparent on trees. Nature inspires the city, and the city emerges, a sort of agreement of civilization. The water still an essential part of the experience, a necessary part of the aesthetic.
As a writer I also lean on the romance of life, I believe life is a romance, the soul and spirit trying to guide the rebellious body to except love, and be loving. We have such egos that won’t allow ourselves to give others the love they need. We build walls from trauma, and manipulate ourselves into awkward, unhealthy positions, unaware that we embody love and don’t have to try to hard. People lack love for their selves and abuse others, because apart of them refuses to face reality. It becomes a viscous cycle, when we learn that things don’t change, if they won’t change.
We are supposed to become super through out ability to love, and embrace the love of God that is so freely given. We often struggle to forgive ourselves for not being the idea we thought we would be. We then hold it against others for daring not to settle for the pittance we have been good with. A selfishness to want both to procrastinate and criticize others for trying..
We can do better, I believe it’s true.