My experience in Columbus was unexpected, to say the least. On first arriving, I was struck by its metropolitan infrastructure. I was anticipating Ohio to be less urbanised than it was. Citizens of Columbus, I discovered, were very entrepreneurially-minded, and so Columbus proved itself to be a good introduction to and representation of the US's entrepreneurial spirit. The city itself is differentiated by an ongoing (and widely-acknowledged) process of ‘gentrification’ and ‘renewal’, owed mostly to its large student population. Even more differentiating of Columbus is the philanthropic attitude that tinges every business model of its small businesses. There exists a kind of ‘philanthropic entrepreneurialism’. This entrepreneurial culture validated itself to me in the people I met and the experiences I had.
When I first arrived, I took myself to a coffee shop to wait around for my Couchsurf accommodation host, Melanie. It turned out to be just one of very popular coffee shops that students and young entrepreneurs would flock to, primarily to find their next business partner. I had walked in expecting to perch myself in front of my laptop until my host arrived; instead, I walked out having made acquaintances with two different locals, met a local artist who was interested in painting for my project, and met a graphic designer who was willing to make a logo for my project. The first young man I met – also a student –immediately struck up a conversation with me at the paying till, having overheard my British accent that was a rare sound in a city little visited by outsiders. He was curious: primarily about why I came to Columbus and about my project. Shortly into our conversation, he offered to take me on a tour of the city. He showed me around the University, Goodall library, fraternity houses and other popular spaces. Afterwards, I returned to the coffee shop, only to be approached once again, seconds into being alone, by two locals sat just behind me. Both also students, Rob was originally from Panama with a curiosity and free-spirit like my own, and Lauren was a painter. Rob made it his job to know everybody in Columbus; he was the master of networking, and knew that he could get anything and get anywhere by knowing everyone. He was fascinated by my project, and appreciated its creativity. He was keen to learn about how he could do a personal project of his own on the same scale. For now, he was eager to help me with the project and share with me his pride for the city that he had studied in. He introduced me to a graphic designer who was also in the café at the time, and who was willing to create a logo for my project without charging anything, simply because that’s how people in Columbus make their way – it is an “I scratch your back, you scratch mine” economy. By building a close network so easily as this, you can reach out to anyone to get turn your ideas into tangible reality. The openness, willingness and generosity shown by the residents of Columbus is bred out of an unspoken culture of reciprocity, which upholds an expectation that your network will support you as well as, and only if, you support them. From my experience, everyone held and trusted in these values. The forwardness that had been shown to me, but also genuine curiosity, demonstrated the value that residents in Columbus attach to networking.
Though we did not speak much at the time, Lauren (the painter at the table) and I kept in touch over Facebook. We especially built a relationship when I reached out to her to share the incredible art that I encountered later in my travels in Santa Fe. With continuous dialogue, we began to brainstorm about my project: I proposed that she might use my soundscapes as inspiration for her art. She told me that she had been thinking the same, and eventually we came to an exciting agreement for the collaboration. The art that she produces is very abstract, usually with lots of colour. Likewise, my soundscapes capture ‘colour’ in sound because of the diversity and variety of the sounds I captured. My soundscapes would be a perfect tool piece and inspiration source for her art, and so we agreed that she would make a collection of art work based on this. Lauren and I will begin this collaboration once the report has been submitted and all the soundscapes are available for her to listen to online.
Rob met with on both next two days that I was in Columbus. He took me to more coffee shops where the coffee was yet more strong and brimming with more student ideas than the coffee cups were with caffeine. Rob introduced me to some of his student friends, who themselves had been involved in a lot of charity and voluntary work. As Rob and I walked the city, he described the gentrification that the city was subject to. Many businesses would ‘test out’ their ideas or business models in Columbus, and if they proved successful, would then expand elsewhere, considering this test in Columbus a valid estimate of success elsewhere. This was primarily because of the student population – if it was successful with students, it is thought, it will be successful in any urban city. Businesses are constantly emerging. There is a new jazz bar, a new juice bar, and an old warehouse converted into an arts space for trapeze classes. There are old schools converted into arts studios and living spaces. There are car garages turned into restaurants, and restaurants turned into exhibitions. The economy in Columbus is all still new and burgeoning, but growing at a steady rate. The food market is also a very popular place for the small corporate community to grab their lunch. One of the many successful brands to have been incubated in Columbus is the infamous brand of ice cream that began in Columbus, called Jenny’s Ice Cream, which many inhabitants take pride in. It is known to be one of the best artisanal ice cream brands in America – that is some feat given the sheer size of ice cream providers in the USA!
