#commissions are still technically open - I just have a small backlog to work through before I'd be actively promoting them again

[pityroadart]

Something from the other week ago now: a pair of Lando and Oscar eyes for the lovely @bright-and-burning 👁

I used a different watercolour palette for these than my previous eyes, and I really really enjoy the colours and depth of them.

Daniel Smith watercolours (+ a bit of Polychromos coloured pencil in the irises) on Stonehenge Aqua cold press heavy 100% cotton 600gsm paper, approx 2.5x3.75" each

[princessyennenga]

The Left Hand Rocks the Cradles - Chapter 2

Previously ...

Scott adjusted his blazer around his shoulders with a shrug.

“Someone with your talents should just accept that offer at a larger, reputable and profitable paper where she can build on the potential for a career legacy. Instead of chasing followers, likes and shares.”

After another 30 minutes, Iris had filled more pages with notes and quotes about the new hospital wing. After working this room, and Scott working her nerves, she was ready to wrap up this assignment. Then the message notification jingled on her phone and re-energized her. It was Barry. Instead of texting a reply, she stole away to a quiet spot near a water fountain and called him back.

“Hi Babe. So good to hear your voice,” Iris breathed.

“Oh yeah?” she could hear Barry’s face open up into a smile on the other end.

“Of course. You're my sunshine,” Iris laughed lightly, still touched that he appreciated her love so much.

“I do my best. So I take it that means your press conference and tour went well?” he said. Iris could hear the clink of heavy glass in the background. A young girl's voice rasped ‘Daddy. Dad! We don't have enough nitric--’ For a brief moment, Barry was distracted, probably by Nora wanting to ‘help’ him with his backlog of cases.

“Hang on just a second Iris, OK?” Iris gave him gave leave to help their daughter, the time traveler, get situated to begin her first round of analysis and reports for the day. He returned with a sigh.

“Just had to get Nora --”

“Situated, yeah, I understand. Listen, you’ll probably need to supervise her, so I’ll let you go --”

“Not so fast, Mrs. West-Allen!” he chided softly. “Catch me up on how things are going. I know you were wondering if Scrat Evans was going to show up …”

“It’s Scott, Barry,” Iris corrected, only half sternly. “And we agreed to take the high road about me having to see him for work every now and then, right? We're not going to be seventh grade about this?”

“Oh yeah! High road. Completely!” Barry assured so earnestly Iris could feel green eyes widen and his head nod. “I mean, I have no reason to dislike the guy. Feel bad for him, actually. Denied!” 

“Barry ...”

“He couldn’t even get a second date … and that coffee at Jitters was technically a story meeting, and not … ”

Just then Iris saw an elegant Black woman with thick salt and pepper hair, cut stylishly short, come into view just 20 feet away.

“Barry, I promise to fill you in when I get to S.T.A.R. Labs later,” Iris said. “I just spotted Theresa Merkel, and she would be good for the article.”

After Barry signed off with few endearments, Iris adjusted the strap of her large tote bag over her shoulder and bobbed through the crowd until she reached Theresa Merkel.

“Mrs. West-Allen. Hello again,” Theresa nodded calmly. “I didn't realize your coverage included the healthcare sector.”

Iris and Theresa exchanged greetings, but not too many pleasantries or small talk. Still, there was no awkwardness between them as Iris got straight to her questions.

“Mrs. Merkel, there was a small footnote near the back of the expansion budget report --” Iris said.

“The budget report?” Theresa was taken aback. “But financials are confidential. How did you obtain …?”

“Just. Connections, I guess,” Iris shrugged.

“And incredible resourcefulness! Well, continue.”

“It was a $13 million line item denoted by ‘PM’ …” Iris said. As she talked, Theresa’s mood shifted noticeably, but not toward hostility. She nodded slowly and took a soft, deep breath, and for a brief second Iris registered a very similar feeling to the one she read from Cecile when Jenna had kept her up for much of the night.

“Yes, well. A $13 million budget item, in my view, was a starting point to address some of the issues that have come to light in Central City recently,” she sighed. “I was not the only hospital board member to realize that many lives have been touched and changed in many ways. More than we can understand.”

