In lieu of actually finishing and submitting my senior thesis, I've opted to sink back into the blog that was initially going to be a temporary, finite project for another class. But with my grade firmly settled in place, I'm still drawn to the subject so bear with me, diligent and non-existant readership. Seeing as how my GPA no longer relies on my words, the spelling errors will probably triple and I can finally practive ryping with my euyes clsoed.
Anyway, the very notion of a "blogosphere" is something my pseudo-luddite sensibility had trouble grasping. On my mind a lot lately has been this sort of whimpering death of public life as it finds itself supplanted by the WWW, social networking sites, Craigslist casual encounters, MySpace and a whole slew of other jargon-y terms that I am at once totally adept with and again incredibly naive towards. But then I started considering it in terms of creating publics that are instantly accessible based on a set of criteria that is much more individual and self-centric. This idea of selective exposure is really fascinating and will likely result in a huge upheaval in the way advertising and information are dispersed. But in the same vein is public art and what exactly is considered public. With the increased popularity of sites like Flickr, Vimeo, YouTube, Etsy and other venues to exchange media, the Internet is fast becoming the go-to for art and design. I like that, actually. The potential for independence in consumption is substantial. I can only wonder what sort of futuristic world experiences e-graffiti.
Monday, May 21, 2007
Monday, May 7, 2007
Communicating peace, politics
As brought up in my last post, public art is often criticized for a general lack of beneficial community-building. At least with street art, one is able to be totally autonomous in what is created and the space starts to straddle that boundary between public and private. It may occupy the public space but it is given a level of private sovereignty, a personal island or bubble within the urban context.
But not all public art projects should be written off. Of course not. Just because something is commisioned by a structured program or institution doesn't mean that it will be a sterile mismanagement of funds. "Winds of Change," a 1977 mural project in Berkeley, California, is a widescale piece dealing with working class struggles and strong anti-capitalist, anti-technology themes. Corporate interests lead to a serious dehumanization of the working class and it is shown so vividly in this mural. Another substantial community art project is Judy Baca's Los Angeles-based "The Great Wall" project. Baca brought together hundreds and hundreds of local youth to create this largescale mural, rich with history and experience. The project itself taught the kids participating a number of real-world lessons like time management, teamwork and organization, as well as the massive sense of empowerment and ownership that accompanied the creation of The Great Wall.
Judy Baca, posing in front of a portion of the project. Courtesy of Stanford University.
Baca has used public art and murals as a means for communicating peace and providing the space for social awareness and activism. To use this realm for good intentions is a difficult and taxing process but Baca has consistently been able to accomplish it through her projects. I admire her strength and resolve in a climate of opposition from various angles, either condemning her work for usurping the public sphere or simply not being "street" enough. Perhaps that debate over authenticity and street cred is just one more frame around which this persistent issue can be constructed.
But not all public art projects should be written off. Of course not. Just because something is commisioned by a structured program or institution doesn't mean that it will be a sterile mismanagement of funds. "Winds of Change," a 1977 mural project in Berkeley, California, is a widescale piece dealing with working class struggles and strong anti-capitalist, anti-technology themes. Corporate interests lead to a serious dehumanization of the working class and it is shown so vividly in this mural. Another substantial community art project is Judy Baca's Los Angeles-based "The Great Wall" project. Baca brought together hundreds and hundreds of local youth to create this largescale mural, rich with history and experience. The project itself taught the kids participating a number of real-world lessons like time management, teamwork and organization, as well as the massive sense of empowerment and ownership that accompanied the creation of The Great Wall.
Judy Baca, posing in front of a portion of the project. Courtesy of Stanford University.
Baca has used public art and murals as a means for communicating peace and providing the space for social awareness and activism. To use this realm for good intentions is a difficult and taxing process but Baca has consistently been able to accomplish it through her projects. I admire her strength and resolve in a climate of opposition from various angles, either condemning her work for usurping the public sphere or simply not being "street" enough. Perhaps that debate over authenticity and street cred is just one more frame around which this persistent issue can be constructed.
