By November 1st, 2009 the final projects will published, but in the meantime, enjoy this gallery of our preliminary edits! Stay tuned.....
Saturday, October 24, 2009
Reshma Kirpalani
I was nervous driving to East Austin to meet Jese Web, the owner of Jae’Undreas hair salon. My pre-conceived notions about this area of town were doing their job well. Poverty. Theft. I hid my gear as best as I could in the back seat of my car.
Jese was the ultimate myth-buster. He was open, warm and welcoming. He had dreadlocks and a smooth singing voice.
Jese rolled quick, honeyed dreads into his customers’ hair. Even as he worked, his energy lifted the entire salon. This is an intelligent man who should be weathered from hurricane Katrina and the subsequent, uninvited relocation it required. Instead, he serves. His customers, his community and his God are on the receiving end.
By 3p.m. Jese and I are both tired and hungry. He dishes up steaming plates of sausage, beans and corn bread from his salon, selling a home-cooked Louisiana meal to his new East Austin family. Jese cooks and sells these meals daily, as a sensible solution to a tight budget. But it also creates a community, as employees and customers alike break sweet corn bread.
Before he warms himself a portion of lunch, he scoops beans and rice into a plate and hands it to me. “What you doing?” he asks when I reach for my wallet. “Uh-hu,” he says, shaking his head no. Then he asks what I would like to drink.
During our interview, I learned that Jese is an adoptive father of 10. In this economy - in any economy - that is either crazy benevolence or profound love. But, rather than surprising me, this seemed to explain this man’s quickness to laugh and sing.
When you have the unequivocal largeness of heart to choose that type of responsibility, everything else seems small in comparison. And maybe everything else – economic woes and the wants they thwart – is small.
Thank you Jese for your perspective and the tremendous story of inspiration it can be for others.
Jese was the ultimate myth-buster. He was open, warm and welcoming. He had dreadlocks and a smooth singing voice.
Jese rolled quick, honeyed dreads into his customers’ hair. Even as he worked, his energy lifted the entire salon. This is an intelligent man who should be weathered from hurricane Katrina and the subsequent, uninvited relocation it required. Instead, he serves. His customers, his community and his God are on the receiving end.
By 3p.m. Jese and I are both tired and hungry. He dishes up steaming plates of sausage, beans and corn bread from his salon, selling a home-cooked Louisiana meal to his new East Austin family. Jese cooks and sells these meals daily, as a sensible solution to a tight budget. But it also creates a community, as employees and customers alike break sweet corn bread.
Before he warms himself a portion of lunch, he scoops beans and rice into a plate and hands it to me. “What you doing?” he asks when I reach for my wallet. “Uh-hu,” he says, shaking his head no. Then he asks what I would like to drink.
During our interview, I learned that Jese is an adoptive father of 10. In this economy - in any economy - that is either crazy benevolence or profound love. But, rather than surprising me, this seemed to explain this man’s quickness to laugh and sing.
When you have the unequivocal largeness of heart to choose that type of responsibility, everything else seems small in comparison. And maybe everything else – economic woes and the wants they thwart – is small.
Thank you Jese for your perspective and the tremendous story of inspiration it can be for others.
Friday, October 23, 2009
L.A. Reno
I’m in love. But, more importantly, I’ve just brought my lover to a cocktail party to meet all my colleagues and friends for the first time. I’ve been a little nervous about this whole thing. What if no likes her? What if no one gets her? And, more likely, what if she spills her bloody mary all over her dress…and everyone else’s while she’s at it?!
Two years ago, I drove over the Atchafalaya river delta for my first time, heading southeast from Austin to New Orleans. I had been in grad school at UT for about two months and had embarked on my first trip to the Crescent City with a carload of classmates to go photograph musicians. The thick air with its pungent smells of salt water entered my body and immediately felt known.
As we pulled into the city at three in the morning under the thick fog of one hundred percent humidity, with Spanish moss dripping off the Live Oak tress that taunt the roofs of shotgun homes painted in a myriad of colors, the feeling of fluency intensified. In less than twenty minutes I found myself standing outside in the courtyard of the old orphanage turned hostel where we were staying, and saying out loud, with total conviction, “This is where they’ll bury me.”
The next morning while driving through the 8th Ward, an unfamiliar sound began to rock the car windows. A tuba boomed and gurgled its way around trombones and trumpets somewhere in the neighborhood. With cameras in hand we jumped out and followed that sound until we found its source. Photographing a Jazz Funeral as it organically wound its way through a neighborhood of skeletal Victorian homes with piles of debris that laid like corpses in the streets two years after the storm, I fell fully in love with this god-forsaken place.
As one of the student leaders on this year’s trip back to New Orleans to photograph the effects of the national recession on the city’s limping economy, I find myself taking it all a bit personally. I want my fellow students to love this place and see it for what it is: A completely corrupt, impoverished, and gluttonous mess that is overflowing in beauty, creativity, and cultural richness.
