Terry Willis Completes 1K Mile March At George Floyd Memorial - One Man, Two Feet!

Terry Willis completed his one thousand mile walk from his hometown of Huntsville, Alabama to the site of George Floyd's murder by police at 38th and Chicago in Minneapolis yesterday afternoon, and was met by throngs of supporters who had followed him along his arduous journey.

After some delays due to weather and body recovery, Willis joined a waiting group at the Mall of America in Bloomington. Marchers held signs and wore t-shirts (and almost every respectful citizen was wearing a mask!) in support and cheered Willis on for the last seven miles of his trek to gain awareness for change, justice, and equality.

As there had been threats to Willis along the way, the organizers never gave out his exact location, so it was a bit of sleuthing to find out where they would exactly be to join the march if you hadn't been at MOA on time (like me). I was driving back from getting our morning coffee when I saw people sitting on the curbs of 12th Avenue in Richfield, and a police presence at my old middle school on 70th and 12th.

I raced home to get my brother and we raced back just in time to join Willis for his march through Richfield. I was so proud to be standing up for social justice and systemic change in my hometown, marching down 12th and up 66th to Portland, with supportive honks from backed up cars and shouts of solidarity from the people lining the streets. There's an old spirit chant that went "We're from Richfield, couldn't be prouder, if you can't hear us, we'll yell a little louder!" - and that's what it felt like marching alongside this inspirational man whose story I'd been following since his walk began on June 2nd in Alabama. (This feeling would go away in the evening - read to the end).

"Say his name!" "GEORGE FLOYD!" and "One Man! TWO FEET!" were a couple of the chants along the way, and the day could not have been more beautiful for a walk for social justice. Willis kept an amazingly fast pace going, for a man who had been walking across the entire country. Also impressive was the way he was so concerned about everyone else. He darted around in the crowd, asking if people had water, giving hugs to people that got emotional in his embrace, as they could feel the gravity of what he had endeavored to do, and now he was real and in their arms. Pretty powerful stuff.

When the group turned toward Minneapolis, Paul and I raced back to our car, went home and grabbed our Mom, and took her to do a drive-by farewell to the Pastor of her church, Nokomis Heights Lutheran, who was having a last day picnic there at 53rd and 10th. We drove by and waved our good wishes, and then saw that the Willis march was going by two blocks away at Chicago Avenue!

We cheered them on for a couple of blocks, (and were a little surprised to see a guy open-carrying a machine gun, but then there had been credible threats, so ... sigh. This world.) then drove to 38th and Chicago to the George Floyd Memorial where Willis was to finish his long journey.

The intersection was packed with people, so we tried to stay on the outskirts because of Mom and the pandemic, and people were very respectful about giving she and her wheelchair the space she needed. The grills were cranked up with long lines for the free fare, and the usual angels were there passing out bottles of water on this hot day. The flowers had been refreshed after the storm the night before, and it was once again a beautiful scene of respect and community coming together as one in the name of equality and justice. That's just honestly what it feels like every time you're there, and I hope all Twin Cities residents have been by now. It's something else.

It didn't take long until we saw the glimmer and heard the din in the distance of the Willis march approaching. More and more people poured into the streets as the march passed into the intersection, and more than a few tears were shed when Willis finally approached the very spot where George Floyd had been so ruthlessly killed by monsters meant to protect us. Out of breath somewhat himself, the moment held a whole lot of weight when Willis was now at the destination that had been his focus. Cheers erupted, and then went silent as a trumpeter climbed up above everyone and played "Lift Every Voice And Sing", and another emotional memory was made.

Families stood together, friends stood side by side, mothers pushed their children in strollers, we pushed our Mom in her wheelchair, and everyone there knelt together as one with fists raised in silence as Terry Willis knelt as long as he could after such a long and hard physical feat. More cheers filled the blue skies then, as Willis took the mic to address the crowd ...

Speaking to how he was just a regular guy, not a celebrity (though he was certainly treated like one, deservedly), and he just saw something terrible that he was compelled to do something about, so he set out as one man, two feet and walked for change. Any one of us could do the same, and any one of us can do SOMETHING in our own lives to effect change. My own nearly 80 year old (birthday next week!) Mom is right now in the living room reading "How To Be An Anti-Racist" - THAT is something to effect change, because then she'll talk about it with her 80+ year old posse, and they begin to think differently, and that HELPS.

Once Willis thanked the crowd, he was eager to get home to his own family and his own bed, and the intersection at 38th and Chicago turned once again into the street party that it has been on most days since George Floyd lost his life there. We now know that this time WILL be different, and that systemic change is ACTUALLY in the works. You can feel it.