Iris looked slightly puzzled, but before she could ask any more questions, a well-built man, fashionably bald, came along and looked eager to steal Theresa’s attention. Theresa recognized him instantly, as ‘Donovan,’ and excused herself from Iris. ‘More than we can understand’ echoed in Iris’ mind as she shook hands with several more hospital staff members while making her way to the coat rack. Most of the journalists for the city’s two largest newspapers had already fled to their offices to write up what they considered fluff pieces before moving on to meatier stories. Their hospital items might get boiled down to a full-page story in the Picture News, or a quick photo story leading the City section of the Central City Tribune, the city’s premiere broadsheet. 

The phrase was reminiscent of what Barry, or The Flash, then The Streak, had told Iris during their first rendezvous on the Jitters rooftop. As she tried to pry out of him how he could do what he did, he answered

‘There’s more to this than you can understand.’

Iris had felt slightly challenged by his answer. How did he know what she was capable of understanding and what concepts were beyond her grasp? His answer, almost a dismissal had fired her curiosity to really dig into who he was. It led Iris to a world of metas.

Barry was right when he excitedly drew a circle around that dot on his equation board in circle around that dot on his equation board in his CCPD lab. The particle accelerator had opened an entire field of science that Central City, and the world, were just beginning to explore.

‘Fully understand.’ Was Theresa Merkel saying that there is a $13 million pediatric meta research facility here? At the children’s hospital?! It was a theory that, if proven to be true, would impact the lives of every citizen of this city, population 1.7 million. A story like that would finally put the Central City Citizen on the map as more than just a “citizen journalist” blog, or “amateur researcher’s” blog or … the “how funny” blog, as Iris had overheard a few hardened career women describe her publication at networking events.      Iris pulled her jacket off the coat rack and rushed out of the hospital. She had her own fluff pieces and bigger stories to plan.

After an easier ride away from the hospital, Iris was energized. She stopped at Jitters to find a quiet, familiar spot so that she could focus. She ordered a chai latte and a small scone, then settled into a favorite spot near one of the tall windows. The winter sun easily reached through bare trees and poured through the uncovered glass windows, warming Iris so much that she had to shake off the duster that she wore over her long-sleeved, wrap silk blouse. She set her phone to 'Do Not Disturb' and opened her laptop. After almost an hour, Iris sat up high in her chair and stretched. She posted a 750-word story to Google Docs for her freelance editor, Julie Greer, to pick up and review. Then she picked up feature stories a couple of college stringers had turned in: a profile on a tattoo artist, and an organization bidding for a paralympic training camp. Over the next 90 minutes Iris swiftly edited the two stringer’s stories and passed them to Julie for a second read. Then they would be placed in the queue for posting, both to the main Web site and to subscribers’ e-newsletters. Another 30 minutes went by as Iris checked emails: a programmer had sent a link for a sample redesign; Emmet, the commission-only ad sales rep had great news about a rideshare service and fashion subscription Website.

And then a peculiar message: one from Theresa Merkel. Actually, her executive assistant. Iris leaned closer to her screen and craned her neck, taken aback at the outreach. Just as she had clicked it open and begun to read it, her video chat app intruded.

“MOM!!” Nora’s brown eyes wide with agitation, blocked the message. “Dad and I have been trying to reach you for the past hour. Where are you? What’s going on? Why is you phone going to voicemail??”

Then Barry’s face slid into the frame, his brows furrowed and his eyes peering into the lens. Iris suppressed a laugh behind her hand. Her adorable nerd husband forgot -- again -- that lenses do not always give up the secrets on the other end.

“I’m sorry, guys,” Iris uncovered her mouth. “Work got away from me a little bit.”

“Hey, no schr---!” Nora fired back.

“Nora!” Barry’s stern tone checked Nora’s language, but not her exuberance.

“Of course. Sorry Mom. But we have lunch plans, remember?” Nora said, glancing back at Barry. “You can’t just go offline for half the morning and not let us know. It’s like Dad says, ‘all family plans come first’.”  

