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Spatial Stories in Northern Manhattan

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237 GLOBA LIZING ARCHI TECTURE / Flo ws and Disrup ons
Spaal Stories in Northern
Manhaan
The comparavely recent resurgence of community engagement in architecture
and architectural education has produced a host of methodologies and tech-
niques for approaching unloved spaces and addressing populaons tradionally
under- or poorly served by architecture.1 The opportunity to take stock of these
techniques is a chance to compare them to their precedents in Event Art and
community acvism, both dierent manifestaons of the producve dissasfac-
on that characterized the late 1960s and 1970s. The loose contemporary use
of the term “Parcipatory Design”, with its roots in Human Computer Interacon
research in Scandinavia, deserves equal scrutiny. But it also begs the question
of whether any of those methodologies are inherently “architectural” – or how
architecture’s contribuon can compare to a methodological approach derived
from sociological pracce or to ephemeral event or installaon art.
Dr. Mindy Fullilove’s book, quoted above, documents her undertakings to
restore urban communities progressively destroyed by the practices around
“urban blight.” Through desigNYC, a New York-based not-for-prot that matches
designers and not-for-prots, we worked from January, 2013 to October, 2014,
with CLIMB (City Living is Moving Bodies), a group co-directed by Dr. Fullilove,
Professor of Public Health at Mailman School of Public Health at Columbia
University, and Lourdes Rodriguez, Program Officer at New York State Health
Foundaon. It is dedicated to the revitalizaon of Northern Manhaan’s most
easterly parks. The quotaons correspond to two aspects of the “urban alchemy
described by Dr. Fullilove and central to our collaboraon: the recognion of a
spaal story’s power to aect the strength and health of a community, and the
“I urge you,” Cantal continued, “to find the paths to the rivers and to rec-
reate those paths…to celebrate your ancestors and the way they lived.”
“Tamanika Howse stopped me at that point. You mean to tell me
my community is dead?” she asked accusingly. I was terrified by
the look in her eyes. If I did mean that, I wanted to take it back.”
Mindy Fullilove, Urban Alchemy: Restoring Joy in America’s Sorted
Out Cities (New Village Press: New York, 2013), p.59 and 58
AKI ISHIDA
Virginia Tech
LYNNETTE WIDDER
Columbia University
Realizi ng the Righ t to the City 238Spaal S tories in Nort hern Manhaan
surprisingly indirect communicaon lines along which diverse cohorts can con-
tribute to that recognion.
On the basis of our work with CLIMB, our paper suggests architecture’s unique
contribution is its capacity to locate that story and communicate it within the
spaces at stake.
EVENT ART, HAPPENINGS AND COMMUNITY WORK
The history of art and design as social catalysts is complex, but one definitive
shift from ar tifact to explicitly social, participatory occurrence is allied to the
politicization of everyday life in the late 1950s and 60s. From Alan Kaprow’s
“Happenings” to Fluxus’ Food restaurant in Soho to Ant Farm’s DIY videos or pick-
up truck university, the era’s art producon showed disciplines how visual culture
oered techniques, outcomes and eects with which to include people outside
the usual audiences. More earnest inclusionary work was done by architects and
schools of architecture in support of Community Development Corporations,
first created by an amendment sponsored by Senators Robert Kennedy and
Jacob Javits to the 1964 Economic Opportunity Act; Pra Instute’s Center for
Community and Environmental Development (PICCED), founded the same year
under the directorship of Ron Shiffman, is the oldest university-based CDC in
the US. Using the visualizaon techniques of architecture and urban design cou-
pled with parcipatory meengs and outreach educaon, such organizaons as
PICCED (now PCCD) proved the ecacy of visual pracce and design as tools of
polical advocacy (Pra Center Story, accessed September 16, 2013).
Event Art, Fluxus and such Neo-Avantgardists as Ant Farm have been lionized by
recent exhibions and publicaons as part of the resurgent art historical interest
in the 1960s. Their advocacy contemporaries have garnered less aenon, per-
haps because their “design” quoent is less obvious. They are nonetheless valu-
able and understudied precedents for engaged architectural pracce.