To Backtrack: Street Art versus Public Art
Much like the on-going debate between graffiti advocates and the opposition, another dichotomy exists in the field of public space use. This probably should have been clarified early but bear with me here! This manifests in the form of street art versus public art. In short, street art is defined by independent, individual architects of visual imagery and art in the public sphere, while public art is generally thought of as anything commisioned by a government, corporation, neighborhood or whatever with the purpose of providing urban betterment. The two are quite different and introduce a series of debates over how public space should be governed.
Interpreting and extracting meaning from the stream of messages continuously sent to urban communities requires an understanding of the specific differences and contexts that define the terms used throughout this study. In order to better understand the impact and impression created by various forms of idea exchange, the aforementioned foundational definitions are required.
Notably, street art is present in many forms. Historically, graffiti is a general, overlapping example of street art – the act of an urban (or increasingly suburban) artist using their public landscape as a canvas. Graffiti is a common term that is not limited to only the stereotypical image of some nighttime rogue armed with cans of spray paint. Stenciling, wheatpasting and stickering have evolved into independent media of their own, garnering some of the praise, condemnation and analysis that the graffiti writers of the ‘70s and ‘80s experienced, as mentioned in an earlier post. But street art is not limited to a two-dimensional graphic representation like a sticker or stencil. It doesn’t necessarily blend into the cityscape like a fine fountain or monument. Like public art, street art can be statuesque, performance-based, installed on the urban landscape or three-dimensional and confrontational. It can be intentionally temporary or meant to last.
Shown is the notorious Gates of Central Park from earlier this decade. Jean Claude and Christo, European-born artists known for their emphasis on natural and public space use for their projects, created a city-sanctioned piece of art that was at one point unconventional and difficult to understand but at another point overwhelming in it's dominance over the public realm. [Courtesy of Gothamist]
Denoting the difference between public art and street art is complicated by the inherent similarities in their title words. Streets are notably free spaces, known by urban visitors and citizens for their communal use for public purposes. The city sidewalk can often feel about as public as it gets. But the reality is that ultimately, someone is vying for control of that space and it often boils back down to the individual pitted against the institution. That is why public space is such an interesting point for cultural warfare - it is all at once everyone's and noone's.
Here is where I can actively engage the perspectives of public art's opponents. Public art is arguably a less desired form of visual imagery in the urban space, mostly because it uses up resources that could be allocated towards bettering school systems and government programs, combating homelessness, fixing transportation networks or any of the myriad concerns that come up in urban planning. Architects of public art often encounter a great deal of criticism for appearing like a fluffy waste of resources in troubled communities that would be better off with a new library than a new monument or mural. The creation of urban identity and community space need not rely on visual context in the forms that public art can provide. Aesthetic development of the public realm need be back-burner to the pressing realities of urban life, such as poverty, housing depressions, gentrification and more. When Washington spends a ton of money erecting a new monument while simultaneously trying to whitewash graffiti, it seems like a grandiose misuse of funds and people in dire need of structured assistance see it too.
Interpreting and extracting meaning from the stream of messages continuously sent to urban communities requires an understanding of the specific differences and contexts that define the terms used throughout this study. In order to better understand the impact and impression created by various forms of idea exchange, the aforementioned foundational definitions are required.
Notably, street art is present in many forms. Historically, graffiti is a general, overlapping example of street art – the act of an urban (or increasingly suburban) artist using their public landscape as a canvas. Graffiti is a common term that is not limited to only the stereotypical image of some nighttime rogue armed with cans of spray paint. Stenciling, wheatpasting and stickering have evolved into independent media of their own, garnering some of the praise, condemnation and analysis that the graffiti writers of the ‘70s and ‘80s experienced, as mentioned in an earlier post. But street art is not limited to a two-dimensional graphic representation like a sticker or stencil. It doesn’t necessarily blend into the cityscape like a fine fountain or monument. Like public art, street art can be statuesque, performance-based, installed on the urban landscape or three-dimensional and confrontational. It can be intentionally temporary or meant to last.