Iris launched into a flurry of apologies as she snapped her laptop shut and collected the pens, notebooks and papers fanned out on the table. Just as she stood up and slid into her duster and camel hair coat, Iris heard the sound of a toddler giggling and babbling. She didn’t see a child, but noticed a brownie float off of another patron's plate, who was so distracted by her own phone that she barely noticed the brazen theft. Then, a young woman bustled past Iris' table, looking frantic. The alarm in the woman's face crested when she saw the dessert seemingly float away on its own. The young woman smacked the food away, causing it to hit the floor. She feigned clumsiness and apologized profusely to the woman who was sitting behind the empty plate, slapping a bill down on the table to pay for a replacement. Iris' interest is piqued when she noticed the young woman looking at the front door, as three more customers pushed the door wide open and walk in. The young woman hurriedly followed the swinging door and looked around. Then, thinking that no one had noticed her, she crouched down and appeared to grab thin air with her hand.

“Barry, Nora, I might be a little late for lunch …”

“Iris, come on! I haven’t seen you all day,” Barry took over the video chat while Nora was in the background grabbing their jackets. Of course, he had seen her just several hours ago, that morning, but to a speedster a few hours felt interminable. 

“Is it the blog relaunch,” he asked, “because you have to be careful not to overwork yourself.”

“No, no Barry, I’m on to something here,” then Iris lowered her voice to a whisper. “Of the *dark matter* variety …”

“Oh! Look, Iris be careful …”

“I will, I will,” Iris said hurriedly, and began to follow the young woman outside from a safe distance. “Look, Barry I have to follow up on this, but I’ll fill you in when I see you a little later. For lunch. Promise.”

After a round of “I love yous” Iris dashed off. She followed the young woman down a busy street, which was beginning to thicken with lunchtime crowds. Every now and then her arm appeared to lift away from her body, tugging her wildly. A couple of times the young woman stopped and looked around her, while Iris hid in a doorway. Finally, the young woman turned at the entrance to a quiet alley, where she crouched down again. She spoke quietly but firmly to *someone* until the air in front of her shimmered and a small child, about three or four years old, appeared. The young woman sighed and spoke to the child again, stroking his arm warmly. Then she took the child by the hand and they walked to a luxury sedan, where she buckled him into a carseat. Iris stayed out of sight as she watched the mother hand over a juice box before buckling herself in and pulling away.

[shirlleycoyle]

The Fight for Greener Neighborhoods Is a Matter of Life or Death

When Mychal Johnson speaks at schools in the South Bronx, where he lives, there’s one question he always asks the students: Do you know where there’s water near here? Not water to drink, but water to see, to smell, to experience?

Johnson, a founding member of the local advocacy coalition South Bronx Unite, which focuses on the South Bronx neighborhoods of Mott Haven and Port Morris, says the children usually have no idea. But here’s the thing: The South Bronx is a peninsula with rivers on three sides. So, why don’t the kids know that? Because before getting anywhere near that water, they’d have to contend with a tangle of intersecting freeways first.

Not only would kids seeking the fresh river air need to cross the highways, they would also be forced to deal with the trucks traveling to and from them. The South Bronx waterfront is a major food distribution hub with thousands of diesel trucks going in and out of it every day. The trucks pollute the air to some of the highest levels in any city in the country, and the warehouses they frequent double as unsafe areas for pedestrians and cyclists seeking a little nature. But the Bronx River itself, which was once called an “open sewer” by a city commission, is now a National Parks Service-recognized water trail with kayaking and abundant wildlife. So what could be valuable public greenspace is, instead, an impermeable industrial barrier.

Partially because of all the industrial activity, the South Bronx has the highest amount of air pollution in the city, according to the New York City community health profile. It also has among the highest rates of obesity, diabetes, and hypertension in New York. Mott Haven, in particular, has been nicknamed “Asthma Alley” for having the highest rate of youth asthma in the country.