PARTICIPATORY DESIGN AND ITS ROOTS IN IT RESEARCH IN SCANDINAVIA
The phrase Parcipator y Design was rst used in the Human Computer Interac on
(HCI) eld in the 1970s. As the Routledge Internaonal Handbook of Parcipatory
Design describes, “Parcipatory design is about the direct involvement of people
in the co-design of the technologies they use. Its central concern is how collab-
orave design processes can be driven by the parcipaon of the people aected
by the technology designed.” This approach has its roots in 1970s Information
Technology (IT) research in Scandinavia, some of the least hierarchical countries
in the world. Parcipatory design aimed to increase workers’ parcipaon in how
the design and use of computer applicaons aected them. The rst example was
the Norwegian Iron and Metal Workers Union in which IT researchers and union
workers collaborated to improve working condions through the use of comput-
ers; both pares became stakeholders and beneciaries of the research (Bodker
2009, 276). The Florence Project, conducted between 1984 to 87 by the Instute
of Informacs at University of Oslo and State Hospital of Oslo iniated a series of
participatory design efforts in healthcare. High on the project’s agenda was to
elicit input from female nurses whose voices were oen suppressed by those of
more skilled male colleagues (Kensing and Greenbaum, 29).
By definition, CLIMB’s desire to draw out its constituency shares similarities
with these studies. When the residents of areas near the parks partake in com-
munity input acvies, they become stakeholders and are more likely to invest
239 GLOBAL IZING ARCHIT ECTURE / Flow s and Disrupo ns
themselves in the projects’ success, an eect well known in the social sciences.
This approach to expanding the users’ stake in their workplace (or parks and
institutions) has parallels in the design of architecture. As the Scandinavian IT
researchers did for the workers who ulmately used the soware, architects can
acvely assist the client in reecng upon their spaal interacons.
One of the primary insights offered by Dr. Fullilove’s books is the impor-
tance of the physical, spatial context of social interactions, even if that space
is only vaguely or subconsciously registered. The charrettes and workshops
we designed foregrounded the spatial context of CLIMB’s cohort, drawing out
insights anchored in the physical world that will make for acve users/occupants
in the long run.
DESIGN THINKING
By the early 1990s, the disparate threads of IT, post-war Avant Garde and visual
communicaon for community acvism were entangled with what had been des-
ignated “design thinking.” In a Neo-Liberal twist on the enthusiasc conaon of
art and life, innovaon and creavity are now marketed as a proprietary consult-
ing methodology that conjoins a “human centered” approach to the capacity for
business “growth” by “uncovering latent needs, behaviors, and desires.” (Ideo.
com accessed 9.19.13). The business community’s acknowledgement that risk-
taking and creativity have now been outsourced should ratify design culture’s
validity. Instead, it seeks to make repeatable methodologies out of art and archi-
tecture’s potential to act inclusively, focusing on ensuring that companies will
“innovate without interrupon to drive growth and protability” (Turnali 2013).
In many corporate conference rooms, the Post-it and Sharpie have become the
sine qua non of design engagement. “Public art ” struggles to innovate when its
techniques have been appropriated as a xed consulng repertoire. As design
threatens to become saturated with facile symbolism, what should architecture
contribute, beyond the clichéd workshops? As we worked to understand the
value of our contribuons to a group of clients well versed in the human centric
and parcipatory pracces of urban public health, both physical and psychologi-
cal, we were cauous to foreground our essenal goal: to capture the spaal con-
text and its signicance for CLIMB’s cohort.
WORKING WITH CLIMB
CLIMB is founded on the belief that safe parks and neighborhoods are essenal
to community health. Its mission is to enhance the physical, social, psychologi-
cal and economic health of deprived neighborhoods by re-integrating a series
of parks into everyday life (CLIMB report 2007, 1). Advocating for Northern
Manhattan’s economically and culturally diverse communities, CLIMB is com-
prised of an equally diverse group of individuals and organizations. This area
includes Washington Heights and Inwood’s 71% Hispanic and 17% African
American population, and Morningside Heights and Harlem, which are 67%
African American and 20% Hispanic (CLIMB report 2007, 4) within a total popu-
laon of ca. 530,000. This area suered from ‘planned shrinkage’ in the 1970’s
where the city shut down re staons in poor neighborhoods and let them burn
down. This caused population displacement and triggered epidemics of AIDs,
crack cocaine, mental illnesses, and related violence. (Fullilove 2013, 16-17).
