Detroit × New Orleans

A Field Guide to Two Cities That Know Something About Each Other

By L. Kasimu Harris

September 10, 2026

"Nero's Vino, Smooth like the Quiet Storm" (2024–25). Courtney "Nesby Phipps" Nero. Made in New Orleans, while referencing Detroit. It's now on view with the Library Street Collective. Photo: L. Kasimu Harris

In This Guide

The Occasion

The guide exists to create a living exhibition.

Nero's Vino, Smooth like the Quiet Storm, was made in New Orleans, and inspired by Detroit. It's hanging now in the Motor City, at The Belt, as part of Vanishing Black Bars & Lounges — five works from the series, on view through Library Street Collective's Public Matter program, through summer 2027. It was curated by Allison Glenn, a Detroit native who has lived and worked in New Orleans, a place she continues to love. That's the whole premise of this guide, really: what does it mean for one city's memory to be witnessed inside another's?

The occasion for publishing this now is the Saints playing the Lions on September 13, 2026 — the Saints' own Detroit travel guide even points people toward the exhibition. But this isn't that guide, and it isn't about the game. It's mine, and it's about something the football schedule just happens to have made visible: two cities that have been talking to each other for longer than either of us has been alive, in a language built out of bars, barbershops, music, and the particular discipline of holding on to a place after the place has tried to disappear.

This is a living exhibition — not a finished one.

Two Cities

Detroit and New Orleans don't get compared much.

Clearly the French, in the 18th century, loved both cities for their endless potential, spurred by their proximity to water. They became port cities and manufacturing hubs that would have to contend with massive population loss, economic hardship, and systemic disinvestment — while remaining unambiguously Black. Yet both cities never wavered on their iconic, global cultural identities.

Wrong region, wrong sound, wrong weather. But put the right people from each city in a room and the recognition is almost immediate — an underdog posture, a refusal to let a downturn become the whole story, a culture that got exported everywhere while the city that made it kept absorbing the disinvestment.

Both are cities where the vanishing is the subject, not the backdrop. Bars close. Blocks get cleared for a freeway or a development. A building stands empty for twenty years and everyone still calls it by the name of what used to be inside it. And in both cities, the people who remember what a place was are still walking distance from where it stood.

This guide is built around that shared instinct: to name what's gone, and to insist that naming it is not the same as accepting the loss.”

Chapter One

A Brief History of the Series

Vanishing Black Bars & Lounges — History

I've spent most of my life in Black-owned bars. I was 10 or 11 and inside the Winnah's Circle with my mother, Eartha Harris, while watching my sister, Rahsanna Ison, a vocalist, sit in with her father's band, Richwell Ison and the Kirk Ford Experience. I was 17 at Little People's Place for a jam session, during Jazz Fest 1995. I sat in with members of the Mingus Big Band, and fellow trumpeters Kermit Ruffins and Wynton Marsalis. And after graduate school, I spent many a Saints' game inside of Sidney's Saloon, a bar operated by Ruffins, during the magical 2009 season. (The saloon remains on St. Bernard Ave., but now it's named the Holly Roller and is white owned and operated.) But in 2009, you could have drinks, feast on Ruffins' soul food for free, and listen to the game — a DJ played during timeouts and commercial breaks. It was a vibe.

Little People's Place, New Orleans, Jazz Fest 1995 — Little People's Place, New Orleans. A jam session during Jazz Fest 1995, with Kermit Ruffins, Wynton Marsalis, and members of the Mingus Big Band. Photo: Michael P. Smith

