Susan Dieterlen
  • Home
  • Bookshelf
  • City Wild Blog
  • Workshops and Classes
  • About Susan
  • Connect

City Wild
Unraveling Urban Life and Space

How to (Not) Speak in Stone

6/9/2020

 
Picture
What's on this memorial? What's missing?
​Indianapolis has a Confederate monument? Has anyone told Indy they’re in the north? 

The story gets weirder when you look into it, and ultimately worse. Yes, Indiana was on the side of the Union during the Civil War, despite snark about it being the northernmost southern state today. It was so Union that there was a prison camp in Indianapolis, where a number of Confederate soldiers died. Hence a monument to those dead Confederates, in a cemetery, appropriately enough. But wait: that monument moves out of the cemetery and into a prominent public park in the 1920s, when - here it comes - the Klan more or less ran Indiana. The official reason for moving the monument to the park was to make it more visible to the public. Seems safe to say the real reason was to emphasize the Klan’s power, especially to African-Americans and their other targets. What’s really damning in my view is the century or so that the monument remained in that park. Meanwhile the remains of the dead Confederates were moved to Crown Hill, the city’s most prominent cemetery where all the historic stuff seems to be, and a second marker went up there, making the original monument redundant as well as Klan-tainted.

Monuments speak, often saying things other than what they literally say.

I used to spend a lot of time road biking past historic markers in upstate New York. At the (slow) speed I move, there’s plenty of time to digest what the marker says, and what it leaves out. Or who it leaves out. Like, say, the bronze roadside plaques marking the oldest of old farms on rural roads, established in 17-whatever by some colonial guy - let’s call him Josiah Smith - and celebrated for remaining in the family’s hands to this day, more or less as an operating farm. A couple centuries in farming is an accomplishment, but it’s an accomplishment largely done by people who weren’t Josiah.  When Josiah broke ground on the edge of civilization back when, he was doing the same thing that all his neighbors, assuming there were some, were doing. The farm didn’t become plaque-worthy for a century or two, time when that farm continued to run because of descendants, hired hands (enslaved hands, other places), generations of women… All of whom hide behind that plaque. Nameless.

Last night I learned about the struggle to memorialize the 1887 massacre of black sugarcane workers in Thibodaux, Louisiana, from the current issue of Oxford American. The story mentions historic buildings and plaques around town, and I imagine there’s a few mentions of Confederates among those, but the town scarcely remembers the massacre, even forgetting the mass grave under the American Legion post. (!) 

Compared to a mass grave, what’s a few farm women? What’s history, and what isn’t, is malleable, easy to erase or revise. Set it in stone in a obelisk in the town square, and your version becomes the only version, instantly respectable, still silent about so many things that mattered. 

Also posted on Medium.

More Empty Pedestals

6/4/2020

 
Picture
Dead white guy, but from Grant's army, not the rebels. You get the idea, though. ( www.stockvault.net)
From the fire hose of news about the massive wave of protests following the death of George Floyd comes this: more statues and monuments are coming down. Confederate soldiers, even Lee, but also other notable men (so far, all men) from our racist past. Richmond, Birmingham, and Alexandria (VA) join this list, but given the renewed focus on these monuments and the intensity of the protests, other cities are likely to join the club soon. Stay tuned. While you do, revisit these 2017 thoughts about losing statues and what empty pedestals say.

Empty Pedestals (8/18/2017)

​The statues are coming down. Some are surprised how easy it is to physically remove a statue, or just pull it down. It’s true: removing a bronze statue can be as simple as cutting through a handful of bolts, far less effort than it takes to reach consensus about whether the statues should stay or go. Statues of this kind, that commemorate famous men (and sometimes women) in public places outdoors generally sit upon a plinth or platform of some kind. That pedestal is by far the more difficult piece to remove, being a large block of solid stone or other masonry extending well below the soil’s surface.

