Giving Back 2017

Oh this year. Time to buckle down and do what I can to give back. Like last year, I'll be donating all of the profits from the map sales to local nonprofits from Thanksgiving through Giving Tuesday. That means that your purchase of a map will help to support all of the following organizations: Philadelphia Wooden Boat Factory, Marian Anderson Historical Society, SEAMAAC, Red Paw Relief and Students Run Philly Style (more about the nonprofits below). Last year we raised Read more

#whyilovephillyarts Launches

It's official, the first #whyilovephillyarts, featuring Sean Martorana, is now live! Check out the prints below and purchase one of the 30 limited edition prints online. This is the first collaboration that aims to build a body of Philly-specific art across a variety of mediums for people to purchase with 100% of the profits going to the artist (along with a full commissions and licensing Read more

Sean Martorana x Philly Love Notes

The best part about running Philly Love Notes and making maps is the opportunity to connect with, spotlight, and help build the Philly community (see Giving Back This Year -- news about 2017 soon, #whyilovephilly Twitter campaign, #whyilovephilly parties, Philly Love Letters). So... I'm very excited to announce the new project, #whyilovephillyarts, a series of collaborations aimed at showcasing the amazingly talented artists and makers we have here in the city.  The Concept - Commission a piece of art from a variety of painters, illustrators, graphic designers, Read more

Rittenhouse Square

Love Note #142: How to teach yourself the city by taking the Route 12 bus (Joel Mathis)

Editors Note: Joel gave me this love note a few months ago. I finally got around to taking the bus ride, starting first at 16th and Walnut, travelling over the Gray’s Ferry Bridge to 50th and Woodland, back east to 3rd and Pine and traversing the city once more to my starting point. The bus ride was eye-opening. This blog conveniently ignores the poverty, crime, and inequalities of this city and chooses, very consciously, to focus on the positive side of the city. I figure that there is enough press covering the other side. But, on days like this, I am forced to acknowledge the struggles of the city. Having not read the note in a little while, I was afraid that the piece would be too rosy, however, I feel like Joel managed to capture what I saw in words.

Joel Mathis
Favorite Spot: The No. 12 Bus
Neighborhood: Fitler Square
Address: 3rd/Pine to 50th/Woodlands

I am: A Kansas-bred freelance writer who came to Philadelphia to live in the “big city” and found this place doesn’t feel too different from my Midwestern small towns.
Years in Philly: 4.5
Current home: 23rd and Pine streets.

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Posted on by Emma Fried-Cassorla in Rittenhouse Square, Southwest Philly 3 Comments

Love Note #134: You would never guess the animals that live here in the city. Christian Hunold photographs them at the John Heinz National Wildlife Refuge

Christian Hunold
Favorite Spot: John Heinz National Wildlife Refuge at Tinicum
Neighborhood: Eastwick & Bartram Village
Address: 8601 Lindbergh Boulevard, Philadelphia, PA 19153

I am: I’m a full-time college professor and part-time wildlife photographer.
Years in Philly: 15
Current Home: Fairmount

Red Fox

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Posted on by Emma Fried-Cassorla in Southwest Philly 2 Comments

Love Note #97: "There is no rush, only serenity" (Seth DiLorenzo’s Love Note to Bartram’s Gardens)

Seth DiLorenzo
Favorite Spot: Bartram’s Garden
Neighborhood: Southwest Philly
Address: 53rd and Lindbergh

I am: An avid wanderer…of mind and bicycle
Years in Philly: 8
Current Home: West Philly


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Posted on by Emma Fried-Cassorla in Southwest Philly Leave a comment

Love Note #48: This goes way beyond a love note. Andrew Thompson on Farm 51

Andrew Thompson
Favorite Spot: Farm 51
Neighborhood: SW Philly
Address: 51st and Chester

I am: someone who wants nothing more than to play with a chimpanzee and go to space. Therefore, I go to law school.
Years in Philly: 8
Current Home: Northern Liberties

My love note:

This land is not dirty; it is the anti-clean. The two lots that comprise Farm 51 have, in character, taken over the house itself, and the inside and outside worlds become nearly indistinguishable. Animals roam between the two with relative flexibility, the dogs pushing the backdoor in and out, the cats slinking through the open slit of the side window. The stench of compost differs only in degree. The half-finished chicken coop is only slightly more inchoate than the living room. Spend enough time here and you give up ambitions for primness, only hoping that your coworkers won’t notice the few hundred strands of dog hair that pepper your every outfit and that the frangrance you apply is more potent than that emitted by two dozen chickens and their feces that has attached itself to the clothes that once looked so slick when you saw them on the rack.

