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Indianapolis Star
5 days ago
- General
- Indianapolis Star
A 30-foot sculpture is planned for Broad Ripple. Some welcome it; others call it 'tall scary man'
Artist Jason Myers designed his new sculpture — slated to stand at a high-profile Broad Ripple intersection — to be a welcoming modern-day guardian that embodies the neighborhood's movement, transformation and artistic expression. But many residents have the opposite feeling about the 30-foot-tall figurative man that will light up at night. On social media and at a public meeting, they have said they find the work, which they have seen depicted in drawings, to be grotesque, unwelcoming and a potential distraction for drivers. The recent outcry has surprised the organizers who are bringing the sculpture, called "Gavin-Divergence," to the northwest corner of College Avenue and Westfield Boulevard. Plans have been in the works for 18 months, said Tag Birge, a real-estate developer and investor who co-founded the Birge Family Foundation, which is funding the art as part of a partnership that includes the Indy Art Center and Penrod Society. Business owners and community members at a February public meeting responded positively to the piece, he said. But as the Nextdoor posts have circulated, more residents have spoken out about the sculpture. About 20 attended a Broad Ripple Village Association Land Use and Development Committee meeting July 22 to voice their concerns. At this point, "Gavin-Divergence" is under construction and not a done deal, Birge told IndyStar. He said organizers are awaiting an upcoming Board of Zoning Appeals public meeting that will determine whether to grant a variance to adjust the sightlines for the sculpture at the intersection. In the mean time, the dispute about how the proposed sculpture will represent the community is ongoing. The Birge Family Foundation has largely focused on education and healthcare initiatives. Now, it's adding public art to its portfolio to help reinvigorate what Birge calls the city's woefully underfunded arts infrastructure. "When I grew up, Broad Ripple was the arts and cultural district, and now we have competition," Birge said. "Carmel is really pulling a lot of the arts and cultural energy that we've had in Broad Ripple for years. We have to reinvest in our arts and cultural districts. It can't be static. You can't just rely on what you had in 1980 and hope that things go well." Eventually, the foundation plans to join with more partners to raise at least $1 million to create five pieces of public art in the neighborhood by multiple artists, Birge said. He declined to say how much the foundation is paying for Myers's "Gavin-Divergence." The Birge Family Foundation commissioned the piece from Myers, which the Indy Art Center will own and maintain. Myers, whose main U.S. studio is in his hometown of Logansport, lived in the Circle City for about 15 years starting in 2001, residing in Broad Ripple and operating the Artbox gallery at the Stutz. While there, he met Birge, who grew up in and around Broad Ripple. The two have remained in touch. "I've put pieces in Cologne, Germany; and Amsterdam; and Miami; and Palm Beach; and Napa, California. You know, I'm probably more excited about this piece in Broad Ripple than any of those just because (of) its relationship to me and where I grew up and where I'm part of that community," Myers said. At Birge's request, the Broad Ripple Village Association listed several locations where public art would be a good fit, and the corner of College and Westfield was most impactful, Birge said. The association did not select the art but has tried to spread the word about it among its newsletter subscribers and membership, said executive director Jordan Dillon. "We tried to be a resource for a citizen or a charitable group who wanted to bring a piece of art into the community and to help kind of share with them best practices," Dillon said. "We provided a lot of different locations where we think public art could be great in the area, and there's no shortage of them in Broad Ripple. We tended to agree with them that this location was going to be the most impactful for our area." But many Broad Ripple residents are not sold on the sculpture. Resident Brett Rathmell posted on the social media app NextDoor recently, sparking a plethora of comments that were mostly complaints. He said he became aware of "Gavin-Divergence" in mid-July, when his neighbor received notice of a public hearing about the variance petition for the area. Rathmell said he likes the sculpture but thinks it would be better placed elsewhere, like the Indy Art Center. For the intersection in question, "(it) just feels like it'd be nice to enhance what they have there or just