The Lou
I hate the news. All of it. Every last channel. I can’t stand the constant stream of negativity. Every story they throw at us is meant to keep our minds focused on fear. Lately, I’ve found myself obsessed with traveling. Not out of some misplaced sense of Coachella wanderlust but as a way to break the cycle. I have to know how my fellow Earthlings are living. Watching them when the news decides to show them isn’t enough, I need to be there. It sounds weird even as I write it, that I’d prefer to run around a war zone with a camera and Kevlar than go out and get wasted on a Friday night, but it’s who I am. By whatever means necessary, my job as a photographer is to give a raw, unfiltered look into what everyday life is for folks around the world.
By whatever means necessary, my job as a photographer is to give you a raw, unfiltered process into what everyday life can be like for folks around the world.
When Nick Coulter of the Art, Mimosas & Pancakes (AMP) family in St.Louis, contacted me, I quickly accepted the call to come and document life in the Lou. The job was simple, bring a camera and follow the team around various neighborhoods and capture what a day-in-the-life looks like. The format? Video. The Location? As many areas we could squeeze into two days. After preparing equipment and shot lists I was on my way. I took two breaths after landing in Lambert International and found myself dripping in sweat. For those who’ve never been, the South is hot. It’s so hot it hurts to breathe. It’s the kind of heat where folks fry eggs on the sidewalk (yes, we witnessed this). Nick smiled as I approach his car, recognizing my discomfort in the heat. Drowning in my own sweat and Afro-Sheen, I thought to when I first met Nick and company and remembered the reason I came to St.Louis in the first place.
A few days before landing in St.Louis, I was at Block Thirty Seven in downtown Chicago, meeting Nick, and his AMP collaborators Brock, and Rell for the first time to discuss the treatment I drafted to tell their story. The trio’s eyes lit up as they explained their history and heritage as friends. All three are multi-talented. Each one practices at least two crafts (music production, graphic design, writing, photography, you get the idea). They talked about their love/hate relationship with the art scene in St.Louis. They were frustrated with the lack of national attention their city’s artists get, however they were hopeful their elbow grease and hard work will take them to a global playing field. What they wanted to do at this event had never been done before, so they’re nervous, it was understandable.
The trio’s goal is to bring together the creative family of St. Louis and create a market for themselves, and then take it on the road to share with the world. One of the first things I noticed about these three was the love and passion they have for their city. So many individuals I’ve come across, myself included, want to get out of their respective hoods and find something new. Nick, Brock and Rell want to make things better at home before going abroad, which I admire, a lot.
There is a scary amount of unity in St.Louis. I study Twitter to track trends that I can use for marketing and I have never such a high engagement around an event as I did at AMP’s gallery (I’ve shot All-Star Weekend, Fashion Week, and countless events that bring together all the “somebodies”, all of them paled in comparison, engagement-wise). Maybe it was the Southern hospitality, maybe was all the bottles of Fitz, or maybe was just raw energy. I like to think the latter of the three, and this was confirmed after interacting with the youth in The Lou. There is all this energy there and no one taking the reins, it’s exciting, yet daunting. Imagine a city that has a thirst and desire to be a creative hub, with the audience, the talent, and the means to be legendary. That’s St.Louis.
Imagine a city that has a thirst and desire to be a creative hub, with the audience, the talent, and the means to be legendary. That’s St.Louis.
On the Ground
After my arrival in St.Louis, Nick and myself were on the way to meet with the rest of the team, plus L.A.-based artist JohnBorn who flew in a few hours before myself. We drop off bags at the hotel and get our equipment. It was Friday and about 95 degrees Fahrenheit with a 100-something heat index. Even for the seasoned Southerner, that much heat is dangerous, deadly if you’re not careful. I could sense the pride Nick had for his town as he drove around familiar blocks. Our first stop was Cherokee St. centered in a predominantly Hispanic neighborhood, “Welcome to the Southside” Nick told me. I busted out a couple dusty words in Spanish to the lady at the till of a local bodega and asked how much two bottles of water cost. “Dos catorce” or “$2.14” she said. I downed the first bottle and stored the other. We had been outside for not even five minutes and I’d spotted almost 10 empty buildings, storefronts, barbershops, pawn shops. It was as if someone came through and pushed everyone out all the same time. Nick confirmed my suspicions as we captured footage in the sweltering heat. It’s a story that I’ve heard all too often. “City gets expensive or zoning laws change that affect longstanding residents and they move out, leaving massive amounts of property behind”.