The pedestal is essential to the statue - it keeps Stonewall or whoever from sinking into the ground or tipping over - but people don’t have strong feelings about plinths. It’s just the stage for the main event. A grand pedestal makes its statue higher, but also elevates it figuratively, saying that whatever stands atop it is worthy of attention, if not veneration. When the statue goes, that stage becomes empty. The way things are going, we may soon have quite a few of them.

What hen happens to the empty pedestals? The obvious choice is removal. Removing a pedestal is not so emotionally fraught, just a surprisingly expensive bit of demolition. Demolish the plinth, excavate its substantial footing, fill in the hole, and cover the spot with grass or pavement. You can make it look like no statue was ever there. That’s erasure, and some will say that is exactly what should happen. That park or avenue can look as though this entire argument we are living through never happened at all.

From an urban design standpoint, statues are more than who or what they honor. They are often the focal point of a space. The kind of traditional statues of soldiers and statesmen in question here typically form part of a symmetrical, classical layout, as the center of a circle or endpoint of an axis, for example. As focal points, they do not simply say “look at this person,” but also “look at this spot,” highlighting a location where lines cross or an important space is entered. If that focal point is totally erased, it will be odd, like a missing tooth. In other places, Confederate statues are one memorial among many, grouped on a courthouse lawn or in a park. In those situations, one memorial more or less won’t matter so much. 

What else can you do with an empty pedestal? You can put something else atop it, a new player on the stage. This could be another permanent (sort of) memorial to a less controversial hero. Or you could sidestep permanence and use that spot as a rotating gallery of sorts, like the Fourth Plinth in London’s Trafalgar Square. Replacement is erasure, too, in a different, more dynamic form. 

The empty pedestal itself calls to mind cathedral niches deprived of their saints during the Reformation. Those niches speak eloquently of the history of their churches and abbeys, before the Reformation and after. The empty pedestal and the void above it are themselves history. They are questions rendered in stone: what was here? why is it gone? why was it here in the first place?  
 
Over 150 years have passed since the end of the Civil War, and we are arguing, bitterly, over these statues and what they mean and to whom. One hundred fifty years far surpasses the duration of the war itself, from 1861 to 1865. Our divisions over race, which are inextricable from the Civil War and its memory, are of course far older, essentially beginning with European settlement of North America. As a shaping force, these centuries-long divisions may be more influential than any war, even one as bitter as our civil war. If our public space should highlight important elements of our history, perhaps these divisions deserve a mention. But how do you memorialize a rift?

The empty pedestal makes a statement of its own. Here something was venerated, for some reason, and then it was not, for some reason. Perhaps these questions and the rifts they highlight deserve a spot among our war heroes and founders. A few of our soon-to-be empty pedestals could remain vacant, filled with questions about who we’ve been, and who we are. 

(Also posted on Medium here.)

Empty Pedestals

8/18/2017

 
Picture

​The statues are coming down. Some are surprised how easy it is to physically remove a statue, or just pull it down. It’s true: removing a bronze statue can be as simple as cutting through a handful of bolts, far less effort than it takes to reach consensus about whether the statues should stay or go. Statues of this kind, that commemorate famous men (and sometimes women) in public places outdoors generally sit upon a plinth or platform of some kind. That pedestal is by far the more difficult piece to remove, being a large block of solid stone or other masonry extending well below the soil’s surface.

The pedestal is essential to the statue - it keeps Stonewall or whoever from sinking into the ground or tipping over - but people don’t have strong feelings about plinths. It’s just the stage for the main event. A grand pedestal makes its statue higher, but also elevates it figuratively, saying that whatever stands atop it is worthy of attention, if not veneration. When the statue goes, that stage becomes empty. The way things are going, we may soon have quite a few of them.

What hen happens to the empty pedestals? The obvious choice is removal. Removing a pedestal is not so emotionally fraught, just a surprisingly expensive bit of demolition. Demolish the plinth, excavate its substantial footing, fill in the hole, and cover the spot with grass or pavement. You can make it look like no statue was ever there. That’s erasure, and some will say that is exactly what should happen. That park or avenue can look as though this entire argument we are living through never happened at all.