Shown is the notorious Gates of Central Park from earlier this decade. Jean Claude and Christo, European-born artists known for their emphasis on natural and public space use for their projects, created a city-sanctioned piece of art that was at one point unconventional and difficult to understand but at another point overwhelming in it's dominance over the public realm. [Courtesy of Gothamist]
Denoting the difference between public art and street art is complicated by the inherent similarities in their title words. Streets are notably free spaces, known by urban visitors and citizens for their communal use for public purposes. The city sidewalk can often feel about as public as it gets. But the reality is that ultimately, someone is vying for control of that space and it often boils back down to the individual pitted against the institution. That is why public space is such an interesting point for cultural warfare - it is all at once everyone's and noone's.
Here is where I can actively engage the perspectives of public art's opponents. Public art is arguably a less desired form of visual imagery in the urban space, mostly because it uses up resources that could be allocated towards bettering school systems and government programs, combating homelessness, fixing transportation networks or any of the myriad concerns that come up in urban planning. Architects of public art often encounter a great deal of criticism for appearing like a fluffy waste of resources in troubled communities that would be better off with a new library than a new monument or mural. The creation of urban identity and community space need not rely on visual context in the forms that public art can provide. Aesthetic development of the public realm need be back-burner to the pressing realities of urban life, such as poverty, housing depressions, gentrification and more. When Washington spends a ton of money erecting a new monument while simultaneously trying to whitewash graffiti, it seems like a grandiose misuse of funds and people in dire need of structured assistance see it too.
Mapping the Visually Literate Landscape
Visual literacy is the gateway to being able to read the signs and symbols of urban life. The city is ultimately an open book able to be read through the various pages it exists upon and access is granted based on levels of visual literacy.
It's just like, well, any other kind of literacy. It indicates who belongs and who does not. One marker for an increasingly developed nation is the literacy rate - the more people who can read, the more people who have access to the resources and materials designated for success. Employment, education and political access are all dependent on being able to understand and interpret the environment that surrounds us. Indeed, the dichotomy of who is in and who is out delineates a sense of identity and belonging in the urban context. Being able to read the city with a sense of accuracy and identification is vital to being a contributing member.
This idea of literacy and access manifests itself along several different lines throughout the culture wars. Especially in debates like the one over evolution and creationism, the mere act of understanding the other side and being able to 'read' it correctly is crucial to forming a coherent and effective discourse. That necessity also surfaces in the debate over global warming as well. Belonging and identity are founded in visual literacy and the battles for dominance with both will continue to be fought along a similar trajectory.
I am really fascinated by the ability to read signs and symbols in the context of in-groups, as if the symbols are able to read the viewer much in the same way. Advertisements, a huge source of text in the scope of visual literacy, are so often targeted towards specific groups and demographics. Messages are tailored to exactly what those groups want to see and hear and what has been proven to be appealing. The same thing goes for public art - a huge amount of research goes into framing the visual display so that it can be accurately 'read' by the right, presumably literate, audience. Often advertisements, murals, tags or other public visual displays are rejected by the diverse audiences that they serve for simply coming of as confusing. They are ultimately misread.
Diet Coke recently put out a campaign that has surfaced on billboards and busses around the urban center. On a plain black background, simple text says only, "Good Morning." Below is an image of a Diet Coke can wrapped in a paper coffee sleeve. Those with a certain literacy in urban symbols can interpret it as Diet Coke as the new cup of morning coffee, given a high caffeine content. This clearly targets current coffee drinkers who will relate to the imagery and perhaps find it cute or quirky. These are potentially people who take their coffee to go, the upwardly mobile without a lot of time in the morning. That group is in stark contrast to the rest of the urban dwellers exposed to the ad whose visual literacy rate is different when exposed to images like that. Indeed, the ability to read an advertisement like Diet Coke's indicates who has access to this idea or information and who does not.
Sunday, May 6, 2007
The Subconscious Art of Graffiti Removal
As brought up in my last post, the line between graffiti/street art's aesthetic purpose and invasive properties is often quite blurry. Taking the stance of the opposition can come about in several forms. One way that I've found quite interesting is making the choice to advocate the removal of graffiti as a means of art production rather than fighting it as a suppression of public expression. This is one method of supporting the enforcement of "quality of life" legislation while still holding on to my belief that public forms of art are vital to the community at large.