CLIMB formed out of a group of social and medical sciensts studying the impact
of such illnesses, division, and neglect suered by these residents.
Realizi ng the Righ t to the City 240Spaa l Stories in Nor thern Manhaa n
Although CLIMB is led by public health exper ts and promotes the parks as a
means of maintaining physical and mental tness, it does not communicate its
mission overtly. There is no preaching about obesity or bad eang habits; rather,
the focus is on taking back spaces and reinforcing the identity of the archipel-
ago of parks as a shared physical and social asset. This attitude is reflected in
the name CLIMB gave to the trail unifying the parks: the Girae Path. The name
derives from the parks’ outline on a map, with Fort Tryon Park at the north as the
girae’s head, followed by its neck - Highbridge Park, Jackie Robinson Park, St.
Nicholas Park, Morningside Park - ending with Central Park at the south.
The most visible, ambitious event that CLIMB organizes is the annual Hike the
Heights, in which thousands of residents walk from six dierent starng points
along the Girae Path, culminang in a party in High Bridge Park. For the “Parade
of Girae” organized by Creave Arts Workshops for Kids, one of CLIMB’s part-
ners, school children make giraes that are displayed along the path.
When CLIMB submied their applicaon to desigNYC, they had recognized the
need to consolidate the path’s identity. The design collaborators, led by two
teams of architects and educators, Aki Ishida and Lynnee Widder, and Kaja Kühl,
agreed to 1) run a series of charrees and workshops, including a laboratory for
community input during the annual event; 2) design a hiking path map to fore-
ground the unique idenes of these parks; 3) provide a concept design of physi-
cal markers and connecons to be installed in city streets and parks; and 4) assist
CLIMB in seeking ways to idenfy and enhance those park features that are dis-
nct from other iconic parks in Manhaan such as Central Park and the Highline.
WALKING IN SEARCH FOR PARKS’ IDENTITY
We began our work with a cold February walk through the parks from top to bot-
tom. At the first charrette shortly thereafter, CLIMB’s key members each con-
tributed ten printed photos of their favorite places or items along the Giraffe
Path, which were then located on a large printed map of the trail. Seeing the
photos together allowed us to identify six spatial categories of primary fea-
tures: Topography, Vista, Nature, Historical Reference, Infrastructure, and
Microclimates. This process revealed that dening the parks’ shared identy was
no less signicant than the map. CLIMB had asked for help in “making the path”: a
clear identy would in turn ‘make’ the path, rst psychologically, then physically.
We noted that the Latin root of the word identity is identitās, which means to
repeat again and again. Taking cues from this root, we speculated that those physi-
cal features, which repeat along the Girae Path, were synonymous with its iden-
ty. We dislled these features to the vastness of infrastructure; the overgrown
park as wilderness; and the dramatic views that juxtaposed infrastructure with
wilderness. We then proceeded to verify these features within a larger cohort.
THE STORY: 100 BLOCKS OF DRAMA
At the outset, we took a more instrumental view towards the charrettes and
workshop, assuming that they would produce informaon to be directly incorpo-
rated into a printed map. By the end of the first charrette, however, the focus
changed. The images captured ephemeral qualities – seasons, passing views,
ora – rather than stac landmarks. The parks’ story unfolds through revising:
identās. Personal favorites were extrapolated to general spaal qualies. It was
at this point that the two design teams disentwined their eorts to focus either
on arfacts or, as CLIMB called it, “the story,” which we took on.
241 GLOBA LIZING ARCHI TECTURE / Flo ws and Disrup ons
The parks all express dramatically Manhattan’s geological past: a steep
schist escarpment runs north from the western edge of Central Park through
Morningside Park, where it dies into Amsterdam Avenue. Just north of 125th
Street, it reappears, subdividing St. Nicholas Park longitudinally, with basketball
courts on the atland and City College’s Neogothic campus on its western ridge.