Then, one day, I realized that a culture that was ubiquitous was dying, and it was not being acknowledged or documented. Vanishing Black Bars & Lounges started in New Orleans in January 2018, when an early version of the work appeared as a live performance for Pop-up Magazine — music, words, and images together. Later that year it was first exhibited, in Constructing the Break at the Contemporary Arts Center New Orleans, curated by Allison Glenn — the project's institutional beginning. Glenn later selected works from the series for State of the Art 2020 at Crystal Bridges Museum of Art, where three entered the museum's permanent collection. That same year, I had a solo exhibition of the series at the August Wilson African American Cultural Center, curated by Kilolo Luckett. In 2022, the work traveled to Hilliard Art Museum in Lafayette, Louisiana, curated by Benjamin Hickey. The series was also prominently featured in an immersive installation at Sweet Lorraine's Jazz Club, and at the Ogden Museum of Southern Art for Prospect.6: The Future Is Present, The Harbinger Is Home, curated by Miranda Lash and Ebony Patterson. Most recently, I was one of 15 artists selected, globally, for the 40th anniversary of the Museum of Modern Art's New Photography 2025: Lines of Belonging, and the museum acquired five photos from the series for their permanent collection.

Allison Glenn, in Zell's Corner, Detroit, 2025 — Allison Glenn, in 2025, celebrating in Zell's Corner in Detroit, after the opening of *The Sea and the Sky, and You and I*. Photo: L. Kasimu Harris

The Monday Faithfuls, Purple Rain Bar, New Orleans, 2019 — The Monday Faithfuls (Purple Rain Bar, New Orleans), 2019. Around 5 p.m., retired men and those nearing retirement sip slowly as the news hums in the background — a quiet pause before the same room turns over at night, when the jukebox and a DJ take it into something else entirely. Photo: L. Kasimu Harris

Come Tuesday, Marwan Pleasant at Sportsman's Corner, New Orleans, 2018 — Come Tuesday (Marwan Pleasant at Sportsman's Corner, New Orleans), 2018. Marwan Pleasant — fashion designer, Black Masking Indian, flag boy in the Golden Eagles — suited up at his grandfather Big Chief Monk Boudreaux's home on Mardi Gras morning 2018. His tribe wound through uptown New Orleans in heavy beaded suits, and stopped to rest at Sportsman's Corner, a venerable Black-owned bar, where the singing picked back up. Photo: L. Kasimu Harris

The series expanded into Detroit in 2025, photographing local gathering places including Jolly Old Timers, Cutter's, and Zell's Corner. Four of those Detroit works are now installed at The Belt through Library Street Collective's Public Matter program, on view through summer 2027.

Dawoud Bey, a groundbreaking photographer, artist, and MacArthur Fellow, has moved through this project several times: from its debut in 2018, to Lafayette, to Detroit, and to New York. And in that span, two images, eight years apart, of one photographer encountering the same body of work in two different cities — a visual bridge between where this project started and where it's standing now.

Dawoud Bey, viewing the work at CAC New Orleans, 2018 — Dawoud Bey at the 2018 Contemporary Arts Center New Orleans debut. Photo: L. Kasimu Harris

Dawoud Bey, inside Cutter's Bar & Grill, Detroit. Photo: L. Kasimu Harris

Video still from A Venerable Tradition, Footworkin' on a Tepid Existence — An excerpt from *A Venerable Tradition, Footworkin' on a Tepid Existence*, by L. Kasimu Harris, 2024. Watch on YouTube ↗

Chapter Two

The Work on View in Detroit

The Work

Looking at Five Photographs

Five works from Vanishing Black Bars & Lounges are on view at The Belt in Detroit. Four were made there; one carries over from New Orleans. Together, they're on view for the first time in the city that shaped most of them — and welcomed the one that didn't.

"Who You Know?" Jolly Old Timers, Detroit, 2025. Founded in 1958 as a private social club for Black men and a white ally — with the ally's assistance, they acquired their current building in 1968. Photo: L. Kasimu Harris

Blues for A.J., Live at Zell's Corner, Detroit, 2025. The title is an homage to Detroit's jazz legacy. Photo: L. Kasimu Harris

The East Side Phoenix, Zell's Corner, Detroit, 2025. In 2016, Juan Harden purchased a neighborhood liquor store — even though they were on nearly every corner. That same year, Harden's son Ronzell was shot and killed. He wanted his son's name to live on in a positive light, and to have a place for the community to gather, so he converted the store to a bar & grill and named it Zell's Corner. Harden's establishment has survived the pandemic and a fire. Photo: L. Kasimu Harris

An Eastern Market Institution, Cutter's Bar & Grill, Detroit, 2025. (On the corner is Detroit native and renowned artist Tiff Massey, with Katie Pfohl, curator at the Detroit Institute of Arts, former curator at the New Orleans Museum of Art.) Photo: L. Kasimu Harris

Chapter Three

The Voices

Six people, in different lines of work, with one thing in common: each is tied to both Detroit and New Orleans. All six were asked the same starting point — what does each city recognize in the other?

