Earthblog

Want to be dazzled, depressed, informed, and inspired? Let the Beehive Design Collective swarm around your head on December 9th as they unfurl their latest graphic-based picture lecture about MOUNTAINTOP REMOVAL: THE TRUE COST OF COAL.

There will be two opportunities to witness the unique art and activism from the Bee’s—a campus event in the basement of The Lory Student Center at 2pm and then again at 7pm at The Bean Cycle/Matter Bookstore. Both events are free and open to the public, though donations are appreciated to keep the Bee’s in honey and comb.

According to the word on the street, it was standing room only the last time the Bee’s were in town, so it’s this reporter’s advice to get to one of the venues early for a good seat. The Bee’s hail from Maine, but their decidedly grassroots-ways keep them swarming in from all different directions. Their uncanny, dare-I-say magical approach to educating the public is a treat in itself; the fact that they have something important and timely to say actually makes me believe we can figure out how to shift culture and fix a few problems before it’s too late.

It’s no secret that we are in a real pinch with energy these days. Do we glow nuclear, following France? Or do we turn the sky brown with coal? Can renewables actually make enough of a difference with the ever-expanding world population? Can we consume less? I say: Let’s listen to the Bee’s and come together differently as a community, city, state, nation, and world.

Courtesy of The Fort Collins Rabbit

I  want a flower on my cheek, Say-wo!”

Aurora, not yet 3, pushed an index finger, muddy from playing in her yard, onto the precise spot on her chubby cheek where she insisted I paint a flower. With her other hand, she very diligently pointed to each color she determined I should use from a face painting kit, which I had in my car as a stroke of luck, on one of the first of many visits to her home. She was, fortunately for me, more interested in process than product, and quite forgiving of my inept artistic skills. Regardless, looking at the creation in the bathroom mirror became part of our ritual. When she nodded approvingly, at what was, in reality, barely recognizably a flower, I knew I had a friend for life.

Aurora is one of seven children who lived on Grape Street off of North College Avenue, just north of Albertsons. I first met her, her family and her community on a brisk October 26. I went there with Flora Teran, a volunteer for the Center for Justice, Peace, and Environment (CJPE), a grassroots, local nonprofit organization where I work as the coordinator.  We went there because we knew that the residents of the neighborhood would be displaced for the North College Marketplace. A mega shopping center, the Marketplace will be anchored by a new King Soopers, twice as big as any other in Fort Collins.

Article and photos by Jason Hardung

The Gentrification of Park Street
(Part one of a two part series)

The sun is going down. It pushes through the trees that line Park Street. A thirty something man and woman hold hands and swing them in unison, one of them points at a rose bush and they keep walking, both smiling. A few newer model cars drive by. It is quiet. I pedal my Schwinn slowly. I was told there is some sort of gentrification happening in this area. When I hear the word gentrification, I think of genocide, or maybe the opposite of gentlemen. I am looking for something like graffiti being brushed over by a commissioned artist, maybe some drug dealing going on, chained pit bulls digging circular ruts in front yard, guns, knives, broken crack pipes in the gutter intermingled with compostable coffee cups.

Read more: YOU TELL ME THIS TOWN AIN'T GOT NO HEART?

Article and photos by Jason Hardung

The Gentrification of Park Street 
(Part one of a two part series)
 

The sun is going down.  It pushes through the trees that line Park Street. A thirty something man and woman hold hands and swing them in unison, one of them points at a rose bush and they keep walking, both smiling. A few newer model cars drive by.  It is quiet.  I pedal my Schwinn slowly. I was told there is some sort of gentrification happening in this area.  When I hear the word gentrification, I think of genocide, or maybe the opposite of gentlemen.  I am looking for something like graffiti being brushed over by a commissioned artist, maybe some drug dealing going on, chained pit bulls digging circular ruts in front yard, guns, knives, broken crack pipes in the gutter intermingled with compostable coffee cups.  I'm dreaming of gay pride parades, punk rock clubs, trendy coffee shops, new lofts overlooking the city as single male financial planners with black rimmed glasses haul $5000 mountain bikes up the stairs to their Chuck Palahniuk books, vintage fedoras, and their bulldogs named Kerouac.  I am waiting for Bill Clinton to move his office here, but I see none of it.  The only things around here are “quaint” homes built a long time ago.  By the way, “quaint” means small in real estate terms (800 or 900 square feet), but by no means does it mean dilapidated.  The yards are manicured.  Backyard gardens are prevalent.  Sunflowers look down on me with their big faces.  Buddhist prayer flags stretch across the porch of one home; a United States flag hangs limp next door. This is a “working class” neighborhood I have been told. I am confused—this isn't the gentrification I know and have stereotyped so well.  I keep riding down the street.  I see a wooden sign in the one recently vacant lot in the 400 block.  The home was bulldozed by the bulldozer that sits in limbo. The sign has a box of fliers attached to it, so I take one, like it says to. It is an advertisement for Sovick Builders with hand drawn pictures of four home models to choose from, all of them built with “green” components and options.  I think I have found the distant cousin of the gentrification I know so well.  The flier reads, “This Carpenter Cottage home draws its architectural flavor from the surrounding neighborhood while incorporating an efficient modern floor plan.  It is solidly constructed with green building materials and methods while retaining the look and feel consistent in Old Town.  Special emphasis was placed on creating a comfortable high quality energy-conserving home.”  There are artist renderings of the four different homes: the Craftsman, the Contemporary Prairie, the Old Town Bungalow and the granddaddy of them all, the Carpenter. I now understand the term McMansion. It's like a menu for home buying, “Yes, I think I'll have the Carpenter in an olive green, with burnt sienna trim. Thank You.”