Portland, Oregon-based artist Matt McCormick recently created the project "The Subconscious Art of Graffiti Removal." His manifesto is as follows:
With this project, I am able to reconcile my thoughts on anti-graffiti movements that appear to be a huge to-do over something that ultimately I believe will hardly be resolved in a diplomatic manner via laws and authoritarian enforcement. Those in favor of graffiti removal from public space are not inherently anti-art, much like pro-choice individuals are not inherently anti-life and vice versa. McCormick's project comes off as a substantial attempt at compromise and even finds meaning, beauty and neutrality for a debate that is otherwise hotly contested in public space by two parties competing for cultural dominance.
By re-interpreting a given situation, the whitewashing of graffiti in the urban environment, McCormick is able to retain some of the power that many taggers and writers feel is lost when their work is dismantled by an authoritarian machine. In many ways, I think that is often the root of the inability to compromise in many of these culture wars - a fear of losing power. Western society is fairly preoccupied with socio-cultural power and who has it, so the over demonstration of one's power over another is often mismanaged by the other side. I'm sure that Ed Koch and Rudy Giuliani would be pleased to hear that street artists were seeing their attempts at removing the graffiti as a form of art within itself.
At the bottom of everything, it all comes down to the freedom to express oneself and compete for cultural hegemony. This is a point that I have no choice but to return to when I critically examine public space use in terms of the culture wars. Interestingly though, I've found through my research that this topic really isn't always as easy to boil down to traditionalists versus progressives as some of the others - a good thing and a challenging thing when it comes to thinking in these terms. It's not a progressive property to be in favor of street art - my stance is potentially more radical than anything else. It's not traditionalist in nature to support anti-graffiti legislation, except for perhaps by virtue of government regulation of property and space. The moral argument resides in the realm of censorship and rights to expression.
To take the side of the opposition, I would argue that, beyond the overt complaints on property destruction and breaking the law, graffiti and street art executes the very form of censorship that its advocates condemn when a subway car is whitewashed or a tagger is exiled. By usurping the public space for a specific message or image, it permanently alters the context of that space and renders it impossible for any one else to put anything there without that context beneath it. The name of my blog, "Where Did The Art Go?" is for a spray-painted question that emerged when a long-standing mural near 18th Street in Adams Morgan had been white-washed. A blank canvas now stands where a context-heavy image once resided and its history could not be forgotten with a couple coats of paint. By altering the space like that, many anti-graffiti legislation proponents likely see it as a slippery slope that will ultimately have a negative end (refer back to the advertisements in my previous post.)
You can't really see it from this angle, but the aforementioned mural that bit the dust is along this strip.
And while we're on the subject of Adams Morgan, given the absurd skyrocketing that's going on with housing prices in the neighborhood, several people rejecting street art likely have property values in mind. In 2005, a 3 bedroom penthouse apartment went for over $2 million in the Adams Morgan 'hood. A clean building is better than a tagged building, or at least is worth more, so there's more to the public realm than just having a space where lots of people live and work. As the source of one's livelihood, it should be up to them to determine its appearance, right? One can hardly blame someone for fighting for their property, right?
Portland, Oregon-based artist Matt McCormick recently created the project "The Subconscious Art of Graffiti Removal." His manifesto is as follows:
"Graffiti removal: the act of removing tags and graffiti by painting over them.
Subconscious art: a product of artistic merit that was created without conscious artistic intentions.
It is no coincidence that funding for “anti-graffiti” campaigns often outweighs funding for the arts. Graffiti removal has subverted the common obstacles blocking creative expression and become one of the more intriguing and important art movements of our time. Emerging from the human psyche and showing characteristics of abstract expressionism, minimalism and Russian constructivism, graffiti removal has secured its place in the history of modern art while being created by artists who are unconscious of their artistic achievements."
[From the artist's web site, http://www.rodeofilmco.com]With this project, I am able to reconcile my thoughts on anti-graffiti movements that appear to be a huge to-do over something that ultimately I believe will hardly be resolved in a diplomatic manner via laws and authoritarian enforcement. Those in favor of graffiti removal from public space are not inherently anti-art, much like pro-choice individuals are not inherently anti-life and vice versa. McCormick's project comes off as a substantial attempt at compromise and even finds meaning, beauty and neutrality for a debate that is otherwise hotly contested in public space by two parties competing for cultural dominance.