Rob Bronstein

Co-Founder and Chief Executive Officer, The Scion Group — President, Bronstein Family Foundation
Detroit native and 1992 graduate, Southfield-Lathrup High School

Their Take

Being from Detroit (lived there from birth thru age 19, 1974–1993) and with most of my family still living there, my perspective is based on growing up right after the nadir of the city: the riots in 1968, the decline in the 70's and 80's and just starting to regain its footing in the 90's. From this time period, Detroit very much had, and has, an "underdog" feel. Even more, having an economy that for 100+ years was based on basically one industry, and rode the booms and busts with no cushion or diversification, Detroit is a place that, while optimistic and hardworking, understandably has a paranoia and fatalism as in "good times aren't going to last forever, they never do." So be urgent, be in a hurry. I say this because, even though I haven't lived there in over 30 years, this is very much embedded in me.

Rob's Detroit — Go

Too much cool and historic architecture to list in one place — dozens of locations. Start with:

On Kronk Gym: Rob has a photo of Emanuel Steward — Kronk's founder and head trainer, who trained Thomas Hearns, one of Detroit's biggest celebrities in the 1980s — with his Rolls Royce. The car is now stored in Chicago alongside Rob's own car collection.

Emanuel Steward and his Rolls Royce, undated. Photo courtesy of Rob Bronstein

Rob's Listen

"Lose Yourself" — Eminem

Be urgent, be in a hurry.”

Nadia Pichon Grooms

Storyteller — Cars & Culture
Born and raised in Detroit — maternal roots and 10+ years in New Orleans, now based in New York

Their Take

When I reflect on both New Orleans and Detroit, cities that are deeply connected with my own life, through bloodline and birth, I think of rapture. New Orleans, the cradle of Black culture even still to this day, and Detroit the manifestation of the diaspora in all its glory, both hold a force — joy, history, passion, connectedness that vibrates and pulsates within their communities. Two beautiful, unique places where people literally dance in the streets whether it's doing the homegrown "Tamia" line dance, or joining a euphoric Super Sunday second line, "footwork" is not only recognized but respected. And what's so powerful — inspiring even — these aren't easy cities. There's hardship, toil, their respective challenges, yet New Orleans and Detroit forged their struggles, churned their ancestral energy, and created culture, sounds, cuisines, style, language, movement — gifting the world jazz, techno and so much more.

As Queen Anita sang, "Caught Up in the Rapture," only in New Orleans and Detroit is rapture not simply felt, but something one can truly capture and channel.

And when it moves you, or even through you, you may have no choice but to dance. So, here's to getting up and groovin' from Detroit's jittin', booty shakin', and 1000 hustles to New Orleans' twerkin, beenie weenie, and struttin', this "xennial" sonic love letter celebrates exactly how rapturous Black joy moves in two cities unlike any in the world.

Nadia's Detroit — Peaceful Nadia's Detroit — Favorite Hang Out Nadia's Detroit — Eats Nadia's New Orleans — Peaceful Nadia's New Orleans — Favorite Hang Out Nadia's New Orleans — Eats Nadia's Playlist

Her own "xennial" playlist, built for the guide:

Only in New Orleans and Detroit is rapture not simply felt, but something one can truly capture and channel.”

Tunde Wey

Artist
Lagos native, Detroit resident, and previously of New Orleans

Born in Lagos, Nigeria; moved to Detroit at 16 in 1999 and stayed until 2015; moved to New Orleans in January 2015 and lived there until roughly 2024; relocated his primary base back to Detroit around mid-2024.

