The angst depot burns

I'm going to devote a good deal of commentary on this entry because the fire suddenly has everyone
talking on the rumors as to why it happened. 80% of the conversations I overhead on the street
this evening (and I spent a good three hours downtown at the fire and the area of its influence) were
about such rumors. That said:

The entire center of Ann Arbor is caked in smoke and even my house smells like a campfire. A very old
warehouse that until the winter housed many artists and vagrant youth was in the process of being
torn down when some of the old regulars torched what was left to bring visibility to their plight.
According to the first news reports, though, the fire wasn't planned. Therefore, I wonder if the rumor
is just typical Ann Arbor intrigue theory or if the local fire department just isn't in the know. I'm guessing
the latter.

I went downtown to photograph the fire after seeing a sulfur-colored smoke in the sky above Ann Street.
At the warehouse, the local angst population gathered with their ceremonial piercings and watched as
fire departments from three (that I know of) districts fought the fire. I ran into somebody in the group
that's been in the community for a good five years or so. She told me that when they were evicted to
make room for a new YMCA facility, nobody flinched. No press, no protest. Apparently, this pissed them
off. As a result, they figured that torching the place would bring the visibility they thought they were
entitled to. I'm guessing these are the same people that have been spraypainting those fabulous little
stencil pictures all around town, considering that the old warehouse was covered with them. And again,
the whole visibility thing.

Now I appreciate the literary quality of it all. It's melancholicly romantic, like Tchaikovsky or Sylvia Plath
or other pillars of dysfunction (who were amazing artists, nonetheless). The idea is ancient, like Roman
soldiers who would rather kill themselves than to return to their homes having been defeated. It's an
interesting story, except for a few things that make it all so ridiculous:

Firstly, Ann Arbor is the vanity capital of the Midwest. It tries so damn hard not to be. Everybody here
wears linen and protests for social justice and world peace and go to vegetarian restaurants, hand out
pamphlets on veganism, damn the man, rage against the machine, and devote their entire self-awareness
to grassroots campaigns that they like to think make a difference. Now that's all good and well, and I'm
encouraged by it, except that a) it isn't a feasible tactic in today's world; b) it's self-defeating, because the
causes that they patron are made mute by their relativism, not to mention the absense of a value system
or comprehensive world view that gives their actions and stance in the name of legitimate causes any meat;
c) most of them are extraordinary privileged kids who feel guilty; d) there's scarce dissenting viewpoint in
Ann Arbor. Thus, the vanity that Ann Arbor so brilliantly spews is the sort of full-circle elitist kind. And that
brings me to my first point: in a town like the Deuce, a stunt like this doesn't go very far, because
everybody's down with it in the first place.

Secondly, their angst over a YMCA is totally assinine. Now as a historic preservationist and an architecture
student, I want to see historic structures preserved in widespread ways as much as possible (sometimes,
in fact, I'm even maniacal about it). Certainly, it's a bummer to see a solid old structure that's become
a harmonious part of the city fabric to go. But I'm also interested in the greater vitality of the city, and a
huge part of that depends on civic and communal amenities and accessibility. I can empathize
with the angsty kids and the artists in their eviction. They lost what I understand to be a staple in their
devoted and close community, and that sucks. Further, it sucks that now artists have even less space to
occupy at reasonable costs and accessibility. But that's not enough. If they were a productive asset to the
city at large as a result of occupying their old warehouse--that is, as a unique result--than
I'd be damn pissed that a YMCA's going to take over. But they weren't, and just like everybody else in this
world, they don't have anything coming to them just because they live a certain lifestyle or adhere to certain
social standards. My point is, a YMCA will be a far--far--better asset to the community at large than a bunch
of frustrated angsty people who don't contribute to the community at large (there's that term again) at the
same scale that a YMCA could, or for that matter, a homeless shelter, museum, library, youth center, etc.
would be able to. That's why I say, build the friggin' Y and everyone can just suck it up.

Thirdly, the argument was made that the YMCA should not be investing so many millions of dollars in a city
that already has a decent facility and is of socio-economic status to afford youth programs and whatnot
without a Y facility. But it can be argued to some capacity that torching their land isn't exactly going to direct
YMCA funds towards communities who 'really' need programs. Think about the associated costs: how many
millions will the YMCA need to spend on resulting higher insurance premiums, extra demolition costs, extra
clean-up costs (not to mention environmental cleanup as a result of asbestos contamination, etc.), extra
security, construction delays, contract royalties, additional contracts associated with a severely altered
building program, etc, etc. Perhaps the YMCA as a whole can afford these costs overall, but on a local scale
financial burden of the type arson results in can kill a project all together. And then what's left?
No YMCA--no civic asset--and no space for artists. That is, the same artists who torched the
place to make a statement in the first place. Then nobody counts their loses, not even the artists.

Fourthly, this stunt will cost the city a lot of money. Demands on water utilities, the costs of operating 3+
fire departments simultaneously, overtime police and fire, ambulatory care, cleanup, railroad closings, road
closings, security, etc. Not to mention that fact that now the entire center of Ann Arbor is buried in smoke
thicker than most fog we get up here, and I wonder how many carcinogens are hanging in the air along
the busiest pedestrian zone in town. The Washington St. corridor was like a steam room. Now I have a
massive headache worthy of Motrin in excess of a few hundred miligrams, the entire town smells like we're
at summer camp (which, I admit, is kinda cool...a dream come true, really), and my eyes burn.

I guess after these four points, I'm seriously doubting if this liebestod was worth it. I mean, really worth it.
It's not like we're in the war-torn former Yugoslavia, now is it? It's not as if anybody's being seriously and
inhumanely oppressed, now is it? And it's not as though there was no other option, a life-and-death
situation, a morally permissible prompt, a civically responsible rationale, a genuine act of unfairness or
cheating, or Stormtroopers poised to arrest the angsty ones unless their precious warehouse that they didn't
own and wanted torn down anyway to clear way for their own pet project was burned down (???), now are
there? So suck it up!


Chanson du jour: Richie Havens, The Klan , again, to illustrate the need for socially responsible art that still makes an effective point. And,
to illustrate a cause that's actually worth caring for and fighting for.