The public pool at the south end of Jackie Robinson Park lies below an enormous
40-foot retaining wall cut from the escarpment. In Highbridge Park, the most
feral of all, the living rock creates promontories vast enough to face o with the
I-95 extensions through the Bronx to the east as well as rock walls and craggy
climbs appropriate to urban rock climbers and mountain bikers. The escarpment
became the backbone of the spaal story: 100 blocks of drama.
THOUGHT BUBBLES AND CHALKED MAP
June 1st, 2013 was the ninth Hike the Heights, the acvity around which CLIMB
has coalesced each year since it’s founding. Some 1,200 children and adults,
many aliated with organizaons sharing common values, hiked the linked parks
from the north and the south to converge on a playground at the escarpment’s
upper side in Highbridge Park. The playground party was a vibrant, cacophonous
mixture of dance contest, picnic, arts and crafts stands, nutritional coaching,
sacks of apples for the taking. With its mobile and celebratory moments, Hike the
Heights was the ideal, producvely unruly environment to gather informaon and
responses from the people who already knew the Girae Path, and to make obser-
vaons that could fuel producve speculaon about how to expand that cohort.
Part life-size comic book dialogue, part out-sized Post-it note, yellow and brown
construcon paper “Thought Bubbles”/locaon markers were distributed to each
hiking group; several of our volunteers accompanied each group to encourage
their fellow hikers to record wishes for or direct responses to the park spaces
through which they were moving. Planted into the ground on small stakes, elds
of Thought Bubbles were meant to recall girae markings and to chart anies
among ideas, people and places. The inscribed bubbles were then photographed
on locaon and posted onInstagram, where they were logged with geographic
coordinates. At the playground, we chalked a 16 foot-long version of the map
with the path people had just hiked in red. Although we had intended for people
to write in chalk, cross-referencing their experience with map locaons, our best
intenons were oset by the arrival of a group of kids who just wanted to chalk.
The map lled up prey quickly, amid stories of trails that included quicksand,
barracudas and tentacle-grass – a chalked video game? – but also became a cen-
ter for acvity, conversaon and introducons over the course of the aernoon.
That rst enthusiasc group of kids proved just how recepve they were to the
idea of a trail, especially one that oered adventures along the way.
Learning from Happenings and parcipatory community meengs of the 1960’s,
our workshops gathered data from a wide secon of parcipants, including those
who regularly aend community meengs to those who otherwise may not, such
as children and enthusiasts who came as a result of desigNYC associaon.
SPATIAL DEPI CTION OF DATA
By the end of June 1, we had amassed information for a more differentiated
assessment of CLIMB’s cohort and its interests. We grouped the 170 photo-
graphed Thought Bubbles according to several dierent categories, each of which
highlighted dierent readings of the data:
Figure 1: top: 16 -foot long chalk map of the Girae
Path became a center of conversaons during Hike
the Height s 2013, boom: Under Highbridge, hikers
show the thoughts they wrote on their bubbles.
One says, ‘I like how much COOLER it is in the
pa rks ’.
1
Realizi ng the Righ t to the City 242Spaa l Stories in Nor thern Manhaa n
· age of contributor (there were plenty of kids)
· locaon of comment, and presumed locale to which it responded
· expectaons of how a park would be used, based upon the comments’ content.
This last category proved most relevant to the queson CLIMB had rst posed:
what is the parks’ story and what lines of communicaon can convey it?
Our findings are summarized in the Thought Bubble map. The comments on
some Thought Bubbles reected the idea that the parks were spaces for reec-
on and codied recreaon. These appeared as requests for beer maintenance,
more seang, playgrounds, tended playing elds. Other Thought Bubbles chal-
lenged these expectaons, advocang for the unique landscape space that has
developed in these parks, especially in Highbridge, aer years of disinvestment:
the wild or feral park, the forest, the sheer rock walls, the expanses of untamed
vegetation to contrast the scale of the adjacent highway infrastructure of the
Cross Bronx and Bruckner Expressways. Between these two extremes of tamed
and wild were Thought Bubbles that documented the park’s cool, breezy micro-
climate; its animals; and its varied ora.