add something that evokes community, people, warmth, emotion, going out, entertainment, warm and fuzzy things — not a tall, scary man, singular, that evokes fear," he told IndyStar. A July 22 Broad Ripple Village Association Land Use and Development Committee meeting on the variance petition, and not the sculpture itself, drew about 20 people. Several came to comment about the sculpture or its impact. "That does not say 'Welcome to Broad Ripple,'" said Nancy Siebert, who's lived in the neighborhood for almost 50 years. Across his 40 years as a resident, Glenn Plaster said he's watched Broad Ripple evolve from a cultural gem to a mishmash of parking garages and high-rise buildings. In his mind, "Gavin-Divergence" doesn't speak to the village's history. "I don't know what this artwork is supposed to represent. I don't see how it represents anything," Plaster said. John Pantzer said he wasn't opposed to the sculpture itself but was worried about whether such a tall piece of art would distract drivers at a busy intersection where cars, pedestrians and cyclists converge. "For the people who do want to come see it: Where are they going to stand? Where are they going to congregate? Could it cause accidents?" Pantzer said. While committee chair Bo Boroski cited recent city data saying the intersection has not seen collisions and injuries, the committee moved to recommend approval of the variance petition and included a recommendation to remove the right turn on red for those traveling south on College to west on Westfield. So far, "Gavin-Divergence" will proceed as planned for the intersection, Birge said, but he's open to more discussion. "If the BRVA came to me and said, after the public meetings were done and working on this for 18 months, that they thought there was a more impactful location, I would be open to it," Birge said. "But I think this is probably the most impactful location to start bringing art to activate the area." Myers said people will connect better with the in-person sculpture than with the computer-aided drafting drawings, which were intended to engineer the piece. He said similar sculptures on his website at give a better idea of what it will look like. And, as a seasoned artist, he said he understands criticism. "Public art is supposed to generate conversation," Myers said. "Not everyone's going to connect with the piece right away. But people are reacting, whether it's curiosity, confusion or even criticism. That means people are engaging in their community, and that means people are taking some responsibility for the art in their environment." Public comment about the variance petition will be welcome during an upcoming hearing of Division 1 of the Board of Zoning Appeals at 1 p.m. Sept. 2 on the second floor of the City-County Building. This Indy newsletter has the best shows, art and eats
Yahoo
12-06-2025
- Politics
- Yahoo
Barabak: Trump could help feed hungry people. Instead he's throwing a vanity parade
On Saturday, on the streets of Washington, Donald Trump will throw himself a costly and ostentatious military parade, a gaudy display of waste and vainglory staged solely to inflate the president's dirigible-sized ego. The estimated price tag: As much as $45 million. That same day, the volunteers and staff of White Pony Express will do what they've done for nearly a dozen years, taking perfectly good food that would otherwise be tossed out and using it to feed hungry and needy people living in one of the most comfortable and affluent regions of California. Since its founding, White Pony has processed and passed along more than 26 million pounds of food — the equivalent of about 22 million meals — thanks to such Bay Area benefactors as Whole Foods, Starbucks and Trader Joe's. That's 13,000 tons of food that would have otherwise gone to landfills, rotting and emitting 31,000 tons of CO2 emissions into our overheated atmosphere. It's such a righteous thing, you can practically hear the angels sing. "Our mission is to connect abundance and need," said Eve Birge, White Pony's chief executive officer, who said the nonprofit's guiding principle is the notion "we are one human family and when one of us moves up, we all move up." Read more: Barabak: Putting the bully in bully pulpit, Trump escalates in L.A. rather than seeking calm That mission has become more difficult of late as the Trump administration takes a scythe to the nation's social safety net. White Pony receives most of its support from corporations, foundations, community organizations and individual donors. But a sizable chunk comes from the federal government; the nonprofit could lose up to a third of its $3-million annual budget due to cuts by the Trump administration. "We serve 130,000 people each year," Birge said. "That puts in jeopardy one-third