Truth is both elusive and relative in this complicated place. The national media has reported that the city is “insulated” from the recession that is choking most of the country. But as New Orleans' economy remains propped up by federal dollars from the reconstruction after the storm, the budding journalist inside us all has to wonder how true those reports can be.
As the students embark on their attempt to untangle their stories, I can only hope that no one is too distracted by the stain of a spilt bloody mary.
Two years ago, I drove over the Atchafalaya river delta for my first time, heading southeast from Austin to New Orleans. I had been in grad school at UT for about two months and had embarked on my first trip to the Crescent City with a carload of classmates to go photograph musicians. The thick air with its pungent smells of salt water entered my body and immediately felt known.
As we pulled into the city at three in the morning under the thick fog of one hundred percent humidity, with Spanish moss dripping off the Live Oak tress that taunt the roofs of shotgun homes painted in a myriad of colors, the feeling of fluency intensified. In less than twenty minutes I found myself standing outside in the courtyard of the old orphanage turned hostel where we were staying, and saying out loud, with total conviction, “This is where they’ll bury me.”
The next morning while driving through the 8th Ward, an unfamiliar sound began to rock the car windows. A tuba boomed and gurgled its way around trombones and trumpets somewhere in the neighborhood. With cameras in hand we jumped out and followed that sound until we found its source. Photographing a Jazz Funeral as it organically wound its way through a neighborhood of skeletal Victorian homes with piles of debris that laid like corpses in the streets two years after the storm, I fell fully in love with this god-forsaken place.
As one of the student leaders on this year’s trip back to New Orleans to photograph the effects of the national recession on the city’s limping economy, I find myself taking it all a bit personally. I want my fellow students to love this place and see it for what it is: A completely corrupt, impoverished, and gluttonous mess that is overflowing in beauty, creativity, and cultural richness.
Truth is both elusive and relative in this complicated place. The national media has reported that the city is “insulated” from the recession that is choking most of the country. But as New Orleans' economy remains propped up by federal dollars from the reconstruction after the storm, the budding journalist inside us all has to wonder how true those reports can be.
As the students embark on their attempt to untangle their stories, I can only hope that no one is too distracted by the stain of a spilt bloody mary.
I-Hwa Cheng
I remember the French Quarter crowded with tourists taking carriages, music all over Bourbon Street and fresh oysters with beers from my little trip with families eight years ago. People here seemed to be ready for any small talk in any time.
But it’s also a city that has been through hell and waiting to be reborn.
At 2:30pm, it was a 75-degree breezy sunny day. I was standing right before French Market and looking confused. It seems like things have not changed much.
“I think Katrina is a chance for other musicians who have been wanting to play in Bourbon Street or French Quarter,” said a man standing behind a Jazz album booth. “When I came back I was surprised to see that many new ones have replaced the old ones, which is good I think,” he smiled, in a “big easy” attitude.
At 5:30pm it was a little bit cooler and breezy, but still a sunny day. I was with Alex from the Buddhist Tzu-Chi Foundation of New Orleans. He happened to be a tourist guide, so he drove me around and showed me the houses in the area that was rebuilt only for musicians.
But when I went to the area that has been affected the most, many houses were still abandoned with spray painted crosses. I was about to cry.
In Taiwan, we just had the worst flood in 50 years caused by a hurricane three months ago and hundreds of people died.
Now I am standing here and looking at this horrible scene of this country. Somehow I felt guilty.
For the first 24 hours here in Big Easy, it was really worthy. But it’s been a long day. I have to close my eyes and slow down quite a bit.
I’m not here to change anything, but I was changed.
But it’s also a city that has been through hell and waiting to be reborn.
At 2:30pm, it was a 75-degree breezy sunny day. I was standing right before French Market and looking confused. It seems like things have not changed much.
“I think Katrina is a chance for other musicians who have been wanting to play in Bourbon Street or French Quarter,” said a man standing behind a Jazz album booth. “When I came back I was surprised to see that many new ones have replaced the old ones, which is good I think,” he smiled, in a “big easy” attitude.
At 5:30pm it was a little bit cooler and breezy, but still a sunny day. I was with Alex from the Buddhist Tzu-Chi Foundation of New Orleans. He happened to be a tourist guide, so he drove me around and showed me the houses in the area that was rebuilt only for musicians.
But when I went to the area that has been affected the most, many houses were still abandoned with spray painted crosses. I was about to cry.
In Taiwan, we just had the worst flood in 50 years caused by a hurricane three months ago and hundreds of people died.
Now I am standing here and looking at this horrible scene of this country. Somehow I felt guilty.
For the first 24 hours here in Big Easy, it was really worthy. But it’s been a long day. I have to close my eyes and slow down quite a bit.
I’m not here to change anything, but I was changed.