In the evening, Rob and I attended a jazz night at a small, sophisticated bar serving craft IPAs. It was recently established by an Israeli entrepreneur who I met that evening. I had been spotted with my recorder which sparked up the conversation. He had also opened a very successful bar in San Francisco, and after a brief conversation about my future visit there, he invited me to visit him at the bar when I would find myself in that city. The evening was very popular amongst locals, with people enjoying the sophisticated vibe and craft beer there, taking pride in the establishment of these businesses that provide nightlife, and momentum, for the city.
One very interesting encounter I had was with a couple of photography artists. Rob knew of an artist in the coffee shop we met in, who knew of these two artists. I was given the number of one of the pair, Sarah, and text her if it would be possible to meet up with her. She was very open to the idea for my project, and agreed to have me visit. The following day, I paid a visit to her studio – it was in an old school that was converted into a variety of artists studios and living rental space. The building spaces were rented out solely to artists, to breed an environment where creativity could flourish. I felt honoured to be able to get access to this exclusive space, and speak with artists who were apart of this artistic cultural movement. From the outside, the building was run down and unassuming. The building was elusive yet reputable, known as the Milo Arts Centre. Inside, was the same, until I entered her studio that was shared with two others, one of which was her business partner and friend. Sarah was incredibly warm and inviting, as was her friend, Noel. Their studio was the epitome of an artist’s creative space: film reels hung by pegs from a washing line, vintage clothing racks scattered around the room, and the tools of an artist laying haphazardly everywhere. I had a long chat with them about how they used the space, the creative projects they worked on, and the work that they had been involved with. I also got an exclusive look at some of the work they had produced and expertise they developed in photography. Their specialism was in using old film to create images. Sarah decided to show me just what they do with their 50-year old cameras. Outside, she snapped a portrait of me on Kodak film that expired 17 years ago. It came out green and eery, but surprisingly clear and very ethereal. She added me to her portfolio, and sent me on my way with a vintage dress and disposable cameras with an offer to develop my photos free of charge, in their homemade dark room, a space that they would use to rent out for income.
When I was not getting an exclusive insight into the in-house development and processing of film in an artist’s studio or chatting with jazz bar entrepreneurs, I spent time getting to know my Couchsurf host. An experience on Couchsurf is very unpredictable. Mine certainly pushed me out of my comfort zone. Melanie was someone whose profile would appear quite simple and ordinary, but whose past was far more eclectic and hence whose character was unpredictably unusual. She was a shy character, but would DJ for audiences in her spare time, and practiced on her retro turn table. Her favourite genre, and that which should would produce DJ sets for, was techno, but she could also be found listening to a very particular genre of music: noise. Yet more surprising was that she took trapeze art. Other than that, she was a vegan and lived in a small flat with a 9-to-5 office job. I was open-minded during my stay. She kept small, sentimental items, such as voodoo dolls, out of nostalgia and had them dotted all around her flat. On the first night, we kept it civilized: we shared a meal in a relaxed, artisanal restaurant, where she disclosed more detail about her personal life than expected of this unusual arrangement. The following night, she brought me along to a music event taking place at a house nearby. She had suggested it would be ideal for my project. Little did I know how intimate it would be. The event was more akin to a house party: we were both surrounded by strangers – Melanie knew of no one there herself – and there were groups of people who vaguely recognized each other and might have said hello. The house was small and crowded. A man was walking around almost naked. The ‘music event’ took place in the basement, which was particularly small but equipped with huge speakers. These were speakers that stretched from floor to ceiling, whose bass was turned as high as possible and volume sustained an almost intolerable level. The two men playing their guitars were very talented. For those who like the genre, it is generously called introspective music. I will admit it was not to my taste. To enjoy the music, it felt as though I needed to numb my feelings and let the music overtake me – which I believe is what many enthusiasts of this genre find so compelling. However, the effect that the noise had on me was to simply run far away from it, if I am being honest with myself. The sound was loud and, as best as I can describe it, invasive. It felt as though my insides would explode if it were exposed to vibrations any more violent than those produced by such high decibels. Out of courtesy, I withstood it for the entire 25-minute set. Despite feeling very out of my comfort zone, I was very glad to have attended. It was particularly insightful to discover that there was an audience who appreciated this genre; my curiosity was fulfilled and I came to understand just what this genre of noise was. There were times that I thought the music was very moving. I could appreciate the form of art that it was: the ability to play such an intricate piece live with the variety of equipment they were using.