Their Take

I'm going to be honest, Brother Kas — I don't really miss New Orleans. I lived there for five years, but I don't miss it until I go back to visit, and then the feeling is imposing. Everywhere I walk there, I remember everything. Riding my bike through the French Quarter. Riding down Magazine from where I lived Uptown all the way to City Park, where I played soccer twice a week. The food — there was this small restaurant in the French Quarter that did sweetbreads, used to be my favorite. I forget the name now. I had so many good times in New Orleans. Maybe that's why I don't remember — it was so good I had to bury all that pleasure.

Same thing with Detroit. I don't miss that place until I'm back there, and it's like half my life. But it's also the most important part of my life — the choices I made in Detroit shaped everything I am, at least superficially. Professionally, intellectually, Detroit was huge in my development.

But these two places — Detroit and New Orleans, against Lagos, where I was born and also lived — they come together. They're special because they make abstract things real. People like me talk abstractly about blackness, but in Detroit, that's real. In New Orleans, that's real. People talk abstractly about food culture in New Orleans, and that's real too. In Detroit it's real in a different way — it's more about food pride. And anything associated with that pride is beautiful. I think that's what unifies both places. They make the abstract real, and they make the nostalgia contemporary. That's all I got.

The Ride

New Orleans is flat like Detroit — smooth streets for biking, but with unmanageable stretches of back roads, bumpy with potholes and loose tar. The streetcar rails will catch your bike if you're not careful, but if you're looking for spirits, ride along the Riverfront in New Orleans or the Riverwalk in Detroit. In both cases, stray away from the hubbub — toward the Bywater, and east of Belle Isle. City Park brings to mind Belle Isle, but without the water, yet with all the widest trees, in girth. The Lafitte Greenway needs more tree canopy for the wicked heat, and the same charge can be lobbed at the Dequindre Cut — both are guilty of a smooth ride and a solemn stroll. Just do it on a chill summer night.

They fly kites at Belle Isle. I swear I've seen kites fly over Bayou St. John — or was it Uptown, in Audubon Park.

Detroit has no medians, and New Orleans has the neutral ground to keep some cars dry when it floods. In Detroit, the canals run over, basements protest, and fill up. They're both water cities — and your boy can't swim, but he can lap up the waves.

Tunde's Playlist

"Thick One" — 42 Dugg feat. Skilla Baby · "Back That Azz Up" — Juvenile feat. Mannie Fresh & Lil Wayne · "First Day Out" — Tee Grizzley · "Ass-N-Titties" — DJ Assault · "Express Yourself" — Diplo feat. Nicky da B · "St. James Infirmary" — Louis Armstrong · "Try Me" — DeJ Loaf

They make the abstract real, and they make the nostalgia contemporary.”

Dr. Victor M. Gardner

Senior Staff Psychologist, Henry Ford Behavioral Health, Henry Ford Health System
Detroit native
Psy.D., LP, ACT

Their Take

I grew up in Detroit and was born on the week of the 1967 uprising, so for me, Detroit has never been simply a city — it has been family, community, culture, and identity. I have maintained my faith in and a love for Detroit long before the turnaround was visible because I saw the people behind the headlines: generations of Black doctors, educators, lawyers, entrepreneurs, artists, ministers, civic leaders, and trailblazers who built businesses, institutions, and communities despite discrimination, disinvestment, crime, population loss, and struggling schools. Detroit's Black legacy is not a footnote to the city's story; it is central to its identity — a city that became one of America's most consequential majority-Black cities and produced figures such as Coleman Young, The Honorable Judge Damon Keith, Congressman John Conyers Jr., Horace Sheffield, Berry Gordy, Dennis Archer, and countless others who expanded the boundaries of what was possible in politics, business, law, medicine, education, and culture. A city that changed America: from the automobile industry to Motown, jazz, gospel, soul, funk, R&B, techno, and hip-hop, Detroit repeatedly transformed adversity into innovation and gave the world sounds, ideas, and movements that continue to shape American culture. Detroit's difficult years were a chapter in its story — not the definition of its destiny — because the cultural heartbeat, entrepreneurial spirit, and resilience of its people never disappeared.