Stephen Tidmore
According to the Downtown Development District of New Orleans, there are many projects underway in the downtown area. Nine have been recently completed, 14 are under construction, five are in the pre-development state, and 14 have been planned or announced. With all this construction and renovation, is the recession having any effect on the Central Business District and surrounding areas? To start looking for answers, I met with Brian Gibbs of Gibbs Construction and Jeannie Tidy, Real Estate Development Manager with the Downtown Development District.
Most of the projects underway are residential; some are hotels, offices, and historical renovations. One example is the 21-story building going up at 930 Poydras Street. It will contain 250 apartments stacked on top of an eight-story parking garage and is expected to have its first residents by the end of 2009. Gibbs is the developer for the building and it’s a prime example of a major project springing up in the midst of the recession. According to Gibbs, there’s no way a project like his would ever be possible without the federal and state tax incentives that have been poured into certain areas of New Orleans since Hurricane Katrina. In some ways, this assistance has helped shield those areas from any severe effects of the recession, but Gibbs offered another reason why New Orleans hasn’t been hit hard. “We never really had the big up, so we’re not gonna get the big down”, Gibbs said.
After touring the construction project with Gibbs, I met with Jeannie Tidy to learn more about the Downtown Development District (DDD) and the projects they’re working on. The mission of the DDD is “to drive the development of downtown New Orleans and be the catalyst for a prosperous, stimulating, innovative heart of the Crescent City.” Among other things, they offer assistance with finding property for lease or purchase, assist developers and building owners with federal and state incentives, offer retail support with a specific emphasis on historic Canal Street, and run a façade improvement project. In meeting with Tidy, it became immediately clear that they have big plans for downtown New Orleans and aren’t slowing down for the recession one bit.
Most of the projects underway are residential; some are hotels, offices, and historical renovations. One example is the 21-story building going up at 930 Poydras Street. It will contain 250 apartments stacked on top of an eight-story parking garage and is expected to have its first residents by the end of 2009. Gibbs is the developer for the building and it’s a prime example of a major project springing up in the midst of the recession. According to Gibbs, there’s no way a project like his would ever be possible without the federal and state tax incentives that have been poured into certain areas of New Orleans since Hurricane Katrina. In some ways, this assistance has helped shield those areas from any severe effects of the recession, but Gibbs offered another reason why New Orleans hasn’t been hit hard. “We never really had the big up, so we’re not gonna get the big down”, Gibbs said.
After touring the construction project with Gibbs, I met with Jeannie Tidy to learn more about the Downtown Development District (DDD) and the projects they’re working on. The mission of the DDD is “to drive the development of downtown New Orleans and be the catalyst for a prosperous, stimulating, innovative heart of the Crescent City.” Among other things, they offer assistance with finding property for lease or purchase, assist developers and building owners with federal and state incentives, offer retail support with a specific emphasis on historic Canal Street, and run a façade improvement project. In meeting with Tidy, it became immediately clear that they have big plans for downtown New Orleans and aren’t slowing down for the recession one bit.
Blake Gordon
I ended up wandering around the Ninth Ward. I had to go.
What really overwhelmed me about the area were two things. One, as I was wandering through this space, I would see others wandering via car or even tour bus. They were clearly not from the area and were tourists. Generally, we have a resentful attitude toward tourism, though we almost all participate in it and it sustains a lot of the places we value. But beyond the cliche tourist act was a sense that the people here, including myself, were genuinely curious and concerned about this area - an area that was generally labeled as neglected after Katrina. So what struck me about the phenomena was what I sensed to be a genuine concern about the people and place here.
The other thing was nature. In an area I anticipated to be heavy with the painful memories of loss and destruction, I encountered a pastoral land. A sinking fall sun, clear blue skies, a gentle breeze, temperatures in the upper 60s, grass whispering in the wind, birds speaking to one another were the environmental conditions in which I walked around this place for several hours in the afternoon. The land had reclaimed itself in many places, passing no judgment on the place. I was in the country more than anywhere else. I felt completely at ease. It was a serene place.
Sure, there are issues at hand, there is work to be done, and the struggles are not my own, but I sensed the larger apolitical movements of our world in which we are part of and which will continue regardless of our actions. This world we're in can release oppressive and destructive forces. But on a fall afternoon like today, one cannot help but notice the relaxing exhale of its rhythms amidst a vast serene indifference.
What really overwhelmed me about the area were two things. One, as I was wandering through this space, I would see others wandering via car or even tour bus. They were clearly not from the area and were tourists. Generally, we have a resentful attitude toward tourism, though we almost all participate in it and it sustains a lot of the places we value. But beyond the cliche tourist act was a sense that the people here, including myself, were genuinely curious and concerned about this area - an area that was generally labeled as neglected after Katrina. So what struck me about the phenomena was what I sensed to be a genuine concern about the people and place here.
The other thing was nature. In an area I anticipated to be heavy with the painful memories of loss and destruction, I encountered a pastoral land. A sinking fall sun, clear blue skies, a gentle breeze, temperatures in the upper 60s, grass whispering in the wind, birds speaking to one another were the environmental conditions in which I walked around this place for several hours in the afternoon. The land had reclaimed itself in many places, passing no judgment on the place. I was in the country more than anywhere else. I felt completely at ease. It was a serene place.
