There are plenty of local bridges to inhabit in our Milwaukee neighborhoods, but the Overpass Light Brigade is interested in traveling further afield to locations throughout our beloved state of Wisconsin as we try our best to convince, remind, cajole, coerce and persuade automotive passersby to vote our reptilian governor out of office.
While we are wary of overstating the persuasive powers of our LED propaganda, we are committed to new sites, new roads, new bridges, and most importantly, new communities of people, so we have been exploring some hitherto unvisited bridges with our recently created "1% WALKER" signs. We hit Racine last week, are going to an anti-corruption candlelight vigil in Elkhorn in two days, and will team up with a group of eager activists in Appleton this next Friday.
But when we want to go to Madison, we know who to call.
Our Madison Kossack friends have never let us down. With just a few days notice, Giles Goat Boy scoped out the field logistics for one of the most beautiful bridges we have yet occupied, a pedestrian suspension bridge spanning University Avenue, a very busy thoroughfare that bisects the campus district. At this point of the OLB project, we show up and just trust that things will work out, that the necessary "Holders of the Lights" will be there, and that the experience will be positive and meaningful. Sometimes things get crazy, but last night things merely got beautiful.
Perhaps I shouldn't say "merely" beautiful, as moments of transcendence are difficult to describe, and perhaps too awkwardly interior to even confess. But the most amazing people showed up in our designated parking lot: Kossacks, Solidarity Singers, a stranger from Milwaukee who connected via Facebook - people just kept showing up, wanting and willing to take part in Light-Brite Activism.
The sun was setting as we were beginning our two hour occupation, and huge winter clouds were limned in rosy light, offset by the steely grey of a February sky. I placed my tripod and camera in a good spot for photos, hands cold from handling the necessary metal. The bridge glowed in crepuscular night, suspended in spider geometry. Our signs served political purpose, held each by each, cars passing underneath knocking out democrabeeps that echoed through our certain canyon.
While I was taking pictures and marveling at the light, the phone in my pocket buzzed. It was Giles, who had just left to get home for some family time. "Hey," he said, "I just turned my radio on in the car, and the DJ was saying "The Overpass Light Brigade is in town on University Avenue! They've got their signs on the bridge! Give them a beep if you are passing by!"" Were all those extra democrabeeps from passing drivers due to the directive from radical radio, The Mic at 92.1? I can only guess, but I liked the notion that our bridge meditation was being mediated in real time.
About fifty photographs later, I was over in the trees trying to frame the view through gnarly limbs. Badscience, keeping an eye out for us, came over and said, "Ugh, it looks like we might have security here…" referring to a woman dressed in a uniform who was purposefully striding our way. I thought to myself, "Certainly we are doing nothing wrong!"
The woman came up, and I walked over to meet her, a bit suspicious about the impending encounter. "Hey," she said, "You're the ones with the cool signs!" She ended up to be an off-duty nature preserve worker who saw us from the road, was excited to meet us, drove out of her way to come talk and hang out. If I've met a nicer person, I can't remember when. The whole night was like that: we just kept collecting people - activists, new friends, old friends, random strangers. By dinner time with pizza, beer, and a view of the lake from the picture windows of an Italian restaurant, we were surrounded with about 20 activists - writers, videographers, folks who had been at the mining hearing all day, warriors of the struggle. Great people to hang with.
Sometimes it is like that. Intense beauty in the light of a darkening day. A sense of solidarity, camaraderie and purpose. A celebration of close friends, new friends, near strangers and strangers coming together for a purpose both specific and vague. Specificity matters in any political struggle, but sometimes we are blessed with the vague spaces where the light is able to enter, and sometimes those spaces reveal themselves in unexpected places.