Victor's Go — Historic, Jazz & Black Nightlife Victor's Eat Victor's Entertainment Venues Victor's Major Arts & Cultural Institutions Victor's Neighborhoods Victor's Listen

Aretha Franklin – "Rock Steady" · Marvin Gaye – "What's Going On" · Al Green – "Love and Happiness" · Anita Baker – "Mystery" · Kem – "Share My Life" · Stevie Wonder – "Superstition" · The Temptations – "Papa Was a Rollin' Stone" · Stevie Wonder – "Living Just Enough for the City" · The Spinners – "Could It Be I'm Falling in Love" · Rick James – "Dance Wit' Me" · George Clinton & Parliament – "One Nation Under a Groove" · Inner City – "Good Life" · The Clark Sisters – "You Brought the Sunshine (Into My Life)" · The Winans – "Ain't No Need to Worry" · Marcus Belgrave – "Odoms Cave" · Donald Byrd – "Cristo Redentor" · Kenny Burrell – "Midnight Blue" · Earl Klugh & George Benson – "Dreamin'"

Detroit's difficult years were a chapter in its story — not the definition of its destiny.”

Mike Fox

Professional Athletic Trainer
Detroit native

Theme

Detroit & New Orleans: where culture is created, not consumed.

Their Take

Detroit and NOLA have a lot in common, especially with their current plight of gentrification, where the city, its residents, and its history are slowly being erased. The neighborhoods — such as Black Bottom — that have been erased due to freeways or urban redevelopment are similar to the demolition of historic landmarks in both cities.

New Orleans needs to use its waterfront a lot more for development. Detroit has just started to really do this, and it has changed the landscape — people from not just Detroit but Canada, suburbanites, and visitors all use it together and appreciate it. Detroit could learn to embrace and support local acts, businesses, and ventures the way New Orleans does. Yes, New Orleans locals like to keep many hidden gems, but they patronize them, making sure their doors stay open.

Mike's Go Mike's Eat

Detroit & New Orleans: where culture is created, not consumed.”

Jabari Greer

Writer and member of the New Orleans Saints Hall of Fame
Former resident of New Orleans, and a consummate fan of Detroit music

What New Orleans Teaches

What I learned from New Orleans, and what I believe the world can learn from New Orleans, is the celebration of life that's immersed in the culture there. Every day is a celebration — no matter where you go, no matter what day it is, you can find someone celebrating. There's this feeling in New Orleans that life is to be appreciated, carried lightly, celebrated. I haven't found that in any other city I've ever traveled to, and living there for so long changed something in me — made me a little lighter, more observant to the beauty and joy in things, more willing to let go and be flexible.

What Detroit Teaches

One thing I think Detroit can teach the world is something about loyalty — it's baked into the culture. Whether it's men and women who worked at the Ford plant or the GM plant for 30, 40, 50 years, people steeped in the civil rights movement, the community, the clothes, everything — it's all rooted in this idea of loyalty: to oneself, to one's family, to one's community. No matter where you go in the world, you're going to meet somebody from Detroit, and they're going to let you know they're from Detroit.

The Barbershop

I remember going to Detroit one time — I was driving through from Buffalo on my way home, I don't know why I stopped, but I remember stopping at a barbershop on the north side of town. It felt like stepping into history — into the '60s, the '50s, into a time when Detroit was booming and people had this incredible amount of pride for the city. My generation often remembers how Detroit was in the '90s and early 2000s, when there was a lot of struggle and deterioration for the city. But the people who lived there remember what it was like in the '80s, '70s, '60s, when Detroit was on the forefront of American growth and Black growth. And a lot of that, in our generation, starts in the barbershop.

Jabari's Playlist

His own playlist, built for the guide:

No matter where you go in the world, you're going to meet somebody from Detroit — and they're going to let you know they're from Detroit.”

This Is Only the Beginning

This isn't a finish line. It's a living exhibition, built to keep growing.

More voices, more cities — this page will continue to expand, celebrating each day the doors open, drinks are poured, and community continues to find their third spaces of respite.

This is a perpetual promotion of culture, and a testament to the oftentimes unrecognized genius of Blackness.

— L. Kasimu Harris, with unwavering gratitude to everyone who contributed a voice, a photograph, or a place worth naming.