Mini-Parks within the City

In the Mt. Vernon area around the Washington Monument, Peabody Institute and the United Methodist Church, there are a series of parks that surround the Monument. In this area North Charles Street splits into 2 different lanes from Centre Street to Madison Avenue. These streets go around two parks and the Washington Monument in a circular pattern. Personally, I have always wanted to live in this area of the city, because of the beauty of well kept older buildings and cobblestone. I also love the fact that in the spring as you walk or drive down North Charles Street, when the Cherry Blossom trees are in full bloom you can see how great this city once was and how much pride they have in this beautiful area. Many people in this area are always taking advantage of the parks by either walking their dogs, resting on a bench, reading, eating at the café tables provided, relaxing on the lawn or listening to the students play music at the Peabody Institute.

This area should be thought of as an Open Space with in the city that keeps people coming back for more. Not only does it create a space for those who need green space for animals, but it creates a luxury for those who live near by to still enjoy green areas without having to tend to them themselves. I walk my dog 4 times in one park and occasionally bring my dog to the ‘dog park’ across the street from the Peabody Conservatory, where many of the other dog owners let their dogs off of the leash and mingle with others. This area is where many strangers meet with something in common. Even though many of us may not have personal things in common, one thing that ties us together is our dogs. Within this park I see dogs of all colors, shapes and sizes. My dog is a slender and very shy, Chihuahua and Poodle Mix. She seems to favor dogs that are not aggressive and announces that she is there by sniffing and sometimes even licking people’s legs as they walk by.

In these parks I see many Johns Hopkins students. Many of them live in the Waterloo Place apartments next to the Peabody Institute and take the John’s Hopkins shuttle to the Homewood Campus. A block away on Madison Avenue and St. Paul Street, is Red Emma’s, a book and coffee shop that houses many activist and social meetings. The Mt. Vernon park area is where many people of different backgrounds and ideas meet to enjoy the green open space. I’ve met homeless, Johns Hopkins students, Young Professionals, University of Baltimore Students, Activists, MICA students and dog owners in these parks. In a way it brings people together from different backgrounds because we all enjoy the are in which is not developed but always busy with activity, a place to call there own for only a few hours at a time with no obligation or commitment.