We had been outside for not even five minutes and I’d spotted almost 10 empty buildings, storefronts, barbershops, pawn shops. It was as if someone came through and pushed everyone out all the same time.
There was artwork on every corner. Not just the Southside, every block I was taken to had art plastered all over it. Murals, street art, graffiti, even wheat-pasting, it was on everything (for those who don’t know, wheat-pasting is a highly controversial form of grassroots marketing, in which signs are plastered to public spaces using a mixture of flour and water. Critics consider the method to be destructive to property value, while proponents enjoy the “spray and pray” ability to reach large amounts of people for cheap). We continued driving into the outskirts of downtown known as “the Loop”. Anyone who knows my photography knows that I love capturing lifestyle and having folks model in amazing backdrops. I got my chance as our convoy rolled past several empty buildings right across from a 5-story apartment building. The juxtaposition was insane. You can ride around gorgeous neighborhoods with clean streets and smiling faces. Take a 10 minute detour and you can be in a VERY different area. It was chilling to see how fast the scenery could change and how nonchalant everyone was about it. “Oh y’know we got a Checkers right past the row of abandoned houses over thurr” Brock told me in classic Lou dialect.
The juxtaposition here is insane. You can ride around gorgeous neighborhoods with clean streets and smiling faces. Take a 10 minute detour and you can be in a VERY different area.
We eventually headed to Mad Art Gallery where the event would be later that night. I met the rest of the team including JohnBorn, the event’s featured artist, who I learned would rap and do live painting on not one but two models. I could sense the energy as I watched the setup of the event and saw how bad these guys wanted to make this happen. They talked in the past tense. They knew that the turnout would be amazing and that the video I created would light the fuse for greater things down the line. The confidence was contagious.
Brownsville to the Lou, and Back
I will take a quick note to, selectively, describe my background. My father is of Native American, Black (African-American for the politically correct), and Jamican heritage, with military experience. My mother is first-generation American, her parents are from Lebanon. Whether I like it or not, I am reflection of my parents and my/their environment. The fact is, my parents never let me have anything for free and were always happy to remind me with a meancing smile and a belt. I tell people that I grew up out of a suitcase. I’ve lived in over 10 different blocks on both coasts and everywhere in between. I’ve seen the sweet neighbors with white picket fences and I’ve had shots fired in front of my windows. I watched my mom go through law school and chemotherapy at age 13. These details are necessary are to explain my attitude in how I see the world, and specifically my experience in St.Louis. The neighborhood where I live in Brooklyn is called Brownsville. At one time it was labeled the murder capital (Murder Inc.) of New York and I believe it still carries that grim title to this day. NYPD helicopters fly fast and low accompanied with constant foot patrols, a reminder of the force that is exerted here. The average unemployment rate on my block in Brooklyn is 6%, median household income is nearly $48,000 a year, and Kings County makes up just over 13% of the state population. I’ll compare these numbers to the whole county of St.Louis. Unemployment is also hovering at 6%, median household income is nearly $60,000 a year, and the city makes up nearly 17% of the state population. While there’s obviously numerous factors going into these numbers — population, cost of living, poverty levels — I believe there is more connecting these two cities than one would care to admit.
Gentrification has yet to reach the deep depths of Brooklyn. The sleek and sexy vibes of revamped neighborhoods like Fort Greene and Bed Stuy are absent from Brownsville. It is spread out and geographically located in a valley that is below sea level compared to the rest of Brooklyn. It’s frustrating, my friends from other neighborhoods hate coming here. To this day I haven’t been able to convince anyone who doesn’t live here to stick around for more than a couple hours. It isn’t hard to see why, no bars, no shopping, no grocery stores, there’s nothing to get into except trouble. What we lack in visual aesthetics, we make up in soul and common sense. Some of the strongest willed and tenacious Brooklynites I’ve met come from Brownsville. The city isn’t perfect at keeping our best interests at heart, but considering the amount of souls here, we do okay. It’s not hard to see why self-preservation is a number one priority for most New Yorkers, and I sensed the same tenacity venturing around the abandoned blocks outside of Hillsdale, MO.