Johnson has long been trying to convince city officials that those conditions need to change. In 2012, South Bronx Unite, alongside other residents and community groups, sued the city in an attempt to block the grocery delivery company FreshDirect from receiving $127.8 million in taxpayer subsidies to open a hub in the South Bronx, which would add some thousand diesel trucks to the daily load the neighborhood already carried. As Johnson told the New York Times in 2013, he hoped that site could be used as waterfront green space instead. “It would be devastating,” he said at the time, if the FreshDirect deal went through. “We would have lost an opportunity to truly create something to increase the quality of life in our community.” But the lawsuit was unsuccessful.

Now, as coronavirus has swept the world, the Bronx is proving to be one of the hardest hit parts of New York City, itself one of the hardest hit cities in the world.

There is a growing body of research that suggests exposure to air pollution is linked to higher coronavirus death rates. Earlier this month, researchers from Harvard’s School of Public Health drew a direct line between air pollution and coronavirus fatalities. They found that only a small increase in a type of air pollution commonly found in tailpipe emissions is associated with a 15 percent increase in coronavirus death rates. Another study by a researcher from the Martin-Luther University Halle-Wittenberg in Germany looked at satellite data to compare nitrogen dioxide levels (a pollutant primarily from vehicle exhaust) in Italy, Spain, France and Germany with their respective COVID-19 death rates. On the regional level, the study found a strong correlation between air pollution and higher death rates. “These results indicate that the long-term exposure to this pollutant may be one of the most important contributors to fatality caused by the COVID-19 virus in these regions,” the study concluded, “and maybe across the whole world.”

While COVID-19 fatality rates are not yet available by zip code in New York, of New York City’s five boroughs, the Bronx as a whole has the highest infection rate: 1,962 per 100,000 people, according to the New York City Department of Health as of April 18. And the zip code containing Mott Haven and Port Morris has a similar infection rate.

Johnson said the coronavirus crisis, and seeing what the virus has done to his neighborhood due to its heightened risk from pre-existing conditions, is reinforcing what he’s long been fighting for. “I think there’s a new sense of urgency,” he told me over the phone after making his son lunch. “Green space and access to recreational activities is vital to health.”

Researchers are still studying what makes some populations more susceptible to coronavirus than others, and no one is suggesting air pollution causes coronavirus infections or deaths. But we already know coronavirus has infected communities of color at higher rates—the South Bronx is 97 percent Black and Hispanic—and that the virus is twice as deadly for Black and Hispanic New Yorkers than white ones. These sobering statistics reflect existing health disparities between communities of color and white neighborhoods. They also reflect that Black and lower-income neighborhoods are more likely to be polluted.

Green space is an important part of that disparity. It’s hardly just the South Bronx, or merely neighborhoods in New York, that are realizing the consequences of not having more green space. In America’s 100 largest cities, about one-third of residents live further than a ten minute walk from a park, according to a 2017 study by The Trust for Public Land.

“It’s my observation as a person that has spent my entire career working in parks and public spaces that parks have never been more used or more appreciated by people at any time in American history than right now,” said Adrian Benepe, the senior vice president for The Trust for Public Land and former New York City Parks commissioner. “It’s an extraordinary moment of affirmation for their importance.”

Even before coronavirus called attention to green space, a large body of research has found that access to nature is more than just nice to have. It’s foundational to physical and mental health. There are all kinds of studies that prove nature’s benefits, including improved cardiovascular health, lower obesity rates, reducing heat effects, fewer symptoms of depression, and lower self-reported and biologically measured levels of stress. Humans have evolved over hundreds of thousands of years to need the outdoors to set our circadian rhythm, relax us, get exercise, and generally enjoy fresh air.

“Basically, nature is not an amenity,” Professor Marc Berman, who heads the Environmental Neuroscience Lab at the University of Chicago, told Motherboard. “It’s a necessity.”

But while we can all agree that parks are good, what’s tough is getting city governments to actually prioritize them and recognize their benefits enough to invest in them.

