Paid my second visit this afternoon bringing my wife Susan for her first visit to the cornfield at the Not A Cornfield Project between Chinatown and Lincoln Heights. Beyond getting hassled by The Man (actually it was just a rent-a-theman) for checking out the apparently off-limits pomegranate trees at the far northern end of the property, and getting pissed off that my digicam’s batteries decided to fade, there was still good fun to be had. I caved into the urge to charge off the path and headlong deep into the narrow rows of 10-foot high, ear-laden cornstalks (not recommended for any clautrophobes), and by the time we’d done a lap around the amazing maize, the weekly drum circle had gotten underway within the “eye” of the corn and we grooved to the communal rhythms emanating there for awhile.
People can debate all they want about the project’s artistic relevance, and it’s all just blahblahblah. To me, it’s brought living photosynthesizing beauty to previous deadspace, and its uniqueness is drawing people together who wouldn’t otherwise ever set their parking brake in that part of town. And the cool juxtaposition of acres of corn waving against the backdrop of downtown’s skyline make it a place that should be seen ó especially before the harvest starts at the end of the month.