Karma, God, however you call it, something prompted me to create in St.Louis.
Our convoy moved to the Loop and we walked into a local clothing shop called DNA, if you’re from New York think Kith, and if you’re from Chicago think Saint Laurent. The shop’s owner/manager duo of Nate and Kovaly greeted us with open arms. The owners share the same mission as the AMP team: Create amazing things and bring the out-of-towners in to come see what’s going on in St. Louis. As Nick proudly introduced me, I saw the disbelief mixed with pride in the faces of those who learned I was the mythical “homie from Brooklyn”. I got questions: “Oh word, what brings you to the Lou?”-“How did you meet Nick?”-“How do you like it here so far?”-I smiled and realized that there’s a respect for my city here. Of course , after all it’s NEW YORK CITY. Unlike some of my photographer counterparts back home, I’ve realized other cities look up to NYC and want that energy in their backyard. The respect is mutual. I could have chosen any city to work in; in fact, I had another offer sitting on the table from a cat in Los Angeles. It was certainly tempting, but my process is directed by vibes. Despite the promise of a big check and an all-expenses-paid-type attitude, the energy wasn’t in the right place. Karma, God, whatever you call it, something prompted me to create in St.Louis.
The Scene
We made a pit stop at Blick Art Materials and Brock grabbed some paint for his canvas. I’m introduced to another member of the team they call Original Fells, who traveled from Houston to be back with his family and childhood friends. Remember what I said earlier about how quick St.Louis can change visually? We leave the buzzing energy of the Loop and end up on Brock’s side of town in Hillsdale. Out of all the properties we drove past probably 60% of them were empty, boarded up, and condemned, awaiting a figurative trial in a figurative case that has no figurative juror. Brock tells me about a police Humvee that we were about to pass, and I immediately had to see it. We were just south of Ferguson, in Hillsdale. The anniversary of Mike Brown’s death was approaching and Louis Farrakhan would be there in a week’s time. I remember Nick’s description of twisted justice here. He told me about the racism that still lingers, specifically in the police force. There are specific neighborhoods and roads where locals simply don’t go because of police.
I got out of the truck and got my shots of the parked police Humvee and empty police department. Up to this point I thought I had seen the nastiest DT’s, Jakes, and SWAT vehicles in the country; ignorant I know, considering the recent confrontations with militarized police forces and civilians. Looking at this damn thing gave me the chills, and I can only imagine what the people living here are feeling. I had an intrusive thought that this Humvee is nothing, instead somewhere hidden (or not) is some death machine with all black paint and a mini-gun strapped to the top of it and delivered to the police department in the name of justice. I had seen images of the military vehicles in Baltimore & Ferguson, but until you LOOK at one with your own eyes it is hard to imagine these things rolling around your neighborhood. I’m told if you look close enough you can see the grey and green camo paint underneath the state crest and paint for the boys in blue. Almost all of the houses we passed had these signs pleading members of the community to stop senseless killing, a direct call to action.
I had an intrusive thought that this Humvee is nothing, instead somewhere hidden (or not) is some death machine painted all black with a mini-gun strapped to the top of it and delivered to the police department in the name of justice.
We headed back to the truck. Brock smiled as we approached one of the houses he has taken a liking to. The front of the house had become his canvas. He’s already finished a yellow and orange fireball on one of the boarded windows. Two friends next door popped to greet Brock, teasing him about the camera presence in the neighborhood. They introduce themselves as “HB” and “Zo”. I picked out my angles to film and watched Brock continue to add to this piece he’s created. I started to understand the sense of pride they have. Ultimately, they want attention to be given to this area, and want folks to know about The St.Louis outside of the Cardinals and the Arch.
The heat was more gripping than earlier. Wearing a shirt was counterproductive at this point, to the pleasure of the local mosquitoes. We recorded audio and I listened to Brock talk about his motives and why he had chosen to paint this window in such a manner. He is painting right now but told me he would be rapping at the event later tonight. We finished filming the piece and I head back to the hotel to dump footage from my CF cards and get ready for the gallery. At this point in the day I’d changed shirts twice and decided on a loose, free flowing Kanye vibe was my best option.