Something the Scale of the Universe

The arsenal of exclusion has become more effective in Baltimore and is practiced more widely throughout the city than the arsenal of inclusion. Many of the areas in which inclusive tactics are implemented only apply to a small and very specific group of people, so that the arsenal of inclusion often falls into the vocabulary of exclusion. Examples of this are found in all of the tourist districts that line the edges of Baltimore’s Downtown waterfront, specifically East Inner Harbor between Fells Point and the Inner Harbor. This area has plenty of stores, plenty of attractions and inclusive amenities, Whole Foods, a Movie Theater, Verizon Wireless, CVS, Little Italy, which is just next door, several bars and restaurants. All of these stores and locations have different purposes and will attract a wide variety of customers, however Baltimore’s limited public transportation doesn’t offer enough access to these stores. As a result these streets are often found empty and the stores even emptier. This is a pathetic sight, and acknowledges Baltimore’s total disjunction and failure to create a steady flow of movement throughout the city. There are a few buses that go by East Inner Harbor, but a rising neighborhood with a movie theater, a Haagen-Dazs Ice cream store, several clothing stores and several top rated restaurants should be properly equipped to provide access to its neighboring communities if for no better reason but to boost sales. All of these stores can be found within a similar proximity to each other in New York City where they are never found to be empty. I have personally witnessed the crowds of people who have flocked to their shelves on many occasions, and greatly due to the excellent public transportation that NYC has given them. There is even a ferry that will take you from Manhattan across the East River just to go to Ikea, just to shop, public transportation purely for the consumer. Granted NYC has an exponentially greater population than Baltimore, however this discrepancy should not have to excuse Baltimore from having successful urban movement. The entire city is stagnant for the most part, and if there is movement it happens on these carefully refined circuits that people have mapped over the years and just loop around on. There are smaller cities than NYC, similar to Baltimore that have well developed public transportation systems and keep their citizens at a flow, constantly moving through the streets, generating energy. Baltimore has this potential, we have all seen the crowds at Lexington Market and even the Inner Harbor just a few blocks away from East Inner Harbor. The people exist they just have no easy way to get there. East Inner Harbor is just one example. Most of the city is not easily accessible to everyone and perhaps its also not even desirable to go to but a city must have a healthy skeleton in order to have a healthy body, and this involves providing access to all equally everywhere.
Respectfully there are wonderful walking paths in the Inner Harbor that allow people to walk from Federal Hill all the way to Fells Point and through East Inner Harbor, which is a fairly inclusive tactic and creates for a pleasant open city atmosphere along the waterfront. A tourist could have a wonderful walk around the bay, and would never have the incentive or the need to wander inward to East or West Baltimore, so while the bridges and walkways are designed to allow people to maneuver around the city, they are really keeping people from the city and ensuring their stay by the water. So I can hardly say that all of the bridges, benches, pathways, stores and restaurants that make the waterfront so wonderful to be in are a part of the arsenal of inclusion because they are actually reinforcing a neglect for the wrest of the city. I suppose the idea was that the city would turn the profit made from the Inner Harbor toward the redevelopment of West and East Baltimore, creating a better means of public transportation for the entire city to unify. But right now Baltimore feels more like a mush of small towns, each choking each other for air, some buttered with money, others dry and parched for any. Its hard for me to recognize any aspect of the open city or even feel the cosmopolitan magic that such a city should be able to offer when there is so much separation and distance between everyone.
When I am riding down streets on my bike I can very easily tell where neighborhoods begin and end because people stay in their neighborhoods and why would they need to go anywhere, if everything they need is right there. It is the lack of transportation and also the lack of a generated interest or motivation that would inspire residents to become commuters, but maybe I mean consumers. I suppose if I were to see an equal integration of black and white people, of residents and tourists, of insiders and outsiders, my pessimism about the arsenal of inclusion currently being implemented would change. There are simply two different cities in Baltimore, and I think that the average West or East Baltimorian who represents one of these cities has no desire to shop in the Inner Harbor of the other city. I shouldn’t jump to any conclusions, however it’s a difficult puzzle to solve, what necessitates an interest or even a curiosity to urge one to venture beyond the borders of ones neighborhood? The nicely developed waterfront area is likely to be just as unattractive a destination to the West or East Baltimorian as West or East Baltimore is as unattractive a destination to frequenters of the waterfront area. It would be nice to be able to integrate the two different areas of Baltimore together in order to unite everyone, the residential with the commercial. But is this necessary, does anyone really want that? Unfortunately a better public transportation system may not solve the problem. Each of us are studying the other, taking advantage of the other, staring at the other, growing further and further apart from each other. Where is the real Baltimore? What really constitutes a Baltimorian? Can any of us call ourselves Baltimorians?
A well developed street should be one continuous evolution of different residences and storefronts from one neighborhood to another with a cyclical progression of the similar and dissimilar interests and landmarks, which weave in and out of each neighborhood reoccurring spontaneously with relational characteristics that evolve parallel to the blocks specific form and function, there must be frequent and infrequent sets of differences that are common throughout the entire passage of the street so that neighborhoods transcend their borders and extend into each other. The street must also be beautiful in however the community defines the word. All of this must be accomplished but none of this must be planned, it must happen naturally, that is essential, otherwise its just another form of generic gentrification.
Broadway for example, which ends at Fells Point and runs straight up to North Avenue, is a poor example of the well-developed street that I have just described. Broadway varies in its function and form drastically from block to block with no cross dissolve between its neighborhoods. Neighborhoods should transition from one another in between blocks in order to increase the mixing of strangers. Neighborhoods should not end and begin with the ends and beginnings of new blocks, because then the road becomes a wall, invisible but much more distinct than a cross dissolve in the middle of a block where different ethnicities, age groups, income rates and interests can be blended together to create a more subtle transition from one neighborhood to the next. A neighborhood should slowly fade into its surrounding neighborhoods. From Broadway and North Avenue to Broadway and Monument Street blocks are littered with abandonment and poverty, a wealth of potential for beautiful residences. However just south of Monument Street the smoothly paved road turns into the old historical brick road that can also be found in Fells Point. These bricks indicate that you have entered the Johns Hopkins Campus, a small but very distinct detail especially for bikers, who literally feel the difference beneath their wheels. With this brick road comes a nice sidewalk with well-groomed trees and grass, security, more people, more eyes on the street, and most of all more money. There is an interesting connection between this maintained moment of history, the bricks, and then the increase of wealth and those specific people on the streets. There are literally more people on the sidewalks where the brick road begins, this is obviously due to the fact that the brick road is on a college campus, but it cannot be denied that something about history attracts people, whether it’s the stories, the authenticity of an extinct craft, some kind of nostalgia, or even just an aesthetic appeal. The tourist is especially attracted to this sense of history. The tourist will attempt to buy the old city like it were an object, take a picture of it and bring it home to hang on the wall. The old city has been polished, renovated and marketed in order to convey and imbue that sense of authenticity of old age and of history as part of a marketing scheme for the consumerist market. “The city historically constructed is no longer lived and is no longer understood practically. It is only an object of cultural consumption for tourists, for a estheticism, acid for spectacles and the picturesque.” (148, Lefebvre)
But I believe in history. I believe that history is a great asset to the arsenal of inclusion. For I know that it is the history and perhaps in Baltimore it is the devastating ruin of its history, the conglomerate of crumbling buildings heaped together, the mass of old abandoned factories, the endless rows of bricked up desolation, the clutter of caving in rooftops, the barrage of broken windows, the onslaught of empty storefronts that has attracted me and many of my art school piers to search and explore the city. I crave this sense of history, this nostalgia, this world of forgotten people, of memories lost. I cannot say that there is a strong open city environment in these forgotten areas otherwise they would not be forgotten, however, slowly I think people, specifically artists are investigating, searching and discovering these long forgotten locations and putting them back to use, bringing new life, teaming with parties and music, drinking and love, art and galleries, film and food, gardens and community that such is a great festival, a bonfire in the night for all to gather around, a utopia amidst the apocalyptic rubble of our past. There is an open city to be found within us, the birth of new markets and homes and venues and restaurants, “We should take charge of the excesses and create ‘something’ to the scale of the universe.” (149, Lefebvre)

