Everything I have learned from living in Philadelphia stems from misunderstanding or ignorance to how things work. Just tonight I took a “shortcut” to avoid walking from Broad to 19th Street by taking the Trolley. What happened? Well, I missed my stop, ended up walking three blocks out of my way, and showing up late to the Adrienne Theater which was my final destination. Fortunately, a staff member led me to a section of empty seats fittingly labeled, “Reserved for Late Comers!”
Although I missed the first five minutes of “The How and the Why,” the characters, and indirectly playwright, guided my thoughts toward science—a subject I unfortunately have little discipline or understanding for. The daughter of an evolution biologist, an evolution biologist herself, argues with a woman she last saw when she was six days old, about the implication of presenting a hypothesis as an individual. Rachel, the daughter, claims that her boyfriend and her bounced ideas off of each other after an interesting dream. Who owns that idea? She dreamt of something with little to do with science, and after a day of intense conversation, was able to formulate a revolutionary hypothesis that could change the way humans view very important aspects of their existence.
Who owns our ideas? Does true originality exist? Carl Sagan wrote in his science fiction novel, Cosmos, “If you wish to make an apple pie from scratch, you must first invent the universe.” If it is true that creation is only merited to that of who is responsible for the universe, then it seems silly to even think that an apple pie recipe can be called one’s own. Unless…a person creates his or her own universe—whether it be a novel, a play, or simply a lens to view the world—maybe that is where creativity exists.
This pole asks a simple question, but the answer can be complicated. In a city so diverse, so flawed, and so beautiful, who can we attribute this to? Perhaps those who live in Philadelphia are living in a separate universe from the rest of the world. Perhaps even, each universe is created in the individual cultures and neighborhoods that make up the city. Sure, universes cross over, intertwine, and overlap. Isn’t that what creativity is, after all? Ideas are not exclusive concepts. Neither are the stories of the people living in Philadelphia nor the questions posed by inanimate objects.
Who owns this pole? We all do. None of us do. I own this photograph, but do I really? These questions are at the heart of my experiences in Philadelphia—grit and beauty present in my studies and leisure alike.
Spirit of South Philly
My illustration class took a trip to the Italian Market and we had to create an image that described our experience. I wanted to show the diversity of things to see and buy as well as all the bright colors in the different buildings and stores. I had a lot of fun with this piece and I hope others enjoy Philadelphia as much as I do. This piece was painted in acrylic and digitally edited slightly.
Wet Cement
The first time you see death take a toll on someone’s life, you realize just how transient life is. All of a sudden, you do not know how to feel anymore. You try to bring about a pang of emotion but all that is released are salty remnants overflowing from the brink of your eyes. You grab a hold of everything that is dear to you because you are not sure when death will strike again. Slowly, emotion creeps back into your veins and you realize there is something all too surreal about the life that you live. You take the steps to school every day, but what about when you are gone, will those steps matter anymore? Will you matter anymore?
Somewhere along your journey you realize that the steps you take only leave a mark on the world if that is what you want. If you want to live your life and disappear without so much as a trace, you do just that, and it is incredibly easy. But what if you want your steps to last?
You think of wet cement first being poured. As you walk by the wet cement, you have this deep undying desire to leave a footprint so that years from now people will know that you were there. Before stepping into the cement though, you think that maybe there is a better way to let the world know that you exist and so this is what you are in search for, a meaningful way to leave a mark on this world, on our world, and on our existence.
You walk by the wet cement and as you walk farther down the sidewalk, you see a homeless man to your right. He is lying on top of a vent and while you can go to your heated home at any time, he must rely on the heat that rises out of the vents. You make sure no one sees as you slip some money next to him. He looks up at you, smiles crookedly, and tells you that he does not feel well. You look into his eyes but almost immediately you look down at the ground because the pain transcends from his eyes to your heart. You wish to bring warmth to his world but all you can do is quickly wipe a tear from the side of your eye so that he does not see your sadness, a sadness that has become his life. You give him your best reassuring smile.
You realize that you do not want to make an impact on this world by jumping into wet cement, but your heart desires to leave a mark on the lives of people. You begin research in computer science because you want to help build an artificial intelligent system that will provide revolutionary health care to third world countries and American cities. You want to use this system to bring about change in a world where sadness is so overwhelmingly present. You want to help somehow and this is the only way for you to diminish the sorrow around you and elsewhere. This is what your life has become, an attempt to change the lives around you.
On your way to school every day, you pass by the cement that is now dry. As you walk farther, the homeless man is still lying there. You see his persistence to live and you know what you must do, keep working hard to make sure that the footprint you leave behind is not just one that is in wet cement, but is present within all the lives that you hope to make a difference in. From the sadness you learn that you must bring about change. You take the sorrow and turn it into a beautiful idea, in an attempt to help transform Philadelphia from Grit to Beauty.
The Subtle Characteristics of Philadelphia
“A Beautiful Night Went Gritty”
Sights like this seemingly always add a nice layer of “grit” and character to the city of Philadelphia. Such intriguing sights leave explanation up to the minds of passersby, giving the people of the city a beautiful, collective, subconscious appreciation for the bizarre sights that give our city character.
“Subtle Humor”
The grit of a protest brings out the beauty of humor and sarcasm in some.
“Grits for Breakfast”
A praying mantis consumes the insides of a bumble bee outside my friend’s Philadelphia home. Oftentimes we forget that in such a gritty, concrete environment, the beauty and persistence of nature still exists. Throughout such a fast-paced city, overlooking small details proves more than easy – especially small details in nature.
Divine Lorraine: A Haiku Series
i. (1892)
industrial growth,
and symbolic abundance.
what decadence here!
ii. (1948)
oh holy lorraine!
now modest on the inside,
but functioning still.
iii. (2011)
graffitied and grey,
a shell of your former selves:
you’re urban decay.
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