Sure, there are issues at hand, there is work to be done, and the struggles are not my own, but I sensed the larger apolitical movements of our world in which we are part of and which will continue regardless of our actions. This world we're in can release oppressive and destructive forces. But on a fall afternoon like today, one cannot help but notice the relaxing exhale of its rhythms amidst a vast serene indifference.
Anya Vaverko
Reading about New Orleans in preparation for this reporting trip, I kept coming across articles about the “revitalization” of the city by young optimistic entrepreneurs. Interested in learning more about this growing number of creative young people being drawn to New Orleans, I contacted several of them to talk about what drew them to the city and how they were faring.
I started by meeting with Nathan Rothstein, the former Executive Director of the New Orleans Young Urban Rebuilding Professionals Initiative (YURP), a group whose mission is to create a support network to connect, retain and attract young professionals from diverse backgrounds for a sustainable New Orleans. Along with Nathan, I met his friends Alexis Leventhal, Hampton Barclay, and Jeff Brusaic, all of whom moved to New Orleans after Katrina. We spent the afternoon talking about why they were drawn to this city, the opportunities and challenges they face, the responsibilities they feel and what they envision for the future of New Orleans. Though confirming that change is slow here with factors like old political structures and racism still very much in existence, newcomers like them were drawn to New Orleans because it was a place where they could have the power make a difference, both in the city and in their own careers. Because so few emerging entrepreneurs were living here, they say, people just starting out were able to get opportunities that would have taken years to find in a larger city.
Later in the afternoon, I talked to Tess Monaghan, Director of Operations of Build Nola, a non-profit company that builds new houses and helps clients with the rebuilding process. Coming from the big business world of New York City, she says doing business in New Orleans feels completely different because it is so much more personal. Just by living here, everyone feels they have a stake in rebuilding the city.
That was the sentiment echoed at a happy hour gathering of University of New Orleans Urban and Regional Planning students organized by Alexis, who is a graduate student in the program, as well as a member of YURP. Everyone I spoke to has come here for a reason from all over the country- to learn from the unique situation of the city, to create change, and to be part of the energy of revitalization that is thriving in New Orleans.
I started by meeting with Nathan Rothstein, the former Executive Director of the New Orleans Young Urban Rebuilding Professionals Initiative (YURP), a group whose mission is to create a support network to connect, retain and attract young professionals from diverse backgrounds for a sustainable New Orleans. Along with Nathan, I met his friends Alexis Leventhal, Hampton Barclay, and Jeff Brusaic, all of whom moved to New Orleans after Katrina. We spent the afternoon talking about why they were drawn to this city, the opportunities and challenges they face, the responsibilities they feel and what they envision for the future of New Orleans. Though confirming that change is slow here with factors like old political structures and racism still very much in existence, newcomers like them were drawn to New Orleans because it was a place where they could have the power make a difference, both in the city and in their own careers. Because so few emerging entrepreneurs were living here, they say, people just starting out were able to get opportunities that would have taken years to find in a larger city.
Later in the afternoon, I talked to Tess Monaghan, Director of Operations of Build Nola, a non-profit company that builds new houses and helps clients with the rebuilding process. Coming from the big business world of New York City, she says doing business in New Orleans feels completely different because it is so much more personal. Just by living here, everyone feels they have a stake in rebuilding the city.
That was the sentiment echoed at a happy hour gathering of University of New Orleans Urban and Regional Planning students organized by Alexis, who is a graduate student in the program, as well as a member of YURP. Everyone I spoke to has come here for a reason from all over the country- to learn from the unique situation of the city, to create change, and to be part of the energy of revitalization that is thriving in New Orleans.
Tara Haelle
I've been to New Orleans several times before, but only briefly as a tourist. As a journalist, I would report on health care, as I've done the past several months in other regions. At the Lower 9th Ward Health Clinic, executive director Alice Craft-Kerney explained only about 10 percent of their clients have insurance. She said most patients work but simply cannot afford insurance premiums, even if their employers offer a plan. Craft-Kerney and Patricia Berryhill, the clinical director, gave me a clear picture of the challenges 9th Ward residents face in meeting health care needs, and I was pleasantly surprised and grateful for their openness.
Reporting on health issues is difficult with so many sticky privacy issues, and it's easy to hit brick walls in contacting clinics and medical practitioners. When I first contacted Craft-Kerney by phone a few days ago, however, she immediately began filling me in on the difficulties faced by her patients, and Berryhill didn't hesitate in agreeing to help me find patients who would share their stories.
Once I arrived in New Orleans, their willingness to help my job as a reporter became part of a bigger pattern. At the clinic, Craft-Kerney gestured to the waiting room, suggesting I speak to anyone there. The first man I spoke to answered my questions directly but warmly, as though I were his long-time neighbor; the next two women I interviewed spoke just as freely. I'm used to people needing a bit of cajoling or sometimes feeling a little uncomfortable, but there was none of that reticence here.