My family left to get Mom home as we are a bit leery about having her out in the mix at this stage of nobody knowing what's up with this pandemic, but we were all so happy to have been there together to see this historic and triumphant feat completed by Mr. Willis, and once again by surrounded by so much good will and positivity for a better world. We were buzzing about it all day after, and I thought I'd share the Richfield part on the "I Grew Up In Richfield" Facebook page so people could see how cool it had been in our hometown that day. I was certainly not prepared for the bigotry and vitriol that followed, and I'm still reeling from it. "That's BS!" "George Floyd was a thief!" "This kind of thing doesn't belong on this page!" were some of the awful comments in reaction to a short video of their community members marching along with a man who had just completed a huge, triumphant personal victory that was also global news. And now their backwards behavior will now also be a part of this global story. Willis had people cheering him on via his Facebook and Instagram feeds from around the world ... but Richfield, Minnesota residents didn't want to hear about it on their community page. UNREAL. I'm crushed. I've been back here taking care of my Mom for a year now, and I know I've been living in the Venice, California bubble for a long time, but I never thought there would be such racism in my now very diverse hometown. THEN I see that my post had been taken down, due to so many complaints about a Black man marching through Richfield for social justice. I'm disgusted, and of course, will no longer have my name associated with that intolerant page. The Administrator woman didn't bother to send me a message, but she sent Paul one for his post that said it was for people who grew up in Richfield, not politics. Well, guess what, lady? People are STILL growing up in Richfield, and it's sad that the one they're growing up in is like this, especially when old, white Spartans are hardly in the majority in town anymore.

I don't want to end on a negative note to what was such a positive and beautiful day, so I'll just say to every complainer on the Richfield page - I hope you can manage to GROW, because your way of thinking is past its expiration date. To Terry Willis and all of his supporters - WOW! POWERFUL! What a feat! CONGRATULATIONS! LOVE! SOLIDARITY! UNITY! We WILL make the change this country so clearly, so desperately needs. We have to.

ONE LOVE, EVERYBODY! Even you, old, white Spartans. May you join us in 2020 someday.

Minneapolis Burning - George Floyd Will Not Be Forgotten

My hometown is burning, and, frankly ... it should be. The murder of George Floyd in broad daylight while being filmed was enough for anyplace to self-combust, and no one can be blamed for reacting to the violence with outrage and heartbreak.

I've been in tears since I first saw the video, and after waking up this morning to the news of the city being burned alive and looted, I was so crushed that I had to go be among the people. I didn't feel like I could participate in the protest last night, because after seeing images of tear gas (which I've experienced and isn't fun) and rubber bullets nearly killing more people, I reluctantly stayed home. I'm the caregiver for my Mom and brother right now, and if something happened to me, I don't know what they'd do, so I stayed put in front of the television watching the mayhem in real time. And then I got up this morning and went to pay my respects to Mr. Floyd at the site of his murder at 38th and Chicago.

The intersection isn't officially blocked off, but it is blocked by the throngs of people also needing to be there in solidarity. Music was being blasted, a barbeque was taking shape on one corner, the streets were filled with written messages in tribute to Floyd, and the overall atmosphere was both charged and peaceful at the same time.

I got chills the moment I saw the gathering, and as I approached the memorial itself, involuntary tears began streaming down my face. I can't believe this happened here ... but I also can. I was alone, and felt sort of conflicted. Was my presence there invasive to the black community who were mourning and hurting? That was answered fairly quickly, as an older black woman near me saw my teary eyes above my pandemic mask and said, "I'd hug you if I could". I told her I would too, and it was a beautiful moment of human beings united in their sadness - and their hope. Hope that by coming together in the name of love, there will actually be justice this time. And an end to the senseless killing of people of color that has haunted this land since its origin. I began to feel like maybe it was important that someone that looks like me was there with them all, in total solidarity. I've already made all the calls to government officials and the D.A. of Minneapolis, I've sent the emails, I've signed the petitions, I've shared the outraged posts ... but I needed to be there to SHOW that people really, really care.

A mural of Mr. Floyd was taking shape on the side of Cup Foods where the murder happened, and I anticipate that this will long be a gathering site for people to come together to mourn Floyd, and an important location in the struggle for civil rights that continues long after the South lost the Civil War. Leaders in the fight for equality for ALL will be leading vigils and protests later today, people like Jesse Jackson and Al Sharpton, and I don't know why, but something feels different this time. Like the People have had absolutely enough, and will not sit by and watch the memory of this blatant murder fade away. At least I hope so. (And the L.A. protests in solidarity were very much appreciated - miss and love you!)