of the people we're serving, because if I don't find another way to raise that money, then we'll have to scale back programs. I'll have to consider letting go staff." (White Pony has 17 employees and about 1,200 active volunteers.) "We're a seven-day-a-week operation, because people are hungry seven days a week," Birge said. "We've talked about having to pull back to five or six days." She had no comment on Trump's big, braggadocious celebration of self, a Soviet-style display of military hardware — tanks, horses, mules, parachute jumpers, thousands of marching troops — celebrating the Army's 250th anniversary and, oh yes, the president's 79th birthday. Marivel Mendoza wasn't so reticent. "All of the programs that are being gutted and we're using taxpayer dollars to pay for a parade?" she asked after a White Pony delivery truck pulled up with several pallets of fruit, veggies and other groceries. Mendoza's organization, which operates from a small office center in Brentwood, serves more than 500 migrant farmworkers and their families in the far eastern reaches of the Bay Area. "We're going to see people starving at some point," Mendoza said. "It's unethical and immoral. I don't know how [Trump] sleeps at night." Certainly not lightheaded, or with his empty belly growling from hunger. Those who work at White Pony speak of it with a spiritual reverence. Paula Keeler, 74, took a break from her recent shift inspecting produce to discuss the organization's beneficence. (Every bit of food that comes through the door is checked for quality and freshness before being trucked from White Pony's Concord warehouse and headquarters to one of more than 100 community nonprofits.) Keeler retired about a decade ago from a number-crunching job with a Bay Area school district. She's volunteered at White Pony for the last nine years, on Tuesdays and Wednesdays. "It's become my church, my gym and my therapist," she said, as pulsing rhythm and blues played from a portable speaker inside the large sorting room. "Tuesdays, I deliver to two senior homes. They're mostly little women and they can go to bed at night knowing their refrigerator is full tomorrow, and that's what touches my heart." Keeler hadn't heard about Trump's parade. "I don't watch the news because it makes me want to throw up," she said. Told of the spectacle and its cost, she responded with equanimity. "It's kind of like the Serenity Prayer," Keeler said. "What can you do and what can't you do? I try to stick with what I can do." It's not much in vogue these days to quote Joe Biden, but the former president used to say something worth recollecting. "Don't tell me what you value," he often stated. "Show me your budget, and I'll tell you what you value.' Trump's priorities — I, me, mine — are the same as they've ever been. But there's something particularly stomach-turning about squandering tens of millions of dollars on a vanity parade while slashing funds that could help feed those in need. Michael Bagby, 66, works part time at White Pony. He retired after a career piloting big rigs and started making deliveries and training White Pony drivers about three years ago. His passion is fishing — Bagby dreams of reeling in a deep-sea marlin — but no hobby can nourish his soul as much as helping others. He was aware of Trump's pretentious pageant and its heedless price tag. "Nothing I say is going to make a difference whether the parade goes on or not," Bagby said, settling into the cab of a 26-foot refrigerated box truck. "But it would be better to show an interest in the true needs of the country rather than a parade." Read more: Arellano: Trump wants L.A. to set itself on fire. Let's rebel smarter His route that day called for stops at a middle school and a church in working-class Antioch, then Mendoza's nonprofit in neighboring Brentwood. As Bagby pulled up to the church, the pastor and several volunteers were waiting outside. The modest white stucco building was fringed with dead grass. Traffic from nearby Highway 4 produced an insistent, thrumming soundtrack. "There are a lot of people in need. A lot," said Tania Hernandez, 45, who runs the church's food pantry. Eighty percent of the food it provides comes from White Pony, helping feed around 100 families a week. "If it wasn't for them," Hernandez said, "we wouldn't be able to do it." With help, Bagby dropped off several pallets. He raised the tailgate, battened down the latches and headed for the cab. A church member walked up and stuck out his hand. "God bless you," he said. Then it was off to the next stop. Get the L.A. Times Politics newsletter. Deeply reported insights into legislation, politics and policy from Sacramento, Washington and beyond, in your inbox twice per week. This story originally appeared in Los Angeles Times.