Running and maintaining parks accounts for a rounding error in most city budgets. New York City, for example, dedicates just half a percent of its annual budget to its parks. As a result, the parks that do exist face maintenance backlogs totalling almost $600 million, according to a 2018 report from the Center for an Urban Future. And that’s to say nothing of getting new parks built, a process that often takes years or even decades of grassroots advocacy.

One reason for this discrepancy is that parks are not considered “essential” city services, a technical term that triggers emergency funding mechanisms in times of crisis. This technical distinction is also a revealing one: Our city governments, quite literally, do not consider parks essential.

Still, some neighborhoods have tree-lined streets and a good number of small parks, while others, like the South Bronx, don’t. “The inequities that you see are largely a result of the failure to plan,” Benepe said. “And a failure to plan is endemic in most cities.” Cities and suburbs grow at the behest of developers and real estate interests with little regard for the public spaces necessary to maintain a high quality of life. Over time, the homes near quality green space generally become more valuable (studies that evaluate park benefits adjust for these socioeconomic factors), which pushes lower income households to park-sparse areas, who then have to advocate for years or even decades to get quality green space in neighborhoods that have already been developed.

“The virus is highlighting a lot of cracks in society,” said Berman. “This is a crack.”

The South Bronx has one park that’s actually green: St. Mary’s Park. It’s about 26 acres with a lawn and ample tree cover. But with some 90,000 residents in the South Bronx, it can get quite crowded, especially now that everyone is seeking its expanses for some fresh air and exercise during the shelter-in-place order.

Until recently, South Bronxites would have had to get on the bus or subway to find another open green space. That changed in the fall of 2015, when the city opened the Randall’s Island Connector, the first path between the South Bronx and the 600-plus acre island park in the East River that sits between Manhattan, the Bronx, and Queens. It’s still at least a 25 minute walk from the more populous areas of the South Bronx through the very industrial areas diesel trucks frequent. But it makes Randall’s Island accessible enough for Johnson and his son.

“Randalls Island has been a real gem for getting him out,” Johnson said, “being able to kick a soccer ball, be away from people. There’s enough space.” They go about once a week when the weather is nice.

The Randall’s Island Connector didn’t get built by accident. It took years of advocacy work from Johnson and other local groups to convert the lower half of an Amtrak bridge for pedestrian and bicycle use. This fits with the history of how parks get built and amenities improved, not just in New York, but in the country as a whole.

Historically, large urban parks have been created where land was available, Benepe of the Trust for Public Land said. “And it all depends on: was there a civic leader who fought for the creation of parks?” In the Bronx, that person was journalist John Mullaly, who played a critical role in setting aside almost a quarter of the Bronx’s land for park space—including the area that eventually became St. Mary’s Park. But most of that space is in the northern half of the Bronx, which had not yet been developed. “That pattern,” Benepe said, “is really replicated in cities across the country.”

Today, cities looking to expand park access face a problem. There simply isn’t much land left undeveloped to turn into parks. Other than displacing people and businesses, which can be costly and politically unpopular, cities have to get creative, as New York did with the High Line in Chelsea by turning an abandoned elevated railroad track into a linear park, or repurposing abandoned waterfronts or warehouses.

“Cities weren’t designed for people’s well-being in mind,” Berman observed. “And this is something that we’re trying to get more on the radar.” Maybe, he said, it’s time to start asking if we really need that avenue or highway to run through a given neighborhood.

According to Benepe, there’s really only one way for that conversation to start today: local activism. And those activists will need to fight harder than ever, because, in many cases, they won’t just be fighting for empty land to be put towards a purpose everyone likes—they will be demanding it be taken away from someone else.

For his part, Johnson said the new sense of urgency around his activism isn’t necessarily welcome. “You don’t want your advocacy to get more light because of negative consequences,” he said, referring to the toll coronavirus has taken on his community. But it reminds him what he is fighting for. “We definitely don’t want them to have lost their lives without any situation changing in the future.”

VICE is committed to ongoing coverage of the global climate crisis. Read all of our Earth Day 2020 coverage here, and more of our climate change coverage here .

The Fight for Greener Neighborhoods Is a Matter of Life or Death syndicated from https://triviaqaweb.wordpress.com/feed/