I used to get off the Warren cross-town at Russel, right in front of the trash-to-energy incinerator. Detroit buses do not run anything like SF's. In Detroit the lines are up to a half-mile apart, in SF they are almost every other block. In Detroit the runs are about a half an hour apart, in SF they tend to be 12-17 minutes apart. And I'm only referring to the good days for Detroit buses.
I spent a good deal of time at the intersection weighing the pluses and minuses of the incinerator. Okay, they were all negatives except for one thing: the smell of burning trash meant you couldn't smell the pigs in the trucks lined up for the slaughterhouse down the block. Kittycorner from the stop was an empty field filled with the usual detritus except that there were a lot of old wooden doors. Over the next few weeks the pile of doors grew taller- someone was building something out of it and I had no idea what. Then, for a month, it just stayed there untouched. It was a great shock of the unexpected to see the thing had been painted over the weekend using bright colors with huge dots.
Another few weeks later I brought a camera with me and while I was snapping away some of the neighborhood kids gathered 'round to watch me. I asked if anyone knew who made it, the tallest kid told me it was his uncle Tyree and would I like to see some other stuff he made. Sure, why not.
Well, there's a really good reason why not. This was not a section of Detroit known for its diversity. There's a common misconception that the drug and prostitution hotspots are the most dangerous. No, those places are relatively safe because to scare/hurt/kill the suburban white kids would be bad for business. The area at Warren and Russel is a wasteland, a body that has started to decay before the toe-tag is put on. But, I'm an idiot so I just followed the kids.
The next piece was the frame of an old Dodge Duster that had been painted bright colors with stripes and dots. The kid told me that his uncle had made it safe for them to play on. We kept walking and I saw two more pieces: another door sculpture and a storefront painted pink with green dots and a hundred shoes (blue) nailed to one side of the building. I had to get going so I thanked them and headed catch the 22 Campau over on Chene (that's the bus M&M rides in the movie).
The next time I saw Dawnami I told her all about it and we made plans to drive through the neighborhood so I could show her what I'd seen and then we could look on a street named Heidleberg where the kid said there was lots more.
Remember Dorothy's reaction when she opened the door and walked into Munchkin land? Same thing.
I knew, vaguely, what found art was, but I never could have imagined this. Two whole blocks (houses, sidewalks, telephone poles, abandoned cars, the street, everything) had been turned into one giant installation piece. Being Detroit, he had no 
shortage for raw materials. An old man sitting on a porch waved at us and asked us to come up and sign the book. "What is all this?" I asked in my best slack jawed yokel voice. "My Grandson, Tyree, he did all this. Sign the book."
The book was almost full and almost as many names from other states and countries as locals. Grandpa filled us in: Tyree had grown up on this street and he was trying to change his environment. We walked all up and down that street for the next two hours. I knew we took photos but I don't remember what became of them.
Nowadays Tyree Guyton is an internationally know artist and I'm really thinking about heading back to Detroit this month to see the new exhibit.
Go in Peace
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