A Person of New Orleans

The peeling paint reveals the truth, just as the people are willing to reveal their story. I was able to continue my look deep into the people of New Orleans this week with thought about this connection between the city and its people; its influence on the attitude of the people. I received some insight into this attitude or lifestyle through an interview with a local New Orleanian. I got just a little closer to this persistent question of mine: What is it about New Orleans?

It’s hard for me to come to New Orleans only after two months of residency and really try to dissect the meaning behind the psychology of the local. I can immediately notice clear aspects of a local: a comfortable, friendly demeanor, the sense of a strong community, the acceptance of difference, and the immediate connection with any stranger. But, my quest is for how and why the people are they way they are, more so here than any other city I have found.

I was able to talk with a local of the Bywater area. Chartres runs along the Southern perimeter of Bywater, hugging the river. I often find myself along this main stretch of road, riding slowly to absorb my surroundings. Bywater is a very dynamic neighborhood, home to people of many economic, ethnic, and cultural backgrounds. Chartres is home to an interesting art scene, dotted with artist’s studios and the New Orleans Center for Creative Arts. This provided me with an opportunity to immerse myself into this aspect of New Orleans for a moment. I stopped into Dr. Bob’s Studio, an enormous plot of land dedicated to the art and sculpture of Bob Shaffer. A local since 1958, Dr. Bob has been producing artwork evocative of the spirit of New Orleans, his famous “Be Nice or Leave” plaques can be found all over the city. I was able to visit his studio and take in his vast collection of work and speak with a co-worker about her life as a New Orleanian in a very specific community.

I came upon Lisa at her workspace, touching up small wall hangings of typical New Orleans architecture, with loud, vibrant colors of yellow, green and fuchsia. Lisa was laid-back, friendly and willing to share with me her story. Lisa came to New Orleans from New York City in 1988 and settled in New Orleans. She and Bob had been friends before her move and she was able to begin working with him after she tired of working as a bartender. I asked her about the differences she noticed here from those in New York. “People are wrapped up in what they are doing, but not so much that they aren’t involved in the community. There’s a spontaneity about the people and their ability to live life.” It’s easy to remove yourself from a community in the individual world we live in. Much of how we live is involved in the independence we have, removed from the people around us. New Orleans is different; something makes it hard to be isolated in this city. Be it the architecture, the people, or the combination, a community exists and thrives.

I asked Lisa about the architecture in the city, specifically, Bywater, she said that “absolutely the scale of the housing and walkability of the neighborhood allow for the social community to thrive.” Preserving that is important to her. The homes are dense and they rest on the street, making it impossible to be isolated from the goings-on around you. Lisa was able to tell me a little about the attitude after Katrina and the way it has changed, but still remained. I asked if it was easy to come back from a tragedy like the storm. She told me that for Bob, in particular, it was easier because he had so many people rallying around him. People were interested in the spirit of New Orleans, something he represents very clearly in his work, and he was able to draw on the attitude of New Orleans to regain strength. I think that without this attitude, New Orleans might not have been able to recover.

This innate sense of community is apparent whenever I walk down the street, take out the garbage or enjoy a sit on my stoop. I can’t help but feel immersed in the attitude of New Orleans. Lisa was able to confirm my perceptions of the community evident in New Orleans. She was able to relay to me her story openly and honestly, without feeling she had to justify herself. Her story exposed her life as an artist of Bywater, the layers of paint peeled away to reveal her story about life as a person of New Orleans.

Peeling Paint

It’s hot again. The heat sits on my shoulders like massive weights pushing me deeper into the soles of my shoes. Oddly enough, it seems to be cooler outside in the heat than inside my house. I’m assuming it’s the fact that we have, due to financial reasons, cut the a/c during the day and limited its usage to the evening, restricting airflow to fans, which seem to push the heavy heat nowhere. The air outside is stagnate, but the occasional breeze is like a small, erratic prize for enduring the heat. A “well-done”, for you have survived the moment of oppression once more. I tire quickly of waiting for the next breeze and decide a bike ride is in order. This allows for a constant rush of air, making me believe I am somehow cooler.

As I maneuver through the streets of Bywater, I am distracted from the heat for a moment. My thoughts of igloos and glacial ice caps are interrupted as I pass the rows and rows of shotgun houses. I start to notice the finer details of debris and blight that I am confronted with on a daily basis. The layers of paint peel away from the siding of the shotgun, revealing the true state of the barge wood beneath. The state of the structure offers its history shamelessly. It allows itself to be read like an open book without discrimination or regret. The stoop sags in the middle, speaking to its overuse. I indulge my daydreams about the past of this house, which reveals itself so freely. I wonder what its walls have seen, how it has survived triumph and tragedy, gain and loss; each layer having its own complete story to go along with it, its own experiences. I look around at the similar homes, arranged tightly along the street, others, more recently refurbished, are not so willing to reveal themselves at first glance. The street itself reveals its scars and blemishes freely, without shame. It’s as if the scene of the siding, the stoops, the homes and the street are saying, without words, “I am here, I exist as I do, I need no justification.”

This brings up so many questions about the state of these houses. Why is it that the houses look they way they do? Why are there so many layers to this scene? Why are the characteristics of what may seem abandoned, so absolutely beautiful to me? The more I think about this, the more I understand the beauty is not only physical, it comes from something deeper. The beauty comes in how these houses have been the canvas for the story, the method of relaying the story. It’s the people that have been the authors of these stories, leaving pieces behind, adding layers to the narrative that is this home.

Just as the houses relay the story of the people, the people relay the story of New Orleans. The sense of community is strong, be it physical or psychological. Is it the architecture; the housing situated on the street, the density of the houses, or the common denominator of the shotgun that creates this communal sense? Or is it something more, an unabashed ability to be whoever you are, without having to justify yourself; an ability to be accepted by your community regardless of your scars, blemishes or peeling paint?