As I spoke to more people throughout the day and compared notes with a few of my colleagues, I decided that New Orleanians are friendly and open - as my past visits had shown true - but they also understand the media and its positive potential. Unlike people in any other place I reported, they welcome journalists and appreciate the good it can do to tell their stories. This discovery was not only refreshing but also somewhat reassuring. People here don't seem to harbor that automatic suspicion of journalists that can often makes our jobs tough, the same suspicion that sometimes makes me question my own motives. After a 55-year old woman told me about her depression and family problems, she said she felt better - and she looked better too, less tense. So often as a photographer and reporter, I feel like an intruder, but I really felt I had helped this woman by listening. Already, reporting here was different than any other place I've reported.
Reporting on health issues is difficult with so many sticky privacy issues, and it's easy to hit brick walls in contacting clinics and medical practitioners. When I first contacted Craft-Kerney by phone a few days ago, however, she immediately began filling me in on the difficulties faced by her patients, and Berryhill didn't hesitate in agreeing to help me find patients who would share their stories.
Once I arrived in New Orleans, their willingness to help my job as a reporter became part of a bigger pattern. At the clinic, Craft-Kerney gestured to the waiting room, suggesting I speak to anyone there. The first man I spoke to answered my questions directly but warmly, as though I were his long-time neighbor; the next two women I interviewed spoke just as freely. I'm used to people needing a bit of cajoling or sometimes feeling a little uncomfortable, but there was none of that reticence here.
As I spoke to more people throughout the day and compared notes with a few of my colleagues, I decided that New Orleanians are friendly and open - as my past visits had shown true - but they also understand the media and its positive potential. Unlike people in any other place I reported, they welcome journalists and appreciate the good it can do to tell their stories. This discovery was not only refreshing but also somewhat reassuring. People here don't seem to harbor that automatic suspicion of journalists that can often makes our jobs tough, the same suspicion that sometimes makes me question my own motives. After a 55-year old woman told me about her depression and family problems, she said she felt better - and she looked better too, less tense. So often as a photographer and reporter, I feel like an intruder, but I really felt I had helped this woman by listening. Already, reporting here was different than any other place I've reported.
Eun Jeong Lee
My first impression of New Orleans was very friendly. Unlike New York or any other city I have been to in the USA, people here seem quite open to others and it felt like home on my first day in New Orleans. The topic I chose for my trip is tourism, which I think somehow connects to my first impression of New Orleans because I believe many tourists must have felt the same way as I did.
Related to ‘economy’, I am here to do a story on St. Vincent’s Guest House – by the way, it is the place where we are staying for our trip. It was was founded by the Daughters of Charity order of nuns in 1861 as an orphanage. As I walked around the guesthouse alone today meditating about the slaves who once built this place, it felt quite ironic that this place was meant to be built to help orphans who were the people who need love and voices – just what the slaves must have neeeded back then.
But I do feel good to be in a place where Margaret Haughery, an orphaned Irish immigrant to New Orleans, dedicated her life to help the sufferings of children. She provided most of the funding for the Daughters of Charity.
So back to the point, I chose this place because I was curious about what kind of people visit here and what kind of place St. Vincent is. According to a guest house employee, St. Vincent’s experienced a decline in business during the first half year following Katrina but people slowly came back. So I found this place very interesting as it is 148 years old and the business is still going good unlike other businesses that went down sharply after Katrina. (By the way, this place is one of the first buildings in New Orleans with an elevator).
As I feel more comfortable photographing and reporting such a quiet place like this, I wish to report well as I go on to learn to be a better photojournalist. So far, things went smoothly with friendly people willing to talk about the history of this guesthouse and its business status. And I hope for the rest of our shooting days, I show them well through my camera.
Related to ‘economy’, I am here to do a story on St. Vincent’s Guest House – by the way, it is the place where we are staying for our trip. It was was founded by the Daughters of Charity order of nuns in 1861 as an orphanage. As I walked around the guesthouse alone today meditating about the slaves who once built this place, it felt quite ironic that this place was meant to be built to help orphans who were the people who need love and voices – just what the slaves must have neeeded back then.
But I do feel good to be in a place where Margaret Haughery, an orphaned Irish immigrant to New Orleans, dedicated her life to help the sufferings of children. She provided most of the funding for the Daughters of Charity.
So back to the point, I chose this place because I was curious about what kind of people visit here and what kind of place St. Vincent is. According to a guest house employee, St. Vincent’s experienced a decline in business during the first half year following Katrina but people slowly came back. So I found this place very interesting as it is 148 years old and the business is still going good unlike other businesses that went down sharply after Katrina. (By the way, this place is one of the first buildings in New Orleans with an elevator).
