PORTRAIT OF THE ARTIST AS POLKA-DOTTER

By RON STODGHILL II

The neighbors weren't thrilled when Tyree Guyton began hanging hundreds of old shoes in the big tree on Heidelberg Street on Detroit's east side back in 1986. A few complained to him but were calmed by Guyton's passionate explanation that the dangling shoes celebrated their black ancestors lynched in the South. Residents probably should have asked Guyton whether Soles of the Most High completed his artistic vision for their block. It didn't. Eleven years later, thousands of used shoes are piled by the sidewalk and hanging in the trees--along with rusty car hoods and tires strewn across a vacant lot and rows and rows of discarded vacuum cleaners, stuffed animals and broken dolls. Heidelberg Street is also festooned in polka dots. "I'm going to polka-dot this whole city," proclaims Guyton, 41, who says the dots commemorate his late grandfather's love of jelly beans.

Even as artists from across the globe marvel at the Heidelberg Project, Guyton is becoming persona non grata on the street where he grew up. Tourist traffic is heavy. The bulk garbage collectors are so confused by what is art and what isn't on Heidelberg Street that they have stopped picking up there. And there's concern that the heaps of stuff are becoming a breeding ground for rodents. "Really, the problem has exploded this year because Tyree has put his polka dots everywhere," says Angela Brown Wilson, executive assistant to Detroit's Mayor Dennis Archer.

Perhaps the biggest gripe among residents is that Guyton's ghetto gallery will push economic development away from Heidelberg Street. To be sure, the community has been an urban wasteland, a place where crime, drugs and vagrancy flourish in buildings still charred and hollowed from the 1967 riots. But a fledgling enterprise zone has sparked hope that new housing, businesses and jobs will flow into the area. Thus Guyton's suggestion that the street be turned into an artists' colony has generated little enthusiasm. "It is an embarrassing eyesore," fumes neighbor Anthony Dicus. "Nobody will want to invest here."

Mayor Archer's position on the issue is no clearer than a Guyton painting. His first instinct is to force Guyton to remove his artwork from the city-owned property. In 1991 the mayor's predecessor, Coleman Young, bulldozed a couple of abandoned houses that Guyton had decorated. But Archer's handlers have counseled otherwise, pointing out that the Heidelberg Project has become the area's most popular destination point and that its creator is a headstrong folk hero who would only benefit from a confrontation with city hall. As a result, Archer has gone so far as to quietly dig up an old pair of sneakers to donate to a Guyton exhibit in St. Paul., Minn.

Of course, election-year politics leave Archer little room for more sole searching. The flap isn't likely to cost him many votes, but the longer it plays out, the more embarrassing it is for the city. In one meeting, Archer urged Guyton to drum up more community support so that the administration could back the project more forcefully. "You need to take off your artist cap and put on your business hat," he said.

None of that has led to detente with the neighbors, though. A few weeks ago, police responded to an anonymous call saying there was gunfire ringing out from the Dotty-Wotty House, where Guyton's mother Betty lives. The call turned out to be a false alarm. Still, the mayor's office is feeling the pressure to act. "The mayor has made it clear that he wants the issue resolved," says Marilyn Wheaton, the city's director of cultural affairs. "We've got it on fast track."

Guyton seems to have painted himself into a corner. Proposals to give residents a financial stake in the project haven't taken hold, nor have discussions to buy them out of their homes outright. And it is certainly not helping Guyton's cause that he no longer lives on Heidelberg Street. In the interests of finances, comfort and work space, Guyton says, he has taken up residence in the home of his project's executive director, Jenenne Whitfield, who lives in a middle-class neighborhood on the city's west side. Whitfield insists there are Guyton polka dots in her home. The mayor's office isn't impressed. "There are people on Heidelberg who have lived there for 30, 40 or 50 years," sniffs Wilson. "The fact that Tyree's not living there--I think that's a problem." If the artist has moved out, will his art soon follow?