Sunday, March 8, 2009

final thoughts on the edge


There are all these traces left in the spaces around us. Crammed into little crevices between what is there and what used to be there are the pieces that we remember. They are fluid and manage to blend around whatever new thing is constructed. And maybe that new thing blends with it and becomes another layer of that memory. The memories are malleable enough that depending on which angle we look at them, they can mean or be different things. What once was painful can later be full of strength. Parts are removed and adapt to what we need at the time.

I'm a walking storehouse of memories and the potential for new ones. The thoughts explode out of me and everything I see is covered with a thin layer of myself. The areas around me are the past, present and future regardless of the physical shape they take. It's all just transparent and nothing is really a barrier so long as I don't allow it to be that way.

Saturday, March 7, 2009

Perimeter Walk podcast

Podcast utilizing images, links and sounds from my Perimeter Walk in Phoenix on March 1, 2009

Friday, March 6, 2009

their idea



The boundaries and spaces that exist in the urban environment are their idea—it's an idea they want you to have. It would make things much easier if you would just abide by it and stay within the lines.

One of the things I have a terrible amount of trouble with while walking in the city is the demand that's put on me to walk a certain trajectory and stay within certain boundaries. For some people, these boundaries are a given, expected course of action. For others, they are loose and their loose treatment of those boundaries usually get them into trouble (even if that trouble is just annoyance). I have to watch myself when I start to get bothered by someone's behavior in a free environment where I don't need to be concerned at all with what they're doing. I'm impressing my sense of order on what they're doing but they are living by an entirely different sense of order.

There's a sidewalk I used to take more often that went from my bus stop to my office. At one point, the sidewalk diverges from a straight line that runs parallel to the street and it takes serpentine twists and turns through a desolated park-like area. I never see anyone occupying this park even though it is painstakingly maintained and watered—another green area in the desert that no one sits or walks on. Sitting or walking on the green would seem contrary to the point of the building of the "park". It bothers me that someone had an idea that so obviously forced me to take a circuitous route when all I want in that location is a the straightest point to where I need to be. A lot of the time, we have to walk around buildings but here I was being made to walk around an invisible point in space. So I usually just walk on the grass next to the curb.

Close by to this area is nearly a square mile of vacant dirt lot. There are neat sidewalks that run around the perimeter and "No Trespassing" signs scattered throughout the lot. In this situation, it makes more sense to walk directly across the center of the lot on a diagonal to the corner I'm getting to. The lot is desolate and whatever plants manage to grow are raked up and sprayed with herbicide to keep it "maintained" by city ordinances. My decision to walk directly across the center of this lot has to be a deliberate decision since again, it's implied that I take the much longer route along the perimeter. No harm is caused to the lot by walking across it but at some point it was determined that this was unwanted. The city impresses it's control again. And as I cross the center, I take note of all the undisturbed footprints around me—like walking on the moon.

Thursday, March 5, 2009

shadows on the perimeter

shadows recorded on perimeter of tourist map in Phoenix, AZ

Wednesday, March 4, 2009

Familiarity

I walk around and tell myself I'm supposed to be there so while I'm there, I'm not the outsider but the insider and everyone I observe is determined to be outside or inside. The ones who aren't supposed to be there are given things they're supposed to see. The ones who are supposed to be there (me and the others I determine) are given nothing but the idea that the others are seeing something that isn't entirely meant for us. It's a concept and intentional. My experience is accidental and subverting the plan.

The familiarity with the landscape, buildings, people and memories around me strengthen my unfamiliarity. I can't know it except by how I remember it and a person could spend the rest of their lifetime trying to understand all the parts while it constantly shifts and always becomes something else.

Tuesday, March 3, 2009

"pay attention"

For some reason, this is the thing i yell when i'm almost getting hit by a car or just escaped a near-death experience with one. The other thing i like to yell is "i'm a f-ing human being!". There's also pointing out that i'm in a crosswalk, but i don't think that has the same impact.

Despite the dire nature of me almost capturing either my death or at least severe maiming on video, I can't help but laugh loudly at how much my voice slowed down sounds like a mooing cow.

One thing about walking in Phoenix, whether for performance, destination or fitness—you are taking your life in your own hands. The woman who almost hit me was blowing a bubble as she was doing it.

Monday, March 2, 2009

Inside and out



For at least 2 weeks in a row, I've sat in front of an older couple on the train on a Saturday who have obviously not been downtown for a long time. One of them points out "oh, there's that" or "that used to be this". Things were things, places were places. They were either there or they weren't anymore. The city, to them, was defined by these landmarks which, to me, had very little significance. I may take the Bank of America building for granted but it's certainly not what I consider makes the city what it is.

Whenever I look at a tourist map of a place I know fairly well, I can't help but get slightly irked at what is pointed out as an important part of the landscape. Not that I expect them to mark what I consider important (this place has good coffee on sundays but not wednesdays or this video store has $1 VHS rentals on tuesdays) but it always seems to cheapen the experience of the place. But what can they do? It's a tourist map—most likely produced with sponsorship by certain entities that want to be highlighted somehow. The design and emphases of the map take this all into consideration.

The boundaries are interesting. Why this side and not that side? Why is this building shown but not labeled; a road not marked; a green area fictionally created? Why is this building on the non-labeled side of the street labeled but nothing else? Why is a financial building considered a tourist destination? Why do I feel like i'm being pushed and shoved into a perception of a place I know very well?

All of these questions and more went into the beginnings of this Perimeter Walk piece.