An Affiliate of Both Arsenals

One of Baltimore’s historical hotspots is located off of I-83, connecting with the Jones Falls Expressway and spanning over 745 acres.[1] It is an area of Baltimore that I frequent and relish in the uniqueness of its offerings. It has many draws ranging from the winding lakeside roads, to a zoo & conservatory amid profusions of various athletic outlets. The region is accessible by foot, car, bike, and could probably accommodate a pontoon plane landing.

Druid Hill Park offers clean air in a city where asthma plagues its residents and environmentalist conduct studies on the alarming quality of our air. I often feel moved in the park space; inspired and able to conceive ideas for a daunting list of art projects that awaits me.

This is a park where both the arsenal of inclusion and exclusion are applicable. The shear scale of the land is inviting on a gorgeous afternoon when people are out jogging around the lake, walking their pets or cruising around in their cars. However one memorable evening on my first outing north of Bolton Hill, I was turned back from my search of an alluring lakeside running-route. A middle-aged lady confronted me on Park Avenue and explained that Druid Hill Lake was a bad place to be after dark. Apparently it was full of nefarious individuals and drug dealings. Considering that the sun was nearly touching the horizon, I took her advice and abandoned the idea for the next couple of months.

Now having experienced the park on a number of levels I feel that it is more in line with the arsenal of inclusion. These crime waves are linked to the open area. The proximity of interactive spaces in which people occupy does something to delineate the perceived security of that region. In a city like Baltimore, crime is prevalent and can be realized in a large setting with many recesses for hiding or escaping the authorities under the cover of darkness. The same methods of accessibility can be outlets for unlawful behavior. Many people will avoid the area at night for this vey reason. I’ve witnessed chains of people precariously off-roading on their five-speeders throughout the lawns and running paths. I cringe at the thought of them loosing control and causing harm to themselves or others.

Conversely what a venue during the day! I’ve taken part in everything from the Caribbean Carnival, to workout classes and football matches. The park exercises key principals of open city philosophy. I personally felt integrated when I join in a game of tennis and have observed a diverse group of people who approach one another with genuine altruism. They swim in the inexpensive public pool and shoot hoops together on a level that transcends social class. Most of these recreational outlets are free, which advances these transcendental connections. Not dissimilar from the Iris Marion Young ideal, that acknowledges differences among social groups to counteract oppression. Druid Hill is seemingly tolerant and reassuring that all groups of people can coexist in a public space and feel empowered, not discriminated against.

The poet John Clare once said, “Citys … are nothing less than over grown prisons that shut out the world and all of its beauties.”[2] Druid Hill Park is a symbolic response against this very mineshaft outlook. What could be more beautiful than a space that exercises creativity, recreation and diversity on a daily basis. The park, as an extension of the city is very open and gives you a beautiful vantage point into its other avenues and districts. Baltimore is an open book atop the ridge off of 83. One becomes aware of this very large green space existing in an urban environment and is compelled to explore the rest of the city with candor.

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[1] Examiner.com, Druid Hill Park, West Baltimore Arts Examiner, http://www.examiner.com/x-20610-West-Baltimore-Arts-Examiner~y2009m9d10-Druid-Hill-Park, (Accessed September 23, 2009).