The couple who runs the farm, Neal Santos and Andrew Olsen, are not neo-hippies, not subversive, not Michael Pollan acolytes who sow their kale to the tune of the Food System Blues. (In fact, they’re more likely to eat a Purdue chicken breast than organic/local fare). In fact, I don’t know why they do it. I have, with increasing frequency, taken on the role of understudy at the farm and assumed the duty of making sure things don’t die when the owners go away. And although I have never asked either one why they’ve chosen to animate the vacant land next to their groundfloor apartment (and now also officially adjacent to the home they just purchased on the other side of the farm), I do know that in it they don’t see social change, or maudlin sentiment for the plight of southwest Philadelphia, or Walden-esque romance. The more time I spend here, the less attention I pay to the wonderful verdancy that drew me in and more to the ever growing pains in my ass that all the forms of life here produce, cursing every one. Damn the rabbits for escaping their hutch and eating my lettuce and being too nimble to get them back in. Damn the bugs for eating the lettuce before the rabbits. Damn the cat, one of however-the-hell-many here, for thanking the homeowners for their shelter by shedding her fur on the kitchen counter and begging for my affection despite its disgusting belly so full of worms that it sags. Damn the chicken for getting out again. Damn the composting vegetables for infecting half the landscape with the putrid odor of their decay. Damn the dog for its incontinence, and damn the other dog for its late-night neediness. I’m not being cheeky. This place pisses me off.

Such gripes, though, come naturally with cultivated land, which encapsulates the most fundamental themes of property and civilization. The tenet undergirding most of our philosophy on land use is that the best use of land is the use of land, that to turn fallow dirt into a source of edibility and other human products is to potentiate a space (forests and preserves notwithstanding). The Google street view of Farm 51 is still a chained-up lot so overgrown that weeds and trees shield the sun from the ground and create a literal darkness that give the sense that it goes on for miles. The weeds were uprooted, the trees pruned, and the land was slowly, industriously occupied by lettuce, tomatoes, chickens, those damn cats, a fire pit, coops, and people. There was no title handed over–half the land is owned by the city, the other half by a title-holder who could be apathetic just as well as dead. Pennsylvania’s adverse possession laws dictate that this land be used as it is for 21 years before the users actually gain title, a staggeringly long amount of time (many states require only 10 years). That there are two people ready to transform unused (and very likely forgotten) land into plots of production is a striking manifestation of a human impulse not for ownership, but for use.

And what uses they are. The farm is a minor museum of our primitive brilliance and the period when we were just beginning to understand our god-like ability to manipulate the Earth to our desires. No modern technology can overshadow the genius of animal husbandry or horticulture, no glass skyscraper negates the purposeful elegance of a chicken coop. (You put the chickens inside so they don’t get away–brilliant!) Here, we remember the evolutionary junction when we became different from the rest. But it is not so far into our timeline of development that we had found ways of creating a false sense of worth. A head of lettuce here is as valuable as the nutrition it provides, a chicken only for how many eggs it lays. Value is inherent, not shuffled and obscured and inflated through the trickery of our wonderfully large brains. Farm 51 does not sign futures contracts for its tomatoes–it simply grows tomatoes. It is an exercise in making sure that, without the dizzying structures we now depend on–the high-frequency stock trading that with a glitch can bring us to our knees, the panorama of screens occupying our every view, our increasingly precarious political system–we can still make life from dirt.

Posted on by Emma Fried-Cassorla in Southwest Philly 2 Comments

Love Note #33: Go see Neal Santos’ Farm 51 in SW Philly. It’s amazing.

Neal Santos
Favorite Spot: Farm 51
Neighborhood: SW Philly
Address: 51st and Chester

I am: Many things, but mostly a photographer for City Paper and one half the muscle and brain behind Farm 51, a small-scale farm and garden in Southwest Philadelphia.
Years in Philly: 8 years
Current Home: Farm 51 in SW Philly.

(Photos by Neal)

My love note: Philadelphians, to the best of my knowledge, are complex and simple at the same time. Philadelphia’s locations: its landmarks, historic sites, restaurants and bars, are merely just spaces. If just for one second, you sit, listen and observe the people of Philly in any of its neighborhoods, you can get served the perfect slice of life, Philly-style.

Posted on by Emma Fried-Cassorla in Southwest Philly 3 Comments