From an urban design standpoint, statues are more than who or what they honor. They are often the focal point of a space. The kind of traditional statues of soldiers and statesmen in question here typically form part of a symmetrical, classical layout, as the center of a circle or endpoint of an axis, for example. As focal points, they do not simply say “look at this person,” but also “look at this spot,” highlighting a location where lines cross or an important space is entered. If that focal point is totally erased, it will be odd, like a missing tooth. In other places, Confederate statues are one memorial among many, grouped on a courthouse lawn or in a park. In those situations, one memorial more or less won’t matter so much. 

What else can you do with an empty pedestal? You can put something else atop it, a new player on the stage. This could be another permanent (sort of) memorial to a less controversial hero. Or you could sidestep permanence and use that spot as a rotating gallery of sorts, like the Fourth Plinth in London’s Trafalgar Square. Replacement is erasure, too, in a different, more dynamic form. 

The empty pedestal itself calls to mind cathedral niches deprived of their saints during the Reformation. Those niches speak eloquently of the history of their churches and abbeys, before the Reformation and after. The empty pedestal and the void above it are themselves history. They are questions rendered in stone: what was here? why is it gone? why was it here in the first place?  
 
Over 150 years have passed since the end of the Civil War, and we are arguing, bitterly, over these statues and what they mean and to whom. One hundred fifty years far surpasses the duration of the war itself, from 1861 to 1865. Our divisions over race, which are inextricable from the Civil War and its memory, are of course far older, essentially beginning with European settlement of North America. As a shaping force, these centuries-long divisions may be more influential than any war, even one as bitter as our civil war. If our public space should highlight important elements of our history, perhaps these divisions deserve a mention. But how do you memorialize a rift?

The empty pedestal makes a statement of its own. Here something was venerated, for some reason, and then it was not, for some reason. Perhaps these questions and the rifts they highlight deserve a spot among our war heroes and founders. A few of our soon-to-be empty pedestals could remain vacant, filled with questions about who we’ve been, and who we are. 

(Also posted on Medium here.)

A Zoo for Street Art

9/14/2015

 
Picture
www.boredpanda.com
When Banksy opens a theme park, I expect my inbox to fill up. And indeed, two versions of coverage of “Dismaland” have come my way (so far; thanks, Ely and Tim!): The NY Times' "Banksy's 'Dismaland' in England: It's a Strange World, After All," and Bored Panda's "Banksy's Dismaland: Take a First Look Inside Nightmare Version of Disneyland." This is some crazy stuff. 

To begin with, let me say that I am completely in love with the ruined Cinderella’s castle. I would love to visit this place. The pure subversive grandeur must be overwhelming. And the wit is very appealing, though dark, of course. And what could be a more appealing target for satire than those “other” theme parks, the ones with the mouse? Banksy’s signature rat sure ain’t Mickey.

But: in a way it tames Banksy’s work and that of other guerrilla street artists to corral it into a designated space like this, even one with the self-conscious wit and irony of a dystopian theme park. Part of the power of street art is its unexpectedness, the combination of raw edge and delight that comes from the discovery of artwork in the ragged fringes of our environment. The setting is very much part of the art, whether that’s on a very small site scale, like A Common Name's Urban Geodes sculptures in cracks and gaps (see earlier post), or in terms of larger context, like Banksy’s "I remember when all this was trees" mural at the old Packard Plant in Detroit. The controversy surrounding the removal of that work to a local gallery to protect (preserve? control? neutralize?) it illustrates just how valuable the context is. 

I also wonder about the impact of the lack of contrast between individual pieces and the whole of Dismaland. Much of street art’s marvelous subversiveness comes from its placement where we think no art should be, and that contrast and transgressive nature sets off the artwork. Because it breaks the rules, we notice it. We see it more clearly because of the contrast, like positive and negative space. Is this sense numbed after the fifth or tenth or fiftieth installation you pass at Dismaland? Tigers in the wild hold your attention (that's involuntary attention/fascination, people!), to say the least. Tigers at the zoo can be just part of the background. When everything is subversive, perhaps nothing is.