By re-interpreting a given situation, the whitewashing of graffiti in the urban environment, McCormick is able to retain some of the power that many taggers and writers feel is lost when their work is dismantled by an authoritarian machine. In many ways, I think that is often the root of the inability to compromise in many of these culture wars - a fear of losing power. Western society is fairly preoccupied with socio-cultural power and who has it, so the over demonstration of one's power over another is often mismanaged by the other side. I'm sure that Ed Koch and Rudy Giuliani would be pleased to hear that street artists were seeing their attempts at removing the graffiti as a form of art within itself.
At the bottom of everything, it all comes down to the freedom to express oneself and compete for cultural hegemony. This is a point that I have no choice but to return to when I critically examine public space use in terms of the culture wars. Interestingly though, I've found through my research that this topic really isn't always as easy to boil down to traditionalists versus progressives as some of the others - a good thing and a challenging thing when it comes to thinking in these terms. It's not a progressive property to be in favor of street art - my stance is potentially more radical than anything else. It's not traditionalist in nature to support anti-graffiti legislation, except for perhaps by virtue of government regulation of property and space. The moral argument resides in the realm of censorship and rights to expression.
To take the side of the opposition, I would argue that, beyond the overt complaints on property destruction and breaking the law, graffiti and street art executes the very form of censorship that its advocates condemn when a subway car is whitewashed or a tagger is exiled. By usurping the public space for a specific message or image, it permanently alters the context of that space and renders it impossible for any one else to put anything there without that context beneath it. The name of my blog, "Where Did The Art Go?" is for a spray-painted question that emerged when a long-standing mural near 18th Street in Adams Morgan had been white-washed. A blank canvas now stands where a context-heavy image once resided and its history could not be forgotten with a couple coats of paint. By altering the space like that, many anti-graffiti legislation proponents likely see it as a slippery slope that will ultimately have a negative end (refer back to the advertisements in my previous post.)
You can't really see it from this angle, but the aforementioned mural that bit the dust is along this strip.
And while we're on the subject of Adams Morgan, given the absurd skyrocketing that's going on with housing prices in the neighborhood, several people rejecting street art likely have property values in mind. In 2005, a 3 bedroom penthouse apartment went for over $2 million in the Adams Morgan 'hood. A clean building is better than a tagged building, or at least is worth more, so there's more to the public realm than just having a space where lots of people live and work. As the source of one's livelihood, it should be up to them to determine its appearance, right? One can hardly blame someone for fighting for their property, right?
Challenging My Own View
Somehow, the issue of public space use and community-based public/street art has taken on a place in my periphery that feels substantially more pressing than the age-old culture wars that we've been surveying in class. While abortion, the right to die, religious fundamentalism, evolution, all that, sort of strike me as futile challenges, public space use is one that I definitely hold on to and really struggle with when I'm pressed to understand the oppositon.
The 'opposition' manifests in a bit more subtle ways than traditionalist attacks on same-sex marriage or progressive assertions on evolution. It comes in the form of anti-graffiti legislation like that enacted in the 1990s in the state of New York, Giuliani's "Anti Graffiti Task Force," for instance. Ed Koch's anti-graffiti stance was all-out, complete with huge public relations campaigns vilifying taggers and writers for any and all violations. A veritable white-washing of subway cars took place, again cracking down on the notion of "quality of life crimes."
Anti-graffiti ad, courtesy of the Wooster Collective
When I look at an ad like that, I start to see a little bit of what makes people so angry about street art and graffiti. I think that the line between art and offense is often blurred (even by the stuff that makes it into galleries, for sure - Thomas Kinkade, anyone?) and that which is beautiful to me is extremely offensive to others. It's exactly like the debate over Robert Mapplethorpe. When I look at a building with one side covered in a mural covered in another mural covered in about a million tags, I see a beautiful expression of a multitude of opinions and messages about just as many subjects. Someone else sees a big mess, an eyesore, a crime against their quality of life. In the documentary "Style Wars," MTA morning commuters are shown in utter despair over having to face the day on a subway car coated in spray paint.