As I feel more comfortable photographing and reporting such a quiet place like this, I wish to report well as I go on to learn to be a better photojournalist. So far, things went smoothly with friendly people willing to talk about the history of this guesthouse and its business status. And I hope for the rest of our shooting days, I show them well through my camera.
Eva Hershaw
On south Reynes, another house is marked with the spray paint. The signage is always the same: four quadrants filled with numbers, letters, and symbols that have little meaning to the passerby. Below the quadrants, a clearer message: A dog dead. Walking the tattered streets of the Lower Ninth Ward, it’s hard to believe that this death was marked four years ago.
The majority of houses in this neighborhood have been relatively untouched since the waters of Hurricane Katrina climbed their walls in 2005.
A mere ten meters to the west, vibrant chatter among neighbors provides a stark contrast to the silent, boarded houses. There are few residents that were able to return to the lower ninth ward in the aftermath of Katrina. Estimates range between 20 and 25% of the original population.
Leonard Fly is one of two residents that returned to his block in the Lower Ninth Ward when the floodwaters retreated. On a perfectly clear Friday afternoon, he lifts his welding mask and removes his oversized yellow gloves. After explaining my camera and audio recorder, we take an inventory of the houses on his block.
“Ain’t nothing changin’ here.” He smiles. “Looking around, you’d think these houses were worth quarters.”
Fry, owner of Fry Brothers Construction, is a seventh generation construction worker. One of the central ideas that our team has come to New Orleans to explore, or perhaps discount, is the media’s portrayal of the City as ‘recession proof’. Construction, in all accounts, is the industry responsible for such vitality.
When asked how his construction business was faring, his response was unequivocal. “Pitiful,” he says, “the thing is that we imported all these out of town laborers, sub-standard builders that are doing the work for little or no money.”
It’s a question of quality and speed, he explains, that while there is money coming into New Orleans, it primarily reaches nonlocal investors. “This money doesn’t stay within in the circulation in the City. The people of New Orleans are feeling the recession worse than ever.”
His father’s figure appears in the doorway. “Fish is done!” The smell of Cajun spices has reached the back yard, the definitive end of our discussion.
The reminders of destruction and loss are everywhere in the Lower Ninth Ward, the ongoing struggles undeniable. Yet, on a Friday evening, the smells and laughter that emanate from the Fry home are comforting. For those who have returned, this is home.
The majority of houses in this neighborhood have been relatively untouched since the waters of Hurricane Katrina climbed their walls in 2005.
A mere ten meters to the west, vibrant chatter among neighbors provides a stark contrast to the silent, boarded houses. There are few residents that were able to return to the lower ninth ward in the aftermath of Katrina. Estimates range between 20 and 25% of the original population.
Leonard Fly is one of two residents that returned to his block in the Lower Ninth Ward when the floodwaters retreated. On a perfectly clear Friday afternoon, he lifts his welding mask and removes his oversized yellow gloves. After explaining my camera and audio recorder, we take an inventory of the houses on his block.
“Ain’t nothing changin’ here.” He smiles. “Looking around, you’d think these houses were worth quarters.”
Fry, owner of Fry Brothers Construction, is a seventh generation construction worker. One of the central ideas that our team has come to New Orleans to explore, or perhaps discount, is the media’s portrayal of the City as ‘recession proof’. Construction, in all accounts, is the industry responsible for such vitality.
When asked how his construction business was faring, his response was unequivocal. “Pitiful,” he says, “the thing is that we imported all these out of town laborers, sub-standard builders that are doing the work for little or no money.”
It’s a question of quality and speed, he explains, that while there is money coming into New Orleans, it primarily reaches nonlocal investors. “This money doesn’t stay within in the circulation in the City. The people of New Orleans are feeling the recession worse than ever.”
His father’s figure appears in the doorway. “Fish is done!” The smell of Cajun spices has reached the back yard, the definitive end of our discussion.
The reminders of destruction and loss are everywhere in the Lower Ninth Ward, the ongoing struggles undeniable. Yet, on a Friday evening, the smells and laughter that emanate from the Fry home are comforting. For those who have returned, this is home.
Spencer Selvidge
Jambalaya, red beans and rice, gumbo, Étouffée, dirty rice, meuniere, bread pudding, king cake, beignets.
All are hallmarks of New Orleans cooking; Creole at its most complex and finest.
“Creole” can only be described as the convergence of French, Spanish, Carribean, Mediterranean, Southern American, Indian and African cooking. With tinges of British, Irish, Italian, German, and Greek mixed in for good measure.
On most any of the winding streets in New Orleans you can find Creole cooking. From a hole-in-the-wall Po’boy shop in Slidell to the fine dining of Emmeril’s and Brennan’s in the French Quarter, the city is a Creole-gourmand’s center of the universe.
In fact, New Orleans and the surrounding geography is where the world that is Creole came into existence.
Mother’s, located at 401 Poydras St. in the Central Business District, is a local institution and tourist magnet. According to owner-manager Gerard C. Amato, “fifteen to two-thousand people a day” come through the doors during the week.
