Urban outfit: Swoon's life-size paper cutouts dress up drab city walls. (photo:
Mark Schiller)
The Village Voice, May 7th, 2003
Psychogeographers Navigate New York City's Changing Landscape
Public Notice, May 7 - 13, 2003
by Bryan Zimmerman
If "war is God's way of teaching Americans geography" (as one clever
March 22 anti-war protester's sign read), then war is also God's way of teaching
New Yorkers about New York. A lot of artists, activists, and sidewalk critics—not
to mention alarmist aesthetes—argue that the city is changing in some
way since the new Iraq invasion and 9-11, yet it's always a challenge to quantify
how fear, the war on terrorism, and the hole in the downtown skyline are affecting
New York City on the street level. Some residents admit to being psychologically
affected by a daily commute through Operation Atlas's flourish of National Guardsmen,
checkpoints, and barricades, and by lingering signs of 9-11. Others either genuinely
or ignorantly pass through the city psyche intact. Fortunately, there's evidence
that suggests New Yorkers cherish their unique "culture of congestion"
more than ever, and that they'd rather endure the Orange Alert zone than be
relegated to the Yellow. Exhibit A: There hasn't been a mass exodus from New
York City.
As we try to relax and recreate in Orange Alertville or travel through these
checkpoints and barricades to the Yellow, a barely connected network of maverick
artists and unorthodox urban investigators are making fresh, if underground,
contributions to pedestrian life in New York City, and upping the ante on today's
fight for the soul of high-density metropolises. A timely festival and conference
called "Psy-Geo-Conflux" is coming to the Lower East Side this Thursday
(through Sunday, at and around ABC No Rio, 156 Rivington Street, 212-254-3697),
and it will likely spin New York's sense of place in more ways than one person
can digest in a weekend.
The event is centered around a seasoned yet growing field of creative recreation
and alt-geographic exploration called psychogeography. Trying to define this
obtuse field is an adventure itself, although a relatively straightforward definition
includes "the study of the effects of the geographic environment on the
emotions and behavior of individuals." One of the boldest characteristics
of psychogeography may be its ability to influence and bring together all kinds
of artists, social scientists, philosophers, urban provocateurs and spelunkers,
and even traditional geographers, in an entirely accessible venue—public
space. Appropriately, the organizers of "Psy-Geo-Conflux" are "letting
a thousand flowers bloom," in the words of Brooklyn Psychogeographical
Association founder, photographer, and WFMU DJ David Mandl.
To mention a handful of the many events: The artist and game enthusiast Sharilyn
Neidhart organizes an outdoor human chess match powered by cell phones. Margrethe
Lauber leads a tour and group photo shoot of "back spaces" of famous
buildings such as those at the UN and Lincoln Center. The Brooklyn-based collective
Toyshop fills the streets with "sound riots," a "detritus band,"
and a junk band. The Dutch creator of Socialfiction.org, Wilfried Hou Je Bek,
will generate computer codes from pedestrians. Photographer and author Colette
Meacher gives a lecture on discovering Immanuel Kant's theory of the sublime
on city blocks. Sound artist Sal Randolph organizes a weekend-long collaborative
field recording pool, transmitted in via cell phones and back out as streaming
MP3s on the Web. (For a complete listing of events and times, visit glowlab.com.)
The common thread through these events is that "they're all about the meaning
of living in a city," says festival organizer, photographer, and Glowlab
founder Christina Ray. Like many psychogeographers, Ray creates purposely aimless
walks and scavenger-hunt-type urban odysseys, often based on some kind of algorithm
or random element. (A sample algorithm could be: Take your first right, take
your second left, take your second right, repeat.) According to Ray, psychogeography
is a way for urbanites to melt down normal navigational routines, "find
our own path in the city," and "find out what patterns we generate."
And perhaps even subvert the war on terrorism's often divisive and fear-inducing
projections on the cityscape.
The Surveillance Camera Players differ from other surveillance awareness activists
such as the Institute for Applied Autonomy (appliedautonomy.com) in that they
not only count and archive the locations of surveillance cameras, they put on
plays for them. Regularly performed works include George Orwell's 1984 and Art
Toad's God's Eyes Here on Earth (a play written specifically for surveillance
cameras used to monitor churches). The group is giving a tour of the city's
surveillance cameras as part of "Psy-Geo-Conflux" on Sunday at 2 p.m.,
and though not able to give any figures about how many new cameras are on the
streets since 9-11, player Bob Brown says that post-9-11 buildings tend to be
stocked with them. "They have cameras installed on all four sides, so the
total for each building is 16—or even as many as 20—per building,"
says Brown, adding, "These cameras are relatively well integrated into
the facade and are clearly part of the original building design." It's
easy to discount the Players' dramatic work as another flaccid conceptual art
project until you're in the position of a pedestrian just walking by, whose
confusion elegantly lifts upon realizing that the "audience" is a
cryptic camera trained on a public space.
It's this same heightened attention to our surroundings that the Wooster Collective
tries to foster. As part of "Psy-Geo-Conflux," the team of street
art, sticker, stencil, poster, graffiti, and culture-jamming artists and archivists
are giving a rare tour of uncommissioned street art below Houston on Sunday
at 1 p.m. Key member Mark Schiller maintains an archive of (now over 1,500)
photos of various street artworks, many of which can be seen on their extensive
Web site, woostercollective.com, along with capsule interviews by dozens of
guerrilla creators working within the sphere of urban public space. A lot of
the work out there is small, subtle, and stealthy, which Schiller describes
as one of their main strengths. Notable examples include Swoon's incredibly
intricate paper cutouts of roughly life-sized people, jump-cut with city grids
and folky designs, which can be seen adhered to walls in DUMBO and other neighborhoods.
And also contrary to the in-your-face attitude of much street art are Vinnie
Ray's subway posters and banners on the BQE overpasses that have dreamy images
of landscapes and cartoons, each accompanied by simple verbs like searching,
listening, expanding, being, and loving.
According to Schiller, as pedestrians, just being in tune enough with our surroundings
to notice these subtle gems and "little moments" is an essential part
of not just finding street art but experiencing the pulsating city around us.
"Are people really noticing how many little stores are closing?" asks
Schiller. "It's the same kind of awareness that makes us notice small street
art. We can be numb to it or we can really tap into the fact that the country's
poor condition might be just as much of a threat [as restrictive security measures]."
Any spirited New Yorker enjoys getting thrown off his or her Habitrail to discover
some parallel world, whether it's a vagrant saying poetic things to a door or
an Orwellian drama played for a surveillance camera. In a city where our eyes
are rarely relaxed on any horizon line, and every politician and industry is
battling for our attention, we can use the clarity and mental vacations that
random psychogeographical walks and alternative public art offer. "It's
about becoming aware of what's around you," says Schiller. "It's about
being connected with the rest of the city."