[2] Braungart, Michael and William McDonough, Cradle to Cradle, (New York: North Point Press, 2002), 20.

As I was thinking about the open city and its explorative qualities, I originally thought of Wyman Park, a place that I became well acquainted with over the summer. I accepted a job offer that involved me living in Hampden for a month, which was quite an experience in itself, and walking this woman's dog every day in the park. The house was on 34th, just a couple of blocks away from the Avenue, and sharing the same block as the popular restaurant Rocket to Venus which was frequented by what seemed like alternative youth. In many ways the block felt like what Jacobs's was encouraging in "Sidewalks: Safety." The shops and attractions close by were open late, people were always out on the streets, and my temporary neighbors habitually occupied their stoops.  Actually, it seemed like they never left it at any time during the day. The sidewalks were both watched and well trafficked. I think that being practically the stranger that I was deterred me from enjoying Hampden as an open city. There is also a "commonness," which Young mentions, of the area, not agreeable with city life even though its "borders are open," because it identifies with the ideal of community. Even the attractions of the town were specific, directed at a target audience. For most days of the week, I'd encounter locals, and not visitors. The park, however, had an equal share of both. After awhile, I felt like I had come to see the park as some of the permanent inhabitants of the area would, through my common use of it. But when I looked up "Wyman Park," I came to the community website and it said: 

"Urban living in a park-like setting."

It was interesting seeing this after reading the Lefebvre's article, in which he argues against the "right to nature," and here is an urban neighborhood promoting just that. "Nature enters into exchange value and commodities to be bought and sold. This 'naturality' is destroyed by institutionally organized leisure pursuits." The website goes on to list:

"What makes the Wyman Park neighborhood unique?

The Park - Our neighborhood is bordered along one side by the open spaces of Wyman Park, a great place to walk or play with your kids or dogs.

The Trees - There are numerous, large trees throughout the neighborhood.

The Location - Walking distance to the Rotunda shopping center; restaurants and shops that line "The Avenue" in nearby Hampden; and Johns Hopkins Homewood campus.

The Houses - Attractive, well-built mostly brick rowhouses from the turn of the century through the early 1940s.

The People - Family-friendly with neighbors of all ages of varied professions and interests. "

Now it is directly appealing to community, but it is in the city. I realized that I hadn't given much thought to the neighborhood that identifies itself with the park, and only the park itself. The place described on the website resembles a private, gated community. For instance, the houses are described uniformly, and the location delineates the neighborhood from the rest of the city. In reality, it inherently comes in contact with all different parts of the city. My personal experiences in the park have informed me that it has varied uses, is easily accessible from many streets, and it's indiscriminatingly public. Though the Wyman Park neighborhood may be exclusive, their reign stops when it comes to the open access park. During morning dog walks, I'd see people taking the shortcut to work (in sneakers and business suits), joggers, sports teams, and of course the regular dog lovers convening on the field. People would normally come up and talk to me when I had the dog with me. There was this nice spot at the foot of a small waterfall, where the water was deeper. It was off the path, and strewn with garbage, empty forties and plastic bags. There's a rope swing tied to a tree, and the bordering cement walls, because it was by a street, are covered in graffiti. At night, though, the atmosphere changes. I remember going there one night with a friend and sitting by the one lamp post that had burnt out, seeing the homeless guys on the benches, a wanderer here and there. After awhile some kids came and sat on the bench across from ours. We called them over and ended up talking for awhile. This reminded me of Benjamin's description of Naples when the city goes to sleep, and entertainment can be found anywhere. Wyman park has aspects that fulfill Young's proposition of the normative city life, as a significant public space. There, "persons and groups interact within a space they all experience themselves as belonging to, but without those interactions dissolving into unity of commonness." I especially like the part of the park that runs into the Charles Village area on University Boulevard, which contrasts with the Hampden community space on the other side. Interaction occurs in the park because of the "multiuse differentiation of social space" that everyone has access to. I remember another instance, while I was taking my regular route through the park. It was the day after a storm, and the paths were a little rough. I noticed a large, spraypainted "X" on the ground which for some reason convinced me to look up. A large branch from an adjacent tree had been knocked awry and was hanging by a thread directly above. 

I recently mapped some of my experiences in Baltimore, and in doing so, noticed a distinctly north-south trend to my travels. On my map, I saw that the furthest west or east I had been was Highlandtown, which also happens to be the place that I most associate with the mixed-use way of urban living that is missing from my neighborhood of Bolton Hill.