This is reasonable and pretty much the only platform where I can understand the upset over street art and graffiti. That doesn't mean that I believe that heavy legislation banning it is necessary, as I see graffiti as a thing of human nature that will not be stopped by a law saying it should be (indeed, that has historically pushed it further). Like the line between art and offense, the line between public and private is often blurred in urban space. Is the side of an apartment building the property of the owner or the property of the community, when it comes to its visual presence? What about a garage door? An SUV? A dumpster or a stop sign? The beauty of street art is that it happens on the streets, anywhere it can. But what about when it happens on something that technically belongs to someone else? I've met several angry folks who are bothered with the tagging on their mailboxes, front doors, hallways and more. And they are justified, without a doubt.
These ads speak to the part of me that doesn't need much challenging to get behind the opposition's view. They show a natural progression of tagging as if it were really going to wind up in my kitchen or living room, as if public space had run out and the next step was private. This approach taps into at just the right belief in personal property thats truly an undercurrent in public society. My belief in public space being a soapbox for all in reality only goes so far. I would probably have a hard time if someone tagged my car or house. While I was living in Berlin, there was a tacit no-holds-barred policy on graffiti and the interior of most apartment buildings in East Berlin were a constant barrage of spray paint. As a guest in these buildings and even the city itself, it was something I could marvel at. But I only can imagine how long that would last, before I would start to feel like my personal space had been treaded upon. Before it started to feel like too much.
The 'opposition' manifests in a bit more subtle ways than traditionalist attacks on same-sex marriage or progressive assertions on evolution. It comes in the form of anti-graffiti legislation like that enacted in the 1990s in the state of New York, Giuliani's "Anti Graffiti Task Force," for instance. Ed Koch's anti-graffiti stance was all-out, complete with huge public relations campaigns vilifying taggers and writers for any and all violations. A veritable white-washing of subway cars took place, again cracking down on the notion of "quality of life crimes."
Anti-graffiti ad, courtesy of the Wooster Collective
When I look at an ad like that, I start to see a little bit of what makes people so angry about street art and graffiti. I think that the line between art and offense is often blurred (even by the stuff that makes it into galleries, for sure - Thomas Kinkade, anyone?) and that which is beautiful to me is extremely offensive to others. It's exactly like the debate over Robert Mapplethorpe. When I look at a building with one side covered in a mural covered in another mural covered in about a million tags, I see a beautiful expression of a multitude of opinions and messages about just as many subjects. Someone else sees a big mess, an eyesore, a crime against their quality of life. In the documentary "Style Wars," MTA morning commuters are shown in utter despair over having to face the day on a subway car coated in spray paint.
This is reasonable and pretty much the only platform where I can understand the upset over street art and graffiti. That doesn't mean that I believe that heavy legislation banning it is necessary, as I see graffiti as a thing of human nature that will not be stopped by a law saying it should be (indeed, that has historically pushed it further). Like the line between art and offense, the line between public and private is often blurred in urban space. Is the side of an apartment building the property of the owner or the property of the community, when it comes to its visual presence? What about a garage door? An SUV? A dumpster or a stop sign? The beauty of street art is that it happens on the streets, anywhere it can. But what about when it happens on something that technically belongs to someone else? I've met several angry folks who are bothered with the tagging on their mailboxes, front doors, hallways and more. And they are justified, without a doubt.
These ads speak to the part of me that doesn't need much challenging to get behind the opposition's view. They show a natural progression of tagging as if it were really going to wind up in my kitchen or living room, as if public space had run out and the next step was private. This approach taps into at just the right belief in personal property thats truly an undercurrent in public society. My belief in public space being a soapbox for all in reality only goes so far. I would probably have a hard time if someone tagged my car or house. While I was living in Berlin, there was a tacit no-holds-barred policy on graffiti and the interior of most apartment buildings in East Berlin were a constant barrage of spray paint. As a guest in these buildings and even the city itself, it was something I could marvel at. But I only can imagine how long that would last, before I would start to feel like my personal space had been treaded upon. Before it started to feel like too much.
Cultural Hegemony and Art
My senior thesis has managed to take on many, many forms - ever changing until this very moment (yes, it's been terrifying.) In the midst of it, I uncovered a really interesting debate over public art, specifically performance art, and the issues of community it brings up.