All four murderers MUST be charged and convicted. If that doesn't happen, the City of Minneapolis should expect the unrest to continue - and it would be fully justified. This country is suffering from two viruses - Covid-19 and Systemic Racism. Both must be entirely eradicated if there is ever to be a sense of peace and normalcy in this nation again. I don't know exactly how we're going to get there, I just know that we must. And I vow personally to do whatever in the whole world I can do as an activist and as a fellow human being to help make things better for everyone.

I humbly offer my support and love to all who are hurting so much right now. I am with you, and I know that together we can FORCE things to be better. Because we must.

I was going to say No Justice, No Peace - but there MUST be justice. There is no other option. Peace and LOVE to the family and friends of George Floyd, and to the entire world affected by this absolute tragedy. George Floyd - you will never be forgotten. And you just might be the catalyst for change, once and for all. Rest In Peace, Sir.


*Later. Way more fired up. So ... A great thing you can do right now - NOW, while you're feeling something - please call #612-324-4499 and stay on the phone as long as you can, calling every official possible that can do something about getting these dirty cops charged and convicted NOW.  DA Mike Freeman needs to go - start there. There is MORE THAN ENOUGH EVIDENCE, Sir, to arrest and convict all of those murderers right now. We ALL SAW IT. They're trying to err on the side of caution, saying they want to "Get it right". Well, THE only way to get it right is to charge these despicable creatures, and we mean NOW.

You call #612-324-4499. Shaun King's recorded voice answers and instructs you as to what's up. They then connect you, one by one, as long as you can (I made like 50 calls I was so intensely mad/sad/determined) to the offices of various ELECTED officials and Police department heads. I never once got a human on the line, and both disappointingly and encouragingly, many voicemail boxes were full. But, OH, did I leave some doozies for messages. The police ones didn't even let you leave a message, they've been so inundated. Good. Once you finish your tirade, you push the star key, and Mr. King sends you on to the next one - and you just keep on going until you can't take it any more or you hit them all. This time must be different.

I'm both heart-crushingly sad and fully elated to see the solidarity coming to Minneapolis and St. Paul - our beautiful Twin Cities - from around the globe. Like the pandemic, racism and systemic murder have all shown us how very connected in this world we all really are. Thank you especially to Venice, who I'm told marched down the Boardwalk for George Floyd tonight. I'm reverse homesick tonight ... it's so weird to be here in Minneapolis, and not watching it all on t.v. from Venice - but I'm glad I'm here with my hometown people. I think I'm needed more here now. LOVE to absolutely everyone, everywhere. We will make this planet a better place for all if we can once and for all unite for the good of everyone. Call me a hippie (and many of you do), but I'm pretty sure we can do it. Underneath all of the sadness and chaos here tonight ... I feel the real simmering of this melting pot about to boil over into something better.

Peace.

K, now hit your keypad and dial up #612-324-4499!

XXX

Clogtown: Artists Respond: American Art and the Vietnam War, 1965-1975 at Minneapolis Art Institute

Happy New Year! Happy New Decade! Welcome to the Roaring '20's! I'm excited. I have all sorts of stories to tell, but for the first one of this new calendar year, I have to tell you about the exceptional exhibit happening at the Minneapolis Art Institute that is ending THIS SUNDAY. Artists Respond: American Art and the Vietnam War, 1965-1975 and Artists Reflect: Contemporary Views of the American War are both real pieces of work that will stay with you for a good minute after you leave. It's HEAVY. And as it's looking like we're playing war games all over again (Iran today, North Korea always looming, Russia just getting away with everything ... ), this show is more important than ever ... so that we might THINK - and avoid such war horror all over again.

The show opens with a typewriter printing out current news constantly, filling the entire atrium at the entrance. News, 1969 (reconstructed 2019) by Hans Haacke emphasizes the challenge of sifting through mass amounts of reporting, as well as conflicting perspectives from various news outlets (think MSNBC v. Fox News - a whole different universe!). It sets the ominous tone from the moment you purchase your ticket.

I don't have any personal memories about the Vietnam era, as I was too young, but this show creates the feelings that all parties were having. The Eleventh Hour Final, 1968 by Edward Kienholz asks "What can one man's death, so remote and far away, mean to most people in the familiar safety of their middle-class homes?" and recreates the 70's living room that most sat around their black and white t.v.s and got their news of the war. The title refers to the last news hour of the day, and also gives more of that ominous feel.

