I finished this Acrylic on paper in December 1999. It was one of the last things I did in the previous millennium. Ogden Cly stands not for the person's name, but for the location, near the corner of Ogden and Clybourn Avenues on the near north side of Chicago, Illinois. It is a strange sort of place, which sometimes happens in large cities; a borderline between cultures, races, and economic status. On the right, the Cabrini Green housing project, a poster child for the failure of the Chicago Housing Authority, and for the concept of public housing in general, and high rise public housing in particular. Whether by chance or by design, it is segregated according to race. I would guess that it is 99+% black. The shadow cutting diagonally across the painting is in fact the shadow of one of the high rise buildings, but none of the buildings in actual view in the painting are Cabrini buildings, they are just out of sight on the right side of the image, beyond the parked cars, some of which are missing tires. On the left side of the painting, the odd looking brick wall is the side of a low, bunker-like building that houses a medical clinic that cares for some of the Cabrini Green residents, and beyond the left edge of the painting, lie the upscale and downright wealthy, predominantly white neighborhoods of Old Town and the Chicago Gold Coast. The entire scene is stripped of foliage, nothing but brick and concrete, here, in the shadow of Cabrini Green.
Now we come to the two central players in the painting; the shopping cart man on the right, and the jeep-looking automobile passing him, on the left. A study in contrasts; sunlight and shadow, black and white, shopping cart and yuppie jeep, right and left, right and wrong, left and left out, American Prosperity, and American Reality.
It is not my imagination that there are more homeless people on the streets, pushing shopping carts, and collecting anything they can sell, than there were last year. It is not my imagination that this phenomenon is not being covered by the news media, and is not on the debate agenda for the presidential candidates. This is amazingly visible for an 'invisible' event, and it's not just a Chicago phenomenon, either. Last year I visited Los Angeles, and San Francisco, and both of these cities have 'shopping cart cultures' as well; in fact, San Francisco is literally awash with homeless people. If an American citizen wants to visit a third world country, they don't even have to dust off their passport, anymore, all they have to do is go to any major population center, and walk down the street. So, who are these shopping cart people, and where have they come from, and why do those of us who are partaking of the Great American Prosperity apparently prefer to see 'news' interviews with the cast of 'Survivor' the TV show, instead of news interviews with the players in the actual game of survival that is being acted out for real every day in the streets, alleys and garbage cans of our major cities?
My grandfather would be proud of me if he were alive today. It was he who instilled in me the realization that garbage picking was a wise and noble profession. Of course, I have elevated the whole process to a level that would certainly leave Grandpa Martin in awe. My approach to garbage picking today goes like this: Find old canvases and stretchers, or wood to make stretchers. Find old brushes and paints. Find old bottles, tools, household items, etc., for my still-life paintings. Sketch and photograph the alleys themselves, along with the people who inhabit them, the situations that ensue, and the architecture that serves as a backdrop for all of it. Paint what I see, and whom I see, and the still-life's I arrange, on the backs of the remounted canvases. Sell the still life props on eBay, and the paintings on my website, and if the paintings are not selling, which is usually the case, then write articles about them, and their genesis, and publish the articles in my newsletter. I might as well, since the regular news media, and the politicians, and just about everyone else is busy pretending it's not happening.
I know the fellow in Homeless-1 and 2; we picked the same alleys for a while this spring, until he disappeared. He was fond of sleeping in the alley behind St. John Berchmans Church, where I sketched him, and then did these charcoal drawings. A lot of the homeless guys I have met have alcohol problems, or are mentally ill, but some are just out there to make a buck without stealing. There are very few homeless women on the streets, picking garbage cans. The one exception I have seen to this is that there was a group of what appeared to be Eastern Europeans living under the train tracks at Bloomingdale and Winnebago about a year ago. They set up a good sized camp, and were really a cohesive unit, building shacks out of scrap, and leaving someone there during the day while the rest were out scraping, to protect the fort. All within a half block of a huge development of yuppie condos, going up in formerly abandoned factories. Soon after the condos went on line, I noticed that the encampment was gone.
I don't really know where they came from, but it was impossible not to notice that the rise in shopping cart people began about the same time as the welfare system began being dismantled. I do know that whoever these people are, whatever sort of problems they have, they are not the scum of our society. The real scum of society is always quite capable of supporting itself in a manner suitable to its predatory nature. These are the ones who were not faking it...they really couldn't cope.
The American Welfare System was a failure, no doubt about that. Now that it is being dismantled, those who were ripping off the system before are the ones most capable of finding a new berth in the system, or another means of survival, and those who really couldn't cope, especially in cities as far north as Chicago, are being left to their fate; and this fact is just a little bit too cruelly Darwinian for public consumption, which might be why the news media leaves it alone. Those who are partaking of the American Prosperity don't want to see that kind of stuff on the six o'clock news, after a hard day at the office.
Right behind this leading element of the homeless, are those who are medically uninsurable. They may be safe and warm still, this winter season, but God help them if they become sick. Also, there is that segment of society who is not politically connected, and forgot to pay some portion of their real estate tax bill in some year past, whose homes will be happily confiscated, as well, just more grist for the American Prosperity. And let us not forget those whose homes and property will be seized by the IRS, not so much to pay back taxes, but to pay the penalty and interest that accrued on the debt, at a rate that makes usury a polite term.
This is the American Reality, and it is part and parcel of the American Prosperity. You won't see it discussed much on the evening news, because the advertisers who support those news programs wouldn't like it. I will tell you one thing, a good cold Chicago winter will take care of a lot of these social 'problems,' and do so quietly, so that no one has to see it on TV.
Don't ask me, I just make this stuff. These three pieces didn't have a thing to do with the subject I am addressing in this essay, at least not in any but the most indirect way. These are just a couple guys I met along the way, and it wasn't until later that I got to thinking about shopping carts and homelessness. What impressed me most was not the situation of the homeless, but the image of the man with the shopping cart...and the fact that it seemed to me that society wanted to wish it into invisibility.
Someone did a mural on the side of a building just off North Avenue east of Damen Ave, of a black man selling M&M's on the street. In my opinion, it was art. These are two of the images that will define our time, whether we like it or not - black men selling M&M's on street corners, and shopping cart people. This is what our times...now...the dawn of a new millennium, will be remembered for, and it is too late to erase it and start over.
... Whether we want to talk about it or not.