Crimes of Creative Passion in Flint, Michigan

Connor Coyne: Guilty of writing and living in Flint

Designer, photographer and man about town Shane Gramling has cooked up another intriguing and compelling project in Flint. It's called Facing Flint and it takes the Vehicle City's reputation for crime and lawlessness and uses it to reveal the creativity flourishing in the town that G.M. forgot:

"This is Flint, Michigan — where serial entrepreneurs lurk around historic storefronts, and you can hear shots of dangerously good espresso being fired off in the streets, a city where students help pioneer next-generation vehicle energy sources and every artist carries a concealed brush. Watch your back world, we're coming for you."

The project's just getting started, but the rogue's gallery already includes mug shots of writer Connor Coyne; Jan Worth-Nelson, guilty of "committing wordslaughter and literary crimes of passion as a poet, novelist, and essayist for longer than you’ve been alive; and Ted Nelson, a "flinty-eyed miscreant from the hedonistic hellhole of Hollywood." 

Flint Photos: Melting Mailbox

Photo by designer Shane Gramling of a recently torched house on Corunna Road. See more of Shane's photos at Flint Photo Journal.

Flint Photos: Bristol Road

Cigarettes and oxygen outside Donna's Donuts on Bristol Road. (Click to enlarge.)

This shot is courtesy of Flint resident Shane Gramling, a photographer and graphic designer who posts other compelling images of the Vehicle City at Flint Photo Journal. (Click to enlarge.) Here's Shane's story from his website:

I was raised in a single parent home near Franklin and Leith in Flint, Michigan. We didn't have much; mom made sure we never missed a meal or went without proper needs, and she dished out plenty of love.

I am thankful for my fathers effort, for coming around 4-5 times a year. Over the years I've let go of the bitterness. I truly believe that he gave it all he could, in light of his alcohol addiction.

I have a thousand memories of my mother and I out at Zimmerman Beach, basking in the sun. I have a thousand more memories of riding bikes, and toying with Legos, GI Joe's, and playing hysterical late-night games of Monopoly with my best friend who lived just three houses down.

Then there's that time when someone tried to pry open our front door at 6am while we were home. And that other time when some random kid punched me in the gut, interrupting my water rocket session in the field across from my house.

Living in Flint has taught me that cities do not have agendas. Cities are not trying to jack my bike a gunpoint. Cities are not trying to kick in my back door.

I've learned that these "bitter occurrences" are merely human, and they are evident everywhere humans are found.