Vietnam, 1967 by Phillip Jone Griffiths was one of twelve of his gelatin silver prints, all of which show the actual humanity among the people living in the war theater. Incredibly touching, all of them made you feel that the soldiers and the Vietnamese citizens got along and seemed to like each other - and, as always, they were following orders from old, white, dangerous men that would never be personally affected by it. So sad. So disgusting. SO evil.

We all know the famous poster War Is Over! If You Want It, 1969 by Yoko Ono and John Lennon, but this was its origin. Ono and Lennon were not having the Vietnam War, and this poster release followed their infamous "Bed In" to protest the war. I wonder what Lennon would think of these modern times? We could sure use him now .... Imagine.

Carol Summers contributed Kill For Peace, 1967 (from the portfolio Artists and Writers Protest against the War in Vietnam), showing families dealing with this tragic war.

Next to it was one of the heaviest ones for me, that made me physically nauseous. The Art Workers' Coalition. Active 1969-71 asked the horrific question Q. And Babies? A. And Babies., 1970. UGH. THIS is what those evil, old, white men don't seem to care about when concocting their wars for profit. War is Hell.

Equally rough was Untitled (The New York Times, Sunday, September 13, 1970), 1970 by Liliana Porter. It's especially moving as it takes the viewer from the macro to the micro, from the generic to the personal. She is You. She is Me. She is US - and that's what makes war so hard to understand. It takes the humanity away ... but Ms. Porter brings it back.

Big Daddy Paper Doll, 1970 by May Stevens shows yet another depiction of the bald, white, old cigar-wielding nemesis to society that creates war. Taking up an entire wall of the room, her point is clearly made.

Corita Kent had a wall of six screenprints, all Day-Glo bright, in what the Catholic nun called "advertisements for the common good." yellow submarine, handle with care, right, phil and dan, stop the bombing, and news of the week (all 1967) take the look of commercial packaging to pack their punches.

Political posters really took off during the Vietnam War, and Eat, 1967 by Tomi Ungerer is one of the very memorable ones. Force feeding the Statue of Liberty down a Vietnamese person's throat doesn't leave much room for ambiguity ... and the U.S. government doesn't seem to have learned much in the decades since.

This next one is hard for me to even type out, but Flag For The Moon: Die Nigger, 1969 by Faith Ringgold. She makes visual commentary (and the title is there in the work) on the fact that African Americans were fighting our war, while being the victims of racism at home. The country was spending massively on space exploration, while ignoring our black citizens. Oof. I told you it was heavy. And TRUE.

1A, 1972 by Timothy Washington was a statement on the destruction of the draft. "1A" meant you were available for war ... and the defaced draft card embedded in this piece says "John Doe" and the 1A status is listed as "forever". UGH. I'll just never understand war, ever.

Untitled, 1967 by William Copley asks us all to THINK. Please.

Yoko Ono was represented again in a film being played on a t.v. called Cut Piece, 1964/5, where Ono invited audience members to approach her and cut off a piece of her clothing.  People had to choose how to respond ... stop, interfere with, or escalate the action ... much like what was happening in the country with the war. The piece was performed just weeks after Marines arrived in Vietnam, and raised those above questions that needed to be asked. Ono has always been provocative - and smart.

Reading Position for Second Degree Burn, 1970 by Dennis Oppenheim is a photograph showing the artist in the before/after five hours in the sun with a big volume of military field tactics covering half his torso. This was to comment on the U.S. soldiers shown basking in the tropical sun while Vietnamese citizens were being burned by napalm. Oh my gosh. It's really hard to be a proud American at show like this. Seriously.

Jim Nutt offered Summer Salt, 1970 is a play on words for "Some assault". Civil unrest and media accounts of the human toll informed this work, and though it's bright and cheery looking - the content is quite the opposite.

Now, if I thought this show was incredibly heavy and tough to take in, I can only imagine what veterans of this awful war feel like. There was an elderly man in the gallery, sitting alone, seemingly in reflection. He got up to take a closer look at Target Practice, 1968 by Peter Saul (who meant it to be a "cold shower of bad conscience"!), and I got a lump in my throat thinking about what he must be thinking. I don't know if he was a veteran himself or not, but he was visibly moved - as was I. The museum had a room set aside for silent reflection if people needed it ... and I think it probably gets a lot of use. 

A huge piece taking up another entire wall was Vietnam II, 1973 by Leon Golub. He was a vocal activist before using the war as a theme in his work, and intended the large scale of his work to equal the "grotesqueness" of the U.S. military might. That was a great word for it - and still is. Maybe even more so. WILL WE EVER LEARN?!?!?!?

