Dear Other People,

So we knew we were headed to Detroit, but as you know, we’re driving a ginormous RV full of cameras and computers and lights and stuff, and we had no idea where we were gonna park it…

Luckily, our pal Brian and his wife Carrie (and new puppy Isabel) had just moved from Brooklyn to D-town so we gave ‘em a call and asked ‘em if they had any suggestions on what to do and see, if he knew of any cool stuff that folks were up to, and maybe, just maybe, could he suggest a place to put ol’ Molly the Thirty-Foot Creampuff.  Brian, being the cool guy that he is, was like , “Sure, I got some suggestions!”

He passed us the digits of his friend, Serra, who is a member of an art collective called Rabid Hand.  They are a Brooklyn-based group as well, but they had been living the last few months in an old abandoned warehouse in Detroit, cleaning it out and building a giant installation.  We called her up, and she was like, “Our opening is Thursday. Come on out!” 

So we did. We rumbled through the cracked and craggy streets of Highland Park (an allegedly even rougher suburb of Detroit) and, after a bit of searching, came upon an old busted building next to a fenced-in grassy lot.  We pulled into the field (putting some planks under our tires so we wouldn’t sink) and went to check it out.  Folks were putting the finishing touches on a massive series of structures all made from found wood and junk from the building.  There was a stepped pyramid, a hanging room (seen here), a giant red tower, a swinging bridge – all for folks to walk on, climb over and explore.  And people were living in there too.  They’d rigged up a working bathroom, an outdoor kitchen, and were taking electricity from the light pole nearby. 


That night, more friends and artists came by to check out the space.  Bands played , there was a zip line, and even a homemade carnival ride called the Regurgitator!

Candace and I slept in the RV in the field and woke the next morning to find everyone around us in tents.  In the morning we had some of the folks help us with a shot for our narrative, too.  We also found out that the field we’d stayed  in that night was legally owned by England.



Who’d have thought our RV would have made it to England?



Mad Thanks to all the Folks in Rabid Hand,

         John and Candace