I’m part of an architecture class at OSU studying public space in Columbus and, eventually, Rome. It’s a comparative class, obviously, and right now we’re just getting started. I’m really new at thinking about space in both concrete and theoretical perspectives, which is odd since I both live in and create space on a daily basis. My work has mostly been directed at social institutions or politics in the abstract, though, so my recent forays into concrete spaces is new and exciting, but somewhat difficult for me to grasp at times.
Anyway, our first assignment was to follow a time-based continuum and simply walk for an hour. The only guidelines I had were to “document [the walk] by any means necessary,” not to focus on a particular destination, and to follow a few guiding questions:
1) What factors determine how far one walks in an hour?
2) How can you measure specific segments of the path?
3) What are the determinants of your journey?
4) How can the data gathered be visually or conceptually mapped to record your experience?
As I’ve already said, I have been struggling with the conceptual transformation of public space into something on paper. But some interesting themes emerged on my walk. I gave myself a little bit more than an hour, actually, so I could make up for all of the pauses during which I was taking photographs, so I actually walked for an hour and twenty minutes. I’ll eventually be creating a website that documents this journey, and I’ll hopefully keep adding to it as I continue to explore Columbus. So I won’t detail everything here, I’ll just discuss a few themes.
First, my route (in dry, directional terms):
I began my walk at 1:18 pm when I got off the #4 bus at Summit and 7th. I walked South toward 5th, where I made a left. I was officially on the Northernmost border of the Columbus neighborhood, the Italian Village. I headed East on 5th until I approached the railroad tracks, so I turned into the parking lot of 345 5th Avenue and walked parallel to the tracks outside of the private grounds of the Clark Grave Vault property. I exited the parking lot onto 4th Avenue and walked West until I turned South on Summit. West on 3rd, South on High, East on 2nd, South on Hamlet. On Hamlet I discovered that the Columbus Italian Festival was going on, so I continued going South until I hit the festival. After some roaming in that area (between Warren and I – 670) I ended my walk at High Street and Warren.
The overwhelming theme from my walk was this: security and poverty seem to run in opposite directions.
Near 5th Avenue, I encountered strings of vacant homes, numerous buildings with boarded up windows which remained in use (including the Spore Infoshop where I spend some time, occasionally volunteer, and engage in lots of good theoretical discussions about anarchism, Continental philosophy, and Marxism… good stuff). The area was mostly devoid of people outside, children playing, or neighbors conversing. The people I did see walking around tended to be the homeless or the poor, if clothing, the amount of times I was asked for money, or the amount of personal belongings being carried were any indication of social status. But around 3rd and 2nd Avenues I started noticing a shift. Vacant homes next to crisply up-kept, well manicured homes. By the time I turned onto Hamlet I was in gentrified country without a doubt.
The richer the area got, the more signs of securitization I saw, until I encountered a huge police presence at the edges of the Italian Festival. I’m talking dozens of cops, with handfuls at each entrance along with a number of police cars cruising by at regular intervals. Just six blocks North I never saw an officer. In between, the signs of security manifested quite literally on more and more lawns as I headed South – security companies advertise, to more audiences than one, with little lawn signs. The neighborhood gradually comes to read, “Don’t fuck with us, capice?”
The most stark moment of securitized space came for me when I was walking along Hamlet, a public street, until all of a sudden I could do so no longer. I was being charged a $5 admission fee. To keep walking. On the street. Seriously. I didn’t have any cash on me, so I couldn’t enter. Even though they were charging for food, charging for raffle tickets, charging to play bocce, charging for beer, and selling god knows what else, they were also charging me to merely enter the space. I had traveled from the highly politicized space of poverty (5th and 4th Avenues) to the highly biopoliticized space of the bourgeois middle class. My body was proscribed a monetary value, $5, that seemed sufficiently low enough not to draw the ire of the college-educated, BMW-driving crowd that is the target of such festivals, but also sufficiently high enough that it ensured that certain undesirables couldn’t get in. A line was drawn in the sand, space marked out by orange fencing.
This inversion of the space of exception, where the space marked by exception is meant to keep the undesirables out rather than in, is an area of urban dynamics that Agamben leaves untouched. He hints at it, in Means Without End: Notes on Politics:
“…an apparently anodyne place (such as the Hotel Arcade near the Paris airport) delimits instead a space in which, for all intents and purposes, the normal rule of law is suspended and in which the fact that atrocities may or may not be committed does not depend on the law but rather on the civility and ethical sense of the police that act temporarily as sovereign… In this sense, even certain outskirts of the great postindustrial cities as well as the gated communities of the United States are beginning today to look like camps, in which naked life and political life, at least in determinate moments, enter a zone of absolute indeterminacy.” (p. 41)
This is because our notions of public and private space are both logically founded upon the sovereignty proper to the law of property. Either the space is privately owned and therefore controlled by a very obvious sovereign – the landowner – or the space is publicly owned and therefore administered by a slightly more diffuse set of sovereigns – public officials. This means any public space falls to the arbitrary sovereignty of the police, thereby becoming biopolitical space where bare, naked life meets the brute force of the police (not, though, the law).