Judith Bernstein created A Soldier's Christmas, 1967 to protest the war, mimicking the graffiti she saw from soldiers. It depicts a woman's spread legs, adorned with Christmas lights, graphic in both word and image. Bernstein said of the work, "I wanted to make the ugliest paintings I could. I wanted them to be as ugly and horrifying as the war was." She sure succeeded.

Chicago was a key hot spot during the war, producing many artists and activists against the invasion. A whole room is pretty much dedicated to trashing LBJ, from LBJ, 1967 by Dominick Di Meo (a Chicago organizer and artist). LBJ is depicted atop a mountain of human skulls, in a none too subtle pointing of the finger.

LBJ Butcher, 1967, also by Di Meo, was even rougher, and were printed on actual aprons meant to be worn in street actions and public protests. Think about all of the Trump merch out there these days ... again, we haven't come very far in this area at all.

Another Chicago artist, Ralph Arnold addresses bigotry, social injustice, and the Vietnam war in his collage titled Above the Earth, Games, Games, 1968 portrays football players against U.S. soldier in Vietnam, to show how the media would attempt to normalize violence. Oh, Men ... you sure have wrecked a lot of lives.

Tet Inoffensive, 1968 by Ed Paschke looks like a photo collage, but was hand-painted. Butch Cassidy and John Wayne are alongside the famous Eddie Adams photo of a Vietnamese general shooting a Vietcong guerilla in the head and Ho Chi Minh smoking. All the tough guys. Ruining lives and the world. I was getting madder and madder the more I saw.

At first glance, Madame Nhu's BarBQs, 1963 by Wally Hedrick seems like a folk art sign for a deep south restaurant. Until you realize that it's about Thich Quang Duc, the Buddhist monk that set himself on fire to protest the Vietnamese government's oppression of Buddhists. Madame Nhu was a member of the South Vietnamese ruling family, and at the time publicly said that she was "willing to provide the gasoline for the next barbeque". Can you imagine being such a repulsive human being? Does she even get to be called a human being? No. She doesn't. Do not rest in peace, Madame.

Edward Kienholz was back with The Non-War Memorial, 1970/1972, an imagining of the thousands of soldiers killed in the war ... that he wanted to place in a chemically destroyed field in Idaho to portray the same destruction that had been done to Vietnam. It was an unrealized plan, but still cool.

Kim Jones created his "Mudman"  persona after serving in Vietnam. He walked Wilshire Boulevard for 18 miles from sunrise to sunset, and back again, wearing his structure of sticks covered in mud, to evoke the red dust of Vietnam. He confronted passersby with the reminder of the just-ended war, that for many like himself was still going on in their minds. His Mudman Structure (large), 1974 is there at MIA, bringing us all right back - to the future.

Humanscape 43, 1968 was by Mel (Melesio) Casas, a leading member of the Chicano art group, Con Safo. He had served and been injured in the Korean War (we never learn), and had learned that lesson himself. "The skills of war are killing," said Casas, and he also rightly believed that the war was financially motivated - like it almost always is. Gross.

The war ultimately ended, but its consequences resonate still. The show finishes with depictions of Southeast Asia today, addressing the exodus of its citizens, and the seemingly tranquil country of Vietnam today. Sixteen panels by Cy Thao represent the Hmong Migration, 1993-2001. The bright, cheery panels trace the history of Hmong people from their origin story to their immigration to Minnesota.

While in refugee camps, Thao saw others making "story cloth" tapestries, he saw the power of pictures to tell stories without words. Once you know your history, you can understand the world and your place in it a whole lot better, and Thao was hoping to give some closure to the generations that lived through the war.

Pipo Nguyen-duy ends the show with his modern photographs of life in Vietnam. Icarus, Father and Son, My Brother, and Bubbles, 2005-11. The photographs look happy and fresh and now, but upon closer examination, his brother is missing an arm from the war. Life goes on, but scars of war remain.

This show is very extensive, and though I know this story is long and seemingly comprehensive, it isn't. Hardly. There is so much more important art to see than what I have included here, made even more important by the storm clouds of war gathering again today in the news. This is the last weekend to see this gut-punch of a show curated by the Smithsonian American Art. There were slips of paper to write what this exhibit made you feel, and then hang with the others on the wall. So many of them said something like I have here ... Will we never learn? Have we not figured out that no one wins in war? The inclusion of so many female artists and Southeast Asian artists responding to this nightmare of American History make this an even more impressive - and inclusive - undertaking. I have a feeling it's going to stay with me a long, long time. Please go if you are able.

Artists Respond: American Art and the Vietnam War, 1965-1975 ends this Sunday, January 5th.

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