Conversaons around the chalked map resulted in other insights: that CLIMB’s
current strength is its capacity to draw together a broad set of aligned groups
and acvists, including city agencies, school groups, Eagle scouts, not-for-prots
and university aliates. An inventory of these groups and people suggested com-
municaons paths forward, to expand the cohort of CLIMB parcipants. It also
gave a context to our Thought Bubble analysis: the comments upon which we
were basing our assessment were all drawn from a group that already acvely
knew and used the parks. What could their comments tell us about how to reach
CLIMB’s yet-untapped cohort, including those who live near to the parks? What
were the limits of our data and how could we avoid preaching to the converted?
Figure 2: Le: Map of Nor thern Manhaan with
thought bubbles located geographically.
Right: Enlarged detail of map with red and blue
bubbles keyed into the map.
Basemap by youarethecity, Thought Bubble
summary by Aki Ishida A rchitec t.
2
243 GLOBAL IZING ARCHI TECTURE / Flow s and Disrup ons
Parcipant input from Hike the Heights 2013 on Thought Bubbles was related to
its spaal triggers on a Girae Path trail map. Comments in blue were wrien by
adults, red bubbles by children, and they are keyed into the map. The green bub-
bles are comments that were not locaon-specic.
EXPANDING CLIMB’S COHORTS
The DesigNYC project marked a watershed for CLIMB, aer three earlier collabo-
raons with architects. They had consolidated the groups and individuals who are
part of their constuency, and wanted to extend knowledge of the trail to access
new groups. Our work helped to disll the parks’ identy as dependent upon shared
spaal characteriscs, especially the escarpment; and to chart in visual terms the
spatial desires that the parks inspire. As Dr. Fullilove explained to us, “East-west
movement is how people use the park…the escarpment and its stairs were a really
central conceptual insight. Your work brought in more voices but also helped to pull
together what other designers had already said to us.” (In conversaon, 1.16.14)
The diagram we developed below maps the way CLIMB and the Girae Path reg-
ister within the current key cohort. Within the innermost circle is the Girae Path
trail. The next ring includes current parcipants in Hike the Heights. The le-hand
side of the diagram shows tangible, targeted outreach tools; the right-hand side
focuses on more ephemeral and exible approaches. Each vector indicates the
means by which CLIMB could expand to new potenal constuencies. For exam-
ple, the scaled map, one outcome of the desigNYC/CLIMB collaboraon, can, in
its printed form, become a tool for local business owners to inform people who
frequent their stores about the trail. It can also be used to demonstrate synergies
to the Parks Department, as Parks invests in some of the more neglected sites.
The strategies mapped here play out a conclusion drawn from Hike the Heights,
the potenal eecveness of intergeneraonal communicaon: many children
parcipated in the hike and the Thought Bubble exercise, indicang the strength
of CLIMB’s ability to motivate kids. Providing these kids with artifacts (such as
maps or booklets) and ideas that will also interest their parents could have signi-
cant posive eect. Intergeneraonal communicaon could anchor the parks as
a shared space in the daily life of the adjacent neighborhoods.
CONCLUSIONS
As Dr Fullilove remarked, “the dierence is not in architects’ data collecon but
in the cognive frame: architects look at spaal data whereas public health peo-
ple see social processes, whereas space is a black box.” (In conversaon, 1.16.14)
Neither our data per se nor the conclusions we drew, although useful to CLIMB,
were beyond the capacity of a careful survey or study. We concluded that the
disncon was in the ways we staged events at which informaon was gathered,
and our spaal depicons of that informaon. We took the post-it notes from the
conference room whiteboards into the real space of the Girae Path in the form
of Thought Bubbles. Coupling story and space allowed us to summarize the out-
comes on a trail map, keying narraves to locaons along the path. To further
transmit this spatial component, we developed a binder of working strategies
that now funcons as a guidebook for CLIMB’s future path-making, oering ideas
for spaally located acvies and ways of asking quesons which will provoke
visually communicable responses.
Parcipatory Design, as the term is loosely used, does not reside in formulaic rec-
ipes for acvies or outcomes. Instead, its principles support mutual learning, in
3
Figure 3: Thought bubbles and park features
were photographed, posted on Ins tagram,
and geographically located on map of Nothern
Manhaan.
