Minneapolis. When I was choosing a college, it was too far away. Now that I am an adult, it cannot be close enough.
I am a small-town girl, no doubt. I find comfort in the confines that I so often push up against. When I get my wings in the the form of four wheels on my Toyota Corolla, however, I fly south for the weekend to the city that I consider the Minnie-Apple—like New York, but cuter.
While I love both halves of the Twin Cities, this metropolitan area is the apolis-of-my-eye for its ever-kitschy, forever artistic scene. In fact, after this trip, it is obvious that Minneapolis could easily be called Muralapolis for its abundance of creatively-painted walls that seemed to hang on every corner. If it isn’t the murals, it is the classic architecture. It is the quintessential meeting of old and new. It is the thriving sports market loyal to teams who maybe aren’t quite as thriving. It is the blurred edges of nature seeping into the city.
Whatever it is, it is great.
A couple of weeks ago, I spent a weekend right in the heart of downtown Minneapolis, just me and a couple of cameras. One of those was a sturdy old Nikon F3 film camera, which proved to be just as hard of a worker as it was back in its glory. When filled with a roll of Ektar 100, it brought a different side of Minneapolis alive—a richly painted, articulated city center with a personality as big as the artists who have called this place home. From Dylan to Prince to any star on the wall around First Avenue’s 7th Street entrance, each have made a mark on a this city that continues to make impressions on the world.
Scroll through to see the marks Minneapolis made upon film frames…
*I apologize for the couple under-exposed frames…my wide angle apparently isn’t the biggest fan of film.