Los Angeles Times
12-06-2025
- Business
- Los Angeles Times
Trump could help feed hungry people. Instead he's throwing a vanity parade
CONCORD, Calif. — On Saturday, on the streets of Washington, Donald Trump will throw himself a costly and ostentatious military parade, a gaudy display of waste and vainglory staged solely to inflate the president's dirigible-sized ego. The estimated price tag: As much as $45 million. That same day, the volunteers and staff of White Pony Express will do what they've done for nearly a dozen years, taking perfectly good food that would otherwise be tossed out and using it to feed hungry and needy people living in one of the most comfortable and affluent regions of California. Since its founding, White Pony has processed and passed along more than 26 million pounds of food — the equivalent of about 22 million meals — thanks to such Bay Area benefactors as Whole Foods, Starbucks and Trader Joe's. That's 13,000 tons of food that would have otherwise gone to landfills, rotting and emitting 31,000 tons of CO2 emissions into our overheated atmosphere. It's such a righteous thing, you can practically hear the angels sing. 'Our mission is to connect abundance and need,' said Eve Birge, White Pony's chief executive officer, who said the nonprofit's guiding principle is the notion 'we are one human family and when one of us moves up, we all move up.' That mission has become more difficult of late as the Trump administration takes a scythe to the nation's social safety net. White Pony receives most of its support from corporations, foundations, community organizations and individual donors. But a sizable chunk comes from the federal government; the nonprofit could lose up to a third of its $3-million annual budget due to cuts by the Trump administration. 'We serve 130,000 people each year,' Birge said. 'That puts in jeopardy one-third of the people we're serving, because if I don't find another way to raise that money, then we'll have to scale back programs. I'll have to consider letting go staff.' (White Pony has 17 employees and about 1,200 active volunteers.) 'We're a seven-day-a-week operation, because people are hungry seven days a week,' Birge said. 'We've talked about having to pull back to five or six days.' She had no comment on Trump's big, braggadocious celebration of self, a Soviet-style display of military hardware — tanks, horses, mules, parachute jumpers, thousands of marching troops — celebrating the Army's 250th anniversary and, oh yes, the president's 79th birthday. Marivel Mendoza wasn't so reticent. 'All of the programs that are being gutted and we're using taxpayer dollars to pay for a parade?' she asked after a White Pony delivery truck pulled up with several pallets of fruit, veggies and other groceries. Mendoza's organization, which operates from a small office center in Brentwood, serves more than 500 migrant farmworkers and their families in the far eastern reaches of the Bay Area. 'We're going to see people starving at some point,' Mendoza said. 'It's unethical and immoral. I don't know how [Trump] sleeps at night.' Certainly not lightheaded, or with his empty belly growling from hunger. Those who work at White Pony speak of it with a spiritual reverence. Paula Keeler, 74, took a break from her recent shift inspecting produce to discuss the organization's beneficence. (Every bit of food that comes through the door is checked for quality and freshness before being trucked from White Pony's Concord warehouse and headquarters to one of more than 100 community nonprofits.) Keeler retired about a decade ago from a number-crunching job with a Bay Area school district. She's volunteered at White Pony for the last nine years, on Tuesdays and Wednesdays. 'It's become my church, my gym and my therapist,' she said, as pulsing rhythm and blues played from a portable speaker inside the large sorting room. 'Tuesdays, I deliver to two senior homes. They're mostly little women and they can go to bed at night knowing their refrigerator is full tomorrow, and that's what touches my heart.' Keeler hadn't heard about Trump's parade. 'I don't watch the news because it makes me want to throw up,' she said. Told of the spectacle and its cost, she responded with equanimity. 'It's kind of like the Serenity Prayer,' Keeler said. 'What can you do and what can't you do? I try to stick with what I can do.' It's not much in vogue these days to quote Joe Biden, but the former president used to say something worth recollecting. 