The music scene that I had witnessed that evening was almost diametrically opposed to the sophisticated jazz scene that I had attended with Rob. There existed audiences for both genres in Columbus, and for that reason, the city proved more diverse than you would have thought if you were only to spend your time in its coffee shops. Importantly, I expect that this would be true of a lot of cities; I was only experiencing it in Columbus because I had been staying with a host who did not conform to the dominant culture of her city. Likely, there will always be a group of individuals in every city that hold quite different values and have different tastes to what can be deduced of its peoples in the public eye. In Columbus, I was given first-hand insight into a ‘local’ experience: it was an experience I could not have had without befriending a local in the city, and not available to just any visitor. These were the kinds of experiences that give individuality to my project. These were kind of experiences I could only have had because of my project and the decisions I made in keeping with the project.
Another local experience that I was fortunate enough to have had was my visit to a trapeze class with Melanie. Melanie took trapeze classes in her spare time, a hobby that she began several years ago when these classes first arrived in Columbus. I was pleasantly surprised, and intrigued, when we arrived at the location where the classes were held. They took place in an old warehouse space, whose windows were too misty and too high to see through from the outside; the rest of its features were run down and industrial in appearance, giving away nothing to those unwilling to venture inside. Inside, however, was a flourishing creative scene. (This, to me, symolised so much of Columbus’ character. Columbus would reveal nothing to those unwilling to explore it, but when you enter its territory and open yourself to its culture, you will discover just how unique the city is.) Much of the warehouse space was divided into individual boxed, white rooms that were either studios for artists or a private space for some other pursuit. One of the back rooms was rented out for an unusual style of fighting/wrestling: the fighters would wear costumes and masks and assume a fabricated alter-ego. The remainder of the space was used for public events like the trapeze classes. The trapeze class was very popular and the teachers experienced. Despite its unassuming location, there was yet again an audience who enjoyed something very different – this was defining of Columbus: its power to draw people like this together, whatever it was that they enjoyed. This was part of the renewal movement, where old spaces were turned into something creative, where a community was developing and where Columbus was growing.
Many of the experiences I have mentioned demonstrate the entrepreneurial mind-set that pervades the city. The first friend that I made in the coffee shop on my first day, Michael, has proved to epitomize this mind-set. At the time we met, he was launching and organising a 10K running event across Columbus that would raise money for an important cause and promote fitness and health across the city. We have kept in touch, and during the time since we met, he has launched a Kickstarter campaign to fund the creation of an album that himself and his fellow singing friends have made, in the hope of pursuing his passion for singing and music-making. As previously mentioned, I also met a great many people who were artists, mostly self-employed and attempting to make a living from freelance work, which again exhibits the entrepreneurial attitude of locals in Columbus. A (different) coffee shop that I visited with the two photography artists, Sara and Noel, used the art produced from different locals to decorate the walls. More importantly, it was a means of showcasing the art of local artists to help them to sell their art and make a name for themselves. This was just one example of the philanthropic business model that the coffee shops, and other businesses in Columbus, adopted. The coffee house that I first visited, Roosevelt Coffee, likewise took this model. It describes itself as a “non-profit coffeehouse with a charitable mission serving artisan-roasted espresso & light fare”. If you visit its website, it boasts a three-fold philanthropic mission: clean water provision, fighting hunger, and fighting human trafficking. This philanthropic philosophy runs rampantly across all of Columbus, defining its business models, and in many ways, creating a measure of success that is determined by extent of a charitable outcome that is achieved.
The final feature of Columbus I wish to highlight (and have mentioned briefly) is the level of openness. The openness I encountered was sometimes warming, and sometimes questionable, if not slightly discomforting. Armed with my large rucksack – which I will admit, makes me stand out – I was walking away from the library ready to wander about the city and further explore its quirks, when a man walking past me in the opposite direction, without prompt, asked me, “Oh, where you goin’?”. I did not know him, nor did anything occur that would draw us into conversation. His curiosity, boldness and frankness took me completely by surprise. Why was it his business? Why did he want to know? What made him think that it was his right to know, or that I would want to share that with him? I did not know how to respond, but tried to spontaneously give an answer that would quickly dismiss this unanticipated encounter, primarily to protect my safety and to avoid raising further questions. Another similar instance occurred when I took the bus to the Milo Arts Centre to visit Sara. I was stood close to the front of the bus, close enough for the women driving the bus to ask me questions. She was especially curious about how I ended up here, what I was doing, and what my plans were. However, the conversation was very public: we were surrounded by others, and the driver spoke at a volume that made the conversation audible to the entire bus cohort. It was not sensible to disclose the information that she wanted so publicly, and neither did I have reason to disclose information to her that was so personal. I was again struck by the curiosity and frankness of her questions, that seemed to have no filter or sensitivity to the privacy that their answers might have.