And many more on a busy weekend.
The line really picks up around 10:30 a.m. or so on a normal day and doesn’t slow down till 4:00 p.m. Then the dinner rush starts.
Patrons, who range from everyday regulars, business travelers and international tourists, must first wait in line outside. They are held there because inside there’s simply too many people to successfully move around the crowded interior. Once in the door, Gerard Amato and Joe Balderas greet them, saying “Take a menu out of the box, stand in line, order at the counter and take a seat.”
If a visitor doesn’t catch on fast, any one of a plethora of employees will notice and come to the rescue.
After successfully ordering, they wait. They wait for a table and for their food but they don’t wait to see, hear and smell.
Stacie Robinson, a veteran waitress of 8 years, gleefully asks “How you doin’, baby?!” with a welcoming smile to everyone she passes. All the while the smells of the jambalaya, red beans, and pounds and pounds of fried seafood assault the senses. The clamoring of dishes, cooking, conversation and people shuffling in and out never ends for 15 hours a day.
If you don’t come hungry, you get there fast. And if you don’t leave happy, you are a most uncommon visitor to Mother’s.
All are hallmarks of New Orleans cooking; Creole at its most complex and finest.
“Creole” can only be described as the convergence of French, Spanish, Carribean, Mediterranean, Southern American, Indian and African cooking. With tinges of British, Irish, Italian, German, and Greek mixed in for good measure.
On most any of the winding streets in New Orleans you can find Creole cooking. From a hole-in-the-wall Po’boy shop in Slidell to the fine dining of Emmeril’s and Brennan’s in the French Quarter, the city is a Creole-gourmand’s center of the universe.
In fact, New Orleans and the surrounding geography is where the world that is Creole came into existence.
Mother’s, located at 401 Poydras St. in the Central Business District, is a local institution and tourist magnet. According to owner-manager Gerard C. Amato, “fifteen to two-thousand people a day” come through the doors during the week.
And many more on a busy weekend.
The line really picks up around 10:30 a.m. or so on a normal day and doesn’t slow down till 4:00 p.m. Then the dinner rush starts.
Patrons, who range from everyday regulars, business travelers and international tourists, must first wait in line outside. They are held there because inside there’s simply too many people to successfully move around the crowded interior. Once in the door, Gerard Amato and Joe Balderas greet them, saying “Take a menu out of the box, stand in line, order at the counter and take a seat.”
If a visitor doesn’t catch on fast, any one of a plethora of employees will notice and come to the rescue.
After successfully ordering, they wait. They wait for a table and for their food but they don’t wait to see, hear and smell.
Stacie Robinson, a veteran waitress of 8 years, gleefully asks “How you doin’, baby?!” with a welcoming smile to everyone she passes. All the while the smells of the jambalaya, red beans, and pounds and pounds of fried seafood assault the senses. The clamoring of dishes, cooking, conversation and people shuffling in and out never ends for 15 hours a day.
If you don’t come hungry, you get there fast. And if you don’t leave happy, you are a most uncommon visitor to Mother’s.
Jenn Hair
The first time I came to New Orleans was with a group of thirty or so college students in March 2006, the spring after Hurricane Katrina. We came to volunteer through Common Ground Relief with the goal of contributing to the forces of recovery that were at work in the city. By day we gutted houses, but at night, as we were young and in New Orleans, we explored the city’s nightlife. This confluence of volunteerism and tourism has since been dubbed “voluntourism,” and according to Lt. Governor Mitch Landrieu, has had a major impact on the city’s recovery through both the volunteer work and the tourism money that has funneled into the city as a result. The notion of coming to New Orleans for volunteer work and play has become highly popular, with the city visitors bureau website directly linking to “voluntourism” information on their homepage and local corporate event planners integrating volunteer connections into their offered services.
Now I find myself back in the city not as a volunteer but as a journalist exploring the role of voluntourism in the New Orleans economy. I used the first day of my visit to conduct an interview with the managing partner of a planning company, Shelley Rote of Signature Destination Management. They offer team-building programs that include single days of volunteer work for visiting corporate groups. However, Ms. Rote noted that they hadn’t had a request for such a service for nearly six months up until yesterday, when they had a group looking for a small service opportunity. Her perception of this downward trend was that it coincided with the outbreak of the global recession. In particular, corporate travel expenses may have been curbed if they seemed distasteful in light of recent visible excesses of Wall Street firms like AIG. On the other hand, adding volunteerism to corporate travel agendas can have the affect of legitimizing a company’s motives for business trips to New Orleans.
Tomorrow is Make a Difference Day, an event founded by USA Weekend magazine to promote a national day of service. Luckily our trip falls on this date, and I will have the opportunity to go to a local event to photograph and interview some volunteers. I’m hoping to meet some out-of-towners who have come here for the purpose of volunteering as well as enjoying the city, both of which are activities that can help further the revitalization of New Orleans.