Realizi ng the Righ t to the City 244Spaa l Stories in Nor thern Manhaa n
which architects learn about the context of their project just as clients and future
occupants of a space learn about themselves: it gives populations not usually
empowered to speak new inuence on design decisions and facilitates co-real-
izaon through visual prototyping among parcipants that may have conicng
interests and a range of visualizaon skills (Breeteig et al 2013, 132-133).
By helping to record the dialogues that residents of Northern Manhaan have
with their park spaces, we began to discover aspects of these methodologies
that make architects’ contribuons disnct. We helped CLIMB visualize in spaal
terms the physical and social assets that they already have. Qualitave analyses
and documentaons of their hiking acvies existed as reports, papers, photos,
and videos. As architects, however, we applied our skills to move uidly between
the full-scale of the parks, which we marked with the paper bubble narraves,
and the scale of paper representaons that will help them tell disnctly spaal
stories. Learning from, rather than applying formulaically, methodologies devel-
oped by Human Computer Interaction, the social sciences, and Event Art may
suggest eecve principles by which architects could give their clients and their
constuencies’ voices through the power of spaal stories.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
The authors would like to thank CLIMB, desigNYC, youarethecity, New York City
Park Partners, and our adviser Alfred Zollinger for this collaboraon. We are also
grateful for volunteer designers who contributed their me and talent: Catherine
Cieslewicz, Carolina Cohen Freue, Claire Davenport, Dan Dobson, Colin Embrey,
Vanessa Espaillat, Marisa Ferrara, Sagi Golan, Nancy Kim, Kevin Lê, Adrienne
Milner, Floren Clare Poliseo, Natalie Sippel, and Krisn Washco.
4
Figure 4: Diagram of future cohor ts. Graphic design
by Catherine Cieslewicz.
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ENDNOTES
1. The foundi ng of Architecture for Humanit y in 1999 and it s
meteori c growth, as well as its two Des ign Like You Give a
Damn bo oks, is but on e high-pro le story of the recent move -
ment toward s civic enga gement in architecture and desig n. A
combinaon of case studies, graphically represented stascs
and IKEA-style how-to diagr ams, the books describe a world in
which ingenuity, some fundraising and design/build commit-
ments are enou gh to change so ciety.
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Chapter
In 1987, I went to a conference on a rather remote farm in a rather remote corner of Finland. Here, most of the Scandinavian information systems and human-computer interaction community was gathered among Finnish lakes and smoke saunas. I had recently finished my Ph.D. thesis, which would later be published internationally (Bødker, 1991). This thesis helped set the scene for what came to be known as second-generation human-computer interaction (HCI). I came to this topic with a background in early Scandinavian participatory design. My sources of theoretical inspiration were, among others, Leont'ev, whose works I had learned about from Danish colleagues in psychology - Henrik Poulsen, Jens Mammen, Klaus Bærentsen, Mariane Hedegaard, and others. Other sources included the recently published books of Winograd and Flores (1986), and Dreyfus and Dreyfus (1986), which served as vehicles for a joint study circle between psychology and computer science. In two essays (Bannon & Bødker, 1991; Bertelsen & Bødker, 2002a), we summarized the state of our concerns at the time: Many of the early advanced user interfaces assumed that the users were the designers themselves, and accordingly built on an assumption of a generic user, without concern for qualifications, work environment, division of work, and so on In validating findings and designs, there was a heavy focus on novice users, whereas everyday use by experienced users and concerns for the development of expertise were hardly addressed. Detailed task analysis was seen as the starting point for most user interface design, whereas much of the Scandinavian research had pointed out how limited explicit task descriptions were for capturing actual actions and conditions for these in use (Ehn & Kyng, 1984). The idealized models created through task analysis failed to capture the complexity and contingency of real-life action. […]
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Diagram of future cohorts Graphic design by Catherine Cieslewicz. BIBLIOGRAPHY Bodker, Susanne Past Experiences and Recent Challenges in Participatory Design Research
Figure 4: Diagram of future cohorts. Graphic design by Catherine Cieslewicz. BIBLIOGRAPHY Bodker, Susanne. " Past Experiences and Recent Challenges in Participatory Design Research. " In Learning and Expanding with Activity Theory, edited by Annalisa Sannino, Harry Daniels, and Kris Gutierrez, 274-285. New York: Cambridge University Press, 2009.