Two weeks ago I left home without any particular destination in mind. I headed south, in the direction of downtown Oakland and ended up at Frank Ogawa Plaza. Not necessarily a destination in the tourist guidebooks. No matter. This evening, my eyes were opened.
Apart from being the first Friday of June, and hence another installment of the popular Oakland Art Murmur, it was not supposed to be a special night. But in the pre-dusk light downtown Oakland came to life. Not the people - there are still hardly any of those after business hours -- but the buildings. Carefully restored edifices like the Fox and the ornate, purplish Art Deco jewel housing Flora, Flat Iron Building look alikes and and flat, bare, grey boxes all, suddenly, stood out. They were saying, "We are here." Perhaps they've been saying this. But on this night, I heard. There were many stories.
A lot could be said of Oakland's diversity. Its diverse diversity. The variance and flux of the downtown architecture fits this theme. It is so diverse that there are edifices for which "architecture" hardly seems befitting. Homages to Le Box, uglier than the public parking lots they abut, arouse and reveal my prejudices. The box-building had its heyday. As did Art Deco. Now they must coexist.
Likewise, the area that is now (deliberately) called Uptown is populated by segments - or segments within The Segments - who unblinkingly disregard one another. Most who live in this area say, and I am among them: "Not me; I welcome all." I am not so sure, though. On this night my view of downtown's permanent residents, its buildings, shifted into a deeper, higher gear. And so I reckon, my perception of the people, all the people, could use a shift as well.