This stretch of Eastern Avenue is past Inner Harbor and Patterson Park, immediately preceding Johns Hopkins Bayview campus. Being placed between these two 'destinations' of sorts undoubtedly adds to the traffic in the area, both in pedestrian and vehicular forms. Granted, this point of view partially comes from my experience of driving through it to get to Johns Hopkins, but I seem to notice something new each time I drive through, which makes the area enticing to visit on its own. Not only is Highlandtown mixed-use, but it is mixed-ethnicity. Home to Polish, Greek, and Latino subcultures, the area is extremely diverse, and a place where others come to experience and understand some of this diversity. The multitude of ethnicities also increases the density of the area as so many groups have a place in such a small space. Though, as you move east it moves from Latino signage to Polish and then Greek, the span of 10 or so blocks allows each group to mix, even if it is only on the sidewalks.

The abundance of stores and restaurants makes this small neighborhood a very well-used and well-watched part of the city. The streets are constantly being watched by pedestrians and drivers alike, as the area is fairly inaccessible via highway (when coming from the north). This contributes to its feeling of openness because there is enough going on that even if someone feels like they don’t belong, they can easily blend in and experience the area by walking down the street and observing the vitality of the street life, especially in comparison to areas like Bolton Hill.

This city space seems to be resisting what Bill Bishop talked about in “The Big Sort,” when he talked about people self-sorting into communities based on how they look and live. Perhaps the inhabitants of Highlandtown are in similar socio-economic ranges, but the area experiences many different walks of life during the day, which is fascinating. As Jane Jacobs explains in “The Uses of Sidewalks: Safety,” “some of the safest sidewalks in New York City…are those along which poor people or minority groups live.”

Overall, I think having more spaces like this in the city of Baltimore would do well in opening up the city, as it would force people to travel through various parts to get to more and more pockets of density as they popped up and expanded.

The Baltimore Convention Center: Open Tourism/Open City?

A great paradox that I think commonly reveals itself in today’s American cities is the re-use and acquisition of its downtown space, the Baltimore Inner Harbor being a great example.   Is the industrial center, what once used to be our cities’ prime resource for a fruitful economy, now just left to be a wasteland for our tourists and passive weekend suburbanites? How exactly “open” are such centers in the Inner Harbor towards their audience?  Which systems address the actual inhabitants of the city, and which systems only attract counterparts from the outside?  The center I have in mind is Baltimore’s Convention Center, also conveniently located in the Inner Harbor.  I argue that the Convention Center could perhaps be best example with the best intentions as the open city; however, I can also claim that Baltimore’s Convention Center also deters local residents away.  As Henri Lefebvre retrospectively states, “The city historically constructed is no longer lived and is no longer understood practically.  It is only an object of cultural consumption for tourists, for aestheticism, avid for spectacles and the picturesque” (Lefebvre 148). 

The Convention Center, which mostly is associated with tourism is, arguably, a great city resource for attracting new visitors, gaining new vacationer revenue, as well the hopeful potential for improving the city’s reputation.  I argue that Baltimore’s Convention Center does a considerate job in “opening” the city to the potential alien groups meeting each other, especially ones that are not indigenous to the area.  For example, a Baltimore Comic-Con Convention brings together people with similar interests in comic books and its characters, where nostalgic fans gather from all parts of the country.  The particular time and place specificity of the convention center bring common-interest groups together in a city that otherwise wouldn’t have met.  These people also get the opportunity to engage in a city that they are most likely not familiar with, as well as interact with other city-dwellers at that particular time and place.

Baltimore’s patterning of visitors also greatly depends on the particular waves of scheduled interests that can occur simultaneously.  An example would be from the very picture I included, taken of Baltimore Convention Center captured with the back headshot of a young boy, obviously an Orioles fan who is heading to the harbor after a Baltimore/Red Sox game.  Point being said, interactions have the opportunity to occur in the embedded scheduling of events as good examples of the open city.  The wandering convention goer has the window of opportunity to meet with the strolling Orioles fan.   

On the flip side, Baltimore’s Convention Center can close off what is arguably “the city,” to an exclusionary Disneyland zone that only separates what is open to only tourists from the locals that reside there.  The events at the Baltimore Convention Center only facilitates pre-paid and forecasted guests that plan to meet and use its space, however, there is no opportunity for any similar interaction in this closed group with the outside of it’s walls.   What comes to question is: How many of these convention center tourists only see the interiors of their hotels and their meeting rooms? Or, how many actually go