The Tenderloin National Forest, located in an alley on Ellis Street near Leavenworth,
has transformed a once drug and crime-infested hideaway into a sustainable green/art space.
Photos by Luke Thomas
By Adam Wight
May 11, 2009
For those who missed Saturday’s official “re-opening” of the Tenderloin National Forest in an alleyway near Ellis and Leavenworth in San Francisco:
Just around the corner from the intersection of three liquor stores and two major streets, the neon glow of the massive Hotel Senator hovers over wood smoke and the most unlikely bird sounds, pouring out from between the buildings. This alley has seen life and death in all its misery, only to find its reincarnation as the art-child of a thousand hands.
Sarah Lewison and her SF State class, aided by neighbors, gardeners, painters-by-night, and masons have landed something from another planet: or from the earth itself, which has lain patiently for decades awaiting this radical rupture in the grayness.
The first thought on seeing a thirty-foot tree at home between these monstrous buildings is, Holy Shit!, that thirty-foot tree must have fallen here from outer space! But not in an ordinary ship. If space shuttle Atlantis is the phallis of Amerika, probing its military-industrial might into the void, then this alley is the female principle.
Four muses hold our thoughts up to the rim of this stone well, murals reach the tops of the apartment buildings. Warmth and nature rise sleepily from abused, dirty corners to take a deep breath, to take the edge off the nights of broken glass.
This isn’t just another venue for art showings and the permissive public drunkenness of the well-heeled, nor does it exist for their pox of bored, hostile journalists who can only think to point out the artists’ whiteness in their own heart of darkness. This is a fresh confluence, another chance to remake the world by pulling on the edges of its fraying old guard, by talking heart with the hesitant natives of Ellis Street who wait outside the gates to see what will happen. There are babies. Dogs drink from the green metal ponds. The music flows outwards.
The Hunger Site