The Stroll, penned and drawn by Andy Sturdevant
, is a weekly look at the art, architecture, history, and visual culture of the Twin Cities — with each article focused on one geographic area, shown in a hand-drawn map. The Stroll draws readers’ attention not only to traditional works of visual art but also to architecture, street art, historic sites, public art, advertising, artists’ projects, and events on the streets and sidewalks around town.
These wild perennials are a feature of the prairie landscape, and are most abundant in places where the prairie has been managed or restored – that is, very few places in the city proper.
36½ is one of the longer half-streets in the city – it runs for three blocks between 21st and 24th Avenues, beginning at Folwell School and terminating at a row of one-story houses.
If the Replacements were the Beatles and Minneapolis was Liverpool, Bryant Avenue would be choked with signs and historical markers pointing out heritage sites along the way.
Bloomington was built to be navigated and experienced by automobile, and the idea of a “downtown” commercial district is a very 19th-century one that just doesn’t apply.
There is only one town in the metro with three towers that are each roughly the same height as the IDS tower stacked on top of the Wells Fargo Center, and that town is Shoreview.
A farmer is said to have “looked into the law, found the lake was meandered, and as much his as the club’s.” The gun club’s response was to send in local deputies “armed to the teeth and ready for combat.”
As I walked along country roads to Northfield, I assembled my own ad-hoc set of rules.
It takes a certain type of borderline insane narcissism to think a book you wrote is still going to be read and cherished in a century, but I’m so grateful the writer took the shot.
The brand of civic one-upmanship on “The Simpsons” probably sounds kind of familiar to anyone who lives here and follows local culture or politics.
These public condemnations are accomplished in a blur of condescending Mad-magazine-style nicknames, relatively sober analysis, Strib commenter humor, sports-talk-radio bravado, and a great deal of deep historical perspective.
This massive undertaking was done all in the name of modernization. These old names, it was said, “were sacrificed by the iconoclastic spirit of modern convenience.”
The cornerstone of what is now the Grand Hotel was laid in 1913 by a 75-year-old man who’d just walked 1,546 miles from New York City in exactly two months, at a rate of about 25 miles per day.
This isn’t a comprehensive list. For the sake of simplicity, I am only listing venues that are publicly accessible.
Yes, the big Bob Dylan mural is on the list. But some of the others are a bit less visible.
At 4:10 p.m., half the streetlights on the High Bridge are already on when I arrive. At 4:30, the Schmidt Brewery sign turns on — three minutes before sunset.
I realize I’m leaning pretty heavily on the Mediterranean references. But of course we don’t have a Mediterranean Sea in Minneapolis. What we do have is the Mississippi River.
The sculpture of Olson on Minneapolis’ north side is more elegant and shot through with symbolism than its more utilitarian counterpart on the Capitol mall.
On the street today we find the residue of early suburbs, mansions and wealth, and especially the rise and decline of a certain facet of urban automobile culture.
Most of the rest of Snelling is as straight as a cruise missile, barreling through the urban landscape. This meandering portion stretches around the topography of the bluffs.
Minnesota Point — otherwise known as Park Point — is a true geographic peculiarity that looks in person like it does on a map: very narrow.