The regional focus I've chosen is Northwest D.C., namely for my personal connection to it that has developed over such a short span of time. I spent a while living in Mount Pleasant and currently reside in Adams Morgan (these are my post-Tenleytown days, mind you), and the neighborhoods have unfolded themselves to me way beyond the Friday/Saturday night bar crowds. There are strong, strong communities who have lived here and seen the streets change over the past several decades. Out of the migratory trends that have come up recently in Mount Pleasant specifically, a really interesting piece of performance art called "Chaos Standing" was made. Gabriella Gahlia Modan describes it in her book, "Turf Wars," in terms of creating civic discourse on belonging and identity.
Image from the notorious Borf symbology, lifted from an address on Mount Pleasant St. Date unknown.
"Chaos Standing" fascinates me because it is a piece of performance art where characters who are essentially stereotypes of neighborhood figures are pitted against one another. There are the old timers who have been on the streets since before it was 'cool,' the transplants who come to D.C. in search of the perfect internship and live in the kinds of urban communities that attract people in pursuit of the latest housing fad, purveyours of violence, neighborhood leaders and everything in between. The themes it deals with are rooted in fear, as a female 'transplant' describes her hesitations about walking down Mount Pleasant street, receiving catcalls from bystanding men and generally feeling hyperaware of her gender while living in the space. The "Chaos" project juxtaposes suburban and urban ideologies, creating a dichotomy of private and public that often constructs a form of de facto segregation. Suburbanites fetishize the urban sphere for it's "dangerous" qualities and patronize the space in a sort of "slumming" trend. This is explored in "Chaos" in the form of narratives from both perspectives.
I think this aptly fits into the context of the culture wars. It all boils down into the ever-evolving debate over who belongs and who doesn't, and both sides don't see much fault in their own logic. That which is wrong to the neighborhood 'natives' about transplant communities (fears, anxieties, Starbucks) is what feels safe and appropriate to suburban dwellers about their urban counterparts, and vice versa. This mirrors the debates taking place to this day on same-sex marriage, global warming, etc.
The regional focus I've chosen is Northwest D.C., namely for my personal connection to it that has developed over such a short span of time. I spent a while living in Mount Pleasant and currently reside in Adams Morgan (these are my post-Tenleytown days, mind you), and the neighborhoods have unfolded themselves to me way beyond the Friday/Saturday night bar crowds. There are strong, strong communities who have lived here and seen the streets change over the past several decades. Out of the migratory trends that have come up recently in Mount Pleasant specifically, a really interesting piece of performance art called "Chaos Standing" was made. Gabriella Gahlia Modan describes it in her book, "Turf Wars," in terms of creating civic discourse on belonging and identity.
Image from the notorious Borf symbology, lifted from an address on Mount Pleasant St. Date unknown.
"Chaos Standing" fascinates me because it is a piece of performance art where characters who are essentially stereotypes of neighborhood figures are pitted against one another. There are the old timers who have been on the streets since before it was 'cool,' the transplants who come to D.C. in search of the perfect internship and live in the kinds of urban communities that attract people in pursuit of the latest housing fad, purveyours of violence, neighborhood leaders and everything in between. The themes it deals with are rooted in fear, as a female 'transplant' describes her hesitations about walking down Mount Pleasant street, receiving catcalls from bystanding men and generally feeling hyperaware of her gender while living in the space. The "Chaos" project juxtaposes suburban and urban ideologies, creating a dichotomy of private and public that often constructs a form of de facto segregation. Suburbanites fetishize the urban sphere for it's "dangerous" qualities and patronize the space in a sort of "slumming" trend. This is explored in "Chaos" in the form of narratives from both perspectives.
I think this aptly fits into the context of the culture wars. It all boils down into the ever-evolving debate over who belongs and who doesn't, and both sides don't see much fault in their own logic. That which is wrong to the neighborhood 'natives' about transplant communities (fears, anxieties, Starbucks) is what feels safe and appropriate to suburban dwellers about their urban counterparts, and vice versa. This mirrors the debates taking place to this day on same-sex marriage, global warming, etc.
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