Maybe I idealize it all out of proportion, but Detroit feels different during Dally. For a hot second we're tight, not spread out. Not divided but loving and inclusive. Queer and open and fly as hell, not "straight-acting" and blue collar-dowdy. It's like the neighborhood puts on a mask, but it's a mask that shows the truth, because it's all real; we're all here. We're just distributed, typically -- kept apart by highways and sprawl and racism and fearful urban planning, I guess. For one full day in September, though, you can shake off the weight of the cars and the stadiums and the empty lots and live a different Detroit dream: small, freaky, human, and pretty damn splendiferous. (The fact that it's managed to go on without corporate sponsorship for 40 years is some kind of miracle manifested by an incredible volunteer corps.)
Back in 2009 and 2010, I brought my camera to Dally and had a lot of fun shooting what I saw. I decided to do the same this year and I'm really glad I did. There was a special energy about the 40th Dally. The vibes seemed extra loving and the freak flags seemed to be flying extra high. Maybe we need it more now, in these godawful Trumpy times. Resist, resist.
My favorite shots are below. I hope the love comes through.