The AMP family want the unknowing to feel like they missed out on something amazing, and if you were there, to affirm the belief that these guys are headed to the top.
The Event
We had another couple hours of filming the next day, but most of my energy went into capturing that night. The AMP family wanted those who didn’t know to feel like they missed out on something amazing, and for those who were there, to affirm the belief that these guys are headed to the top. The energy was already at one hundred by the time we walked through the door, shortly after the start of the event. I snapped into director mode, capturing everything from people laughing and hugging, to viewing art and what people are wearing. For a project like this my job as a director is to communicate the client’s vision and be able to tell this story to someone who has no idea about the event. It can be seen as a simple task but it’s rather complex. You need to describe the beginning, middle and end of a story and do so in a short amount of time.
The industry folks say to under-promise and over-deliver, and that’s exactly what I plan to do. Walk in with an open mind and capture the best and brightest of the St.Louis art scene. I walked around the crowd and started interacting. I noticed it was all one big family, everyone seemed to know each other. It’s a little daunting to an out-of-towner like myself. Unlike Chicago or New York where tourists are expected, I clearly was the lone oddball there, but the locals greeted me with sincerity. They asked about what I do, how I liked St.Louis, and the event. Yeezy Boosts and “St.Louis” snapbacks awere peppered throughout the room. The room was buzzing, and I noticed folks actually studying at the art that was hanging around the walls.
Think Warhol meets Soulquarians. There was various sorts of pop art infused with black culture scattered around the room and the folks there reacted positively to it. The take was fresh and the contributing artists all applied a personal touch on their respective pieces. It felt relatable to the average young adult who may or may not be comfortable digesting art. There was piece of Malcolm X, several photos from Nick, and multiple paintings with Gucci Mane as the subject. JohnBorn painted both of the stunning models, then a half hour later behan to rap, using the full momentum off the energy he created. Shortly after that, I watched Brock prepare himself before going on stage. He leaped up and is already going full speed with his energy. As a live performer I know firsthand that working with crowds can be a difficult job. Brock and John got the front row going and soon, the rest of the audience.
The View
Before I know it, the event was over and we’re headed downtown to capture B-roll. We drove past the Cardinal Stadium and I couldn’t resist the urge to stop and sneak to the top floor of the parking garage to capture footage and some long exposure images. Sneak is the wrong word, I actually strolled through the front door like Ricky Ricardo. It’s a different animal compared to New York, as far as getting onto roofs go. It was easy, almost too easy.
I ran into a maintenance worker on the top floor and he chuckled at my presence at the hour, almost 1am. He didn’t question my motives for being on the roof. I got my shots in the sweltering heat. Seriously, the heat got worse after the sun went down. It was almost laughable at that point. I took the elevator back down and headed to the hotel to dump footage and get a few winks of sleep before leaving the next day.
Exodus
My final day in the Lou took us to the Botanical Gardens. I requested to go here for some footage and to capture audio from the team. The place was huge, bigger than I imagined. There was a lantern installation going on and various Japanese themed pieces scattered in the parks’ many ponds and shrubs.
I took quick segments of Nick, Brock, and Rell as they each described their various sources of inspiration and last night’s festivities. Again I was impressed at how well these three handle themselves a unit. It’s pretty crazy how in sync they are, and while their inspirations vary, they shared fairly similar points on what needs to be done to make St.Louis the next big art hub. With the interviews done, we cracked jokes and relaxed in the overcast oven that was St.Louis. As always, the time had flown by and soon I was saying my goodbyes to the team and getting ready to go home. My time there was short but I caught an incredible amount of energy from these three and their family. I love working with individuals who are developing and pushing for the best. There are more pieces to the puzzle than just NYC and LA these days. Cities like St.Louis are making leaps and bounds to be on top of the pile and they have the means to do so. St. Louis has a market for art, and the demand is growing, rapidly. the talent is there, the desire is there, and the passion is there. If you find yourself in St.Louis, don’t let the abandoned houses and police Humvees deter you. Plug into the Art, Mimosas and Pancakes family. They are headed for amazing things. Roses growing from concrete, straight to the top.