Final notes: Dismaland is a limited-time exhibition, so if you want to see it in person, hurry. Promotional material underscores the presence of a gift shop - the mentions are ironic, yes, but I'm sure the sales are real. I'll be best friends forever with anyone who sends me a Dismaland tee shirt.

Street art in tiny leftover spaces

4/26/2015

 
Picture
That's folded paper and spray paint or cast resin, materials fans! The craft involved in this is amazing. I really want to stumble upon one of these.

URBAN GEODE STREET ART
by a common name

Website and photo gallery

Experiments in weedscaping

3/29/2015

 
Picture
From Erica. I highly recommend the book featured in the post linked to below.

CROP CIRCLES AND URBAN MEADOWS

March 27, 2011 · by bmilligan on Free Association Design

Full story and blog

Banksy's back...on Instagram

2/27/2015

 
Picture
From Mike
Banksy Unveils New Street Art in Gaza and Films a Travel Commercial for the War-Ravaged Region
BY CAMERON WOLF, ANDREW LASANE
 



Full story with links

"What We're Doing is Not Graffiti..."

10/15/2014

0 Comments

 
Picture
From Tim-
Detroit declares war on murals, goes after popular Grand River Creative Corridor
Motor City Muckraker, October 15, 2014

Full story

0 Comments

Art to ruin at Heidelberg

4/15/2014

 
Picture
From City Wild alum Ely:
Fires in Detroit Destroy an Artist’s Canvas: Vacant Houses
By MONICA DAVEY APRIL 3, 2014

Full story


Amazing craftivist installation in Syracuse!

2/25/2014

 
Picture
From Zach, mentioned in class, local, and totally amazing!Quilted Gas Station Project Highlights Concern Over Global Oil Dependence 


Full story

<<Previous

    Categories

    All
    Behavior
    Brownfields
    #citybynext
    Climate Change
    Design
    Design X Deficit
    Diversity
    Energy
    Graffiti
    Health
    Infrastructure
    Invasives
    Lectures
    #pandemic
    Planning
    Public Art
    Publications
    ReForest
    Resilience
    Ruins
    Shrinking Cities
    Student Work
    Transgressive Use
    Vacancy
    Wildlife
    Winter Places

    About

    Assorted drafts, previews, and outtakes from the book I'm currently writing about the impact of vegetation and neglect on urban life. I also take other thoughts for a test drive here, including nascent design and research ideas.

    City Wild carries on the discussions and spirit of my 2011-2014 class, City Wild Seminar. This began as a forum for websites, articles, and other intriguing stuff sent to me (Susan Dieterlen) by current and former students, colleagues, and other well-wishers.  

    Thanks for visiting! If you want to be notified about new blog posts and other publications, please fill out the form below and put "blog updates" in the Comment section. 

    RSS Feed

      Keep Me Updated!

    Submit

    Archives

    September 2020
    August 2020
    July 2020
    June 2020
    April 2020
    March 2020
    January 2020
    July 2019
    October 2018
    September 2018
    July 2018
    May 2018
    March 2018
    February 2018
    November 2017
    October 2017
    August 2017
    April 2017
    March 2017
    February 2017
    January 2017
    November 2016
    October 2016
    August 2016
    July 2016
    May 2016
    April 2016
    March 2016
    February 2016
    January 2016
    December 2015
    November 2015
    October 2015
    September 2015
    August 2015
    June 2015
    April 2015
    March 2015
    February 2015
    January 2015
    November 2014
    October 2014
    September 2014
    August 2014
    June 2014
    May 2014
    April 2014
    March 2014
    February 2014
    January 2014
    December 2013
    November 2013
    October 2013
    September 2013
    August 2013
    July 2013
    June 2013

Powered by Create your own unique website with customizable templates.
  • Home
  • Bookshelf
  • City Wild Blog
  • Workshops and Classes
  • About Susan
  • Connect