Different Worlds

On my cycle ride, a corner of Lake Street destroyed in the riots, now part art installation, part barbershop offering free haircuts. Later, sipped coffee in an affluent part of town where earnest people chatted about brand ambassadors, directors of success, and talent management.

Protest Art

Cycled across South Minneapolis looking for some of the extensive street art created, mostly with permission, on the plywood of boarded-up businesses. The artist painted this “in hopes of healing and hope for the future.” “Say his name. George Floyd. He was a human being.”

Pandemic Poetry

It was a day to stay home and watch YouTube videos to improve my soldering, and other such skills. Occasionally I looked out at the constant rain and the scrolling message on the Guthrie’s marquee: “Promise this world your love” from a poem, “Pandemic.”

Victims of War

Pumped up my tires, rolled up one pant leg, hit the trails. At the Minneapolis Institute of Art, thousands of life jackets covered the columns to form an installation, “When Home Won’t Let You Stay.” Each life jacket was worn by a person fleeing war in Syria or Afghanistan.

Grey Rock

Sipped a pre-show drink near the amber windows of Level 9 of the Guthrie Theater. In the play, “Grey Rock,” ordinary people rose above oppression with love… and a moon rocket. The playwright and cast were from the Palestinian territories.

Holding On, Letting Go

Walked over to the Guthrie for “Noura,” a play about an Iraqi refugee family in today’s New York: holding on to identity, and letting go; “finding identity in places that are worlds apart.

Unlearned Lessons

Spent the morning at the Minneapolis Institute of Art seeing the Vietnam War through the eyes of artists opposed to the war at the time. There’s too many lessons still to be learned.

Baggage Claims

Walked to the Weisman Art Museum to explore the movement of people and belongings across the world: “Baggage Claims.”