LINKS
Common Ground Relief: http://commongroundrelief.org/
Lt.Gov. Mitch Andrieu:
http://blog.nola.com/tpmoney/2009/01/landrieu_advocates_master_plan.html
New Orleans Visitor Bureau: http://www.neworleanscvb.com/
Signature Desitnation Management: http://www.signature-dmc.com/
AIG on the NYT: http://www.nytimes.com/2009/03/15/business/15AIG.html
Nat’l Make a Difference Day: http://www.usaweekend.com/diffday/aboutmadd.html
Now I find myself back in the city not as a volunteer but as a journalist exploring the role of voluntourism in the New Orleans economy. I used the first day of my visit to conduct an interview with the managing partner of a planning company, Shelley Rote of Signature Destination Management. They offer team-building programs that include single days of volunteer work for visiting corporate groups. However, Ms. Rote noted that they hadn’t had a request for such a service for nearly six months up until yesterday, when they had a group looking for a small service opportunity. Her perception of this downward trend was that it coincided with the outbreak of the global recession. In particular, corporate travel expenses may have been curbed if they seemed distasteful in light of recent visible excesses of Wall Street firms like AIG. On the other hand, adding volunteerism to corporate travel agendas can have the affect of legitimizing a company’s motives for business trips to New Orleans.
Tomorrow is Make a Difference Day, an event founded by USA Weekend magazine to promote a national day of service. Luckily our trip falls on this date, and I will have the opportunity to go to a local event to photograph and interview some volunteers. I’m hoping to meet some out-of-towners who have come here for the purpose of volunteering as well as enjoying the city, both of which are activities that can help further the revitalization of New Orleans.
LINKS
Common Ground Relief: http://commongroundrelief.org/
Lt.Gov. Mitch Andrieu:
http://blog.nola.com/tpmoney/2009/01/landrieu_advocates_master_plan.html
New Orleans Visitor Bureau: http://www.neworleanscvb.com/
Signature Desitnation Management: http://www.signature-dmc.com/
AIG on the NYT: http://www.nytimes.com/2009/03/15/business/15AIG.html
Nat’l Make a Difference Day: http://www.usaweekend.com/diffday/aboutmadd.html
Curt Youngblood
New Orleans carries the cultural banner of Louisiana, and growing up in Shreveport, I have had a strange relationship with the city. It's like the cool kid who lives down the street. I got to go visit every once in a while, but I never got to be a real friend. I remember going on field trips to the Zoo, aquarium, D-day museum, and just about every other attraction. In college, I read articles about the city, its levees, and of course, Mardi Gras. My background with the city gives a false sense of familiarity and understanding. When discussing this project with colleagues, I continually found myself stating “facts” with the utmost certainty.
Eventually, the day comes to leave Austin and head to the Louisiana, and I can hardly sit still in anticipation. I get giddy as we cross the state line and sense a rush of familiarity. About the time I feel that I could not possibly survive one more minute inside of a moving vehicle the Superdome comes into view and I have a revelation. I'm not the cool kid. I'm the nerd from down the street, and I have no idea what New Orleans is all about.
For this project, I am working with Sweet Home New Orleans, a nonprofit that works with musicians. The organization was founded shortly after Hurricane Katrina to help displaced musicians return to New Orleans. I find this organization is extra interesting because of its changing commitment to the cultural strength of New Orleans. Now that it has brought the musicians back to the city, Sweet Home is attempting to rebuild their careers. For example, the organization has recently begun paying guarantees to working musicians. Since Katrina, many of the clubs have not seen a significant enough income to provide such assurances to musicians. Instead, music gets played for door charges or tips. Today, I was lucky enough to speak with several of Sweet Home's employees, who gave some interesting perspectives on New Orleans's economy and the recession. I am looking forward to working with some musicians tomorrow and figuring out how they stretch their paychecks.
Eventually, the day comes to leave Austin and head to the Louisiana, and I can hardly sit still in anticipation. I get giddy as we cross the state line and sense a rush of familiarity. About the time I feel that I could not possibly survive one more minute inside of a moving vehicle the Superdome comes into view and I have a revelation. I'm not the cool kid. I'm the nerd from down the street, and I have no idea what New Orleans is all about.
For this project, I am working with Sweet Home New Orleans, a nonprofit that works with musicians. The organization was founded shortly after Hurricane Katrina to help displaced musicians return to New Orleans. I find this organization is extra interesting because of its changing commitment to the cultural strength of New Orleans. Now that it has brought the musicians back to the city, Sweet Home is attempting to rebuild their careers. For example, the organization has recently begun paying guarantees to working musicians. Since Katrina, many of the clubs have not seen a significant enough income to provide such assurances to musicians. Instead, music gets played for door charges or tips. Today, I was lucky enough to speak with several of Sweet Home's employees, who gave some interesting perspectives on New Orleans's economy and the recession. I am looking forward to working with some musicians tomorrow and figuring out how they stretch their paychecks.
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