'Don't tell me what you value,' he often stated. 'Show me your budget, and I'll tell you what you value.' Trump's priorities — I, me, mine — are the same as they've ever been. But there's something particularly stomach-turning about squandering tens of millions of dollars on a vanity parade while slashing funds that could help feed those in need. Michael Bagby, 66, works part time at White Pony. He retired after a career piloting big rigs and started making deliveries and training White Pony drivers about three years ago. His passion is fishing — Bagby dreams of reeling in a deep-sea marlin — but no hobby can nourish his soul as much as helping others. He was aware of Trump's pretentious pageant and its heedless price tag. 'Nothing I say is going to make a difference whether the parade goes on or not,' Bagby said, settling into the cab of a 26-foot refrigerated box truck. 'But it would be better to show an interest in the true needs of the country rather than a parade.' His route that day called for stops at a middle school and a church in working-class Antioch, then Mendoza's nonprofit in neighboring Brentwood. As Bagby pulled up to the church, the pastor and several volunteers were waiting outside. The modest white stucco building was fringed with dead grass. Traffic from nearby Highway 4 produced an insistent, thrumming soundtrack. 'There are a lot of people in need. A lot,' said Tania Hernandez, 45, who runs the church's food pantry. Eighty percent of the food it provides comes from White Pony, helping feed around 100 families a week. 'If it wasn't for them,' Hernandez said, 'we wouldn't be able to do it.' With help, Bagby dropped off several pallets. He raised the tailgate, battened down the latches and headed for the cab. A church member walked up and stuck out his hand. 'God bless you,' he said. Then it was off to the next stop.
CBS News
28-02-2025
- Business
- CBS News
Battle Creek business agrees to civil settlement in PPP loan dispute
A Battle Creek manufacturer has agreed to pay over $2.2 million in civil fines to resolve allegations involving the pandemic-era Paycheck Protection Program loan program. Andrew Birge, the acting U.S. attorney for the Western District of Michigan, made the announcement this week regarding the case of Rosler Metal Finishing USA LLC, also known as Rosler USA. The allegation involved falsely obtaining a second loan through the PPP program when the company was not eligible for those additional funds. The civil settlement includes the resolution of claims brought under the qui tam or whistleblower provisions of the False Claims Act against Rosler USA. No determination of liability was issued in the case. "The Paycheck Protection Program was intended only for those who met the eligibility criteria," Birge said in his prepared statement. The PPP was an emergency loan program created by the Coronavirus Aid, Relief and Economic Security (CARES) Act in March 2020 and expanded by the later American Rescue Plan Act (ARPA). The intent was to help eligible businesses cover payroll costs and other specified expenses amid the economic disruptions of the time. The Small Business Administration guaranteed PPP loans, which included a forgiveness clause under certain conditions. More specifically, the "second-draw" loan criteria was limited to a company and its affiliates with a total of no more than 300 employees. That's the circumstances under which Rosler USA faced scrutiny, as it applied for a second-draw PPP loan in January 2021 and received the $1,265.035, according to the press release. The SBA later forgave the loan. But the United States later claimed Rosler USA was ineligible for the second loan because the company and its affiliates had over 300 employees; furthermore, that it falsely certified in its PPP loan application that it had fewer than 300 employees and omitted that it had shared ownership with other businesses. "The settlement in this matter reflects SBA's commitment to identifying and pursuing those who perpetrated fraud on the Paycheck Protection Program. Such fraud unconscionably undermines critical pandemic relief, and SBA continues its enhanced efforts to uncover such misconduct and recover those damages," Wendell Davis, General Counsel at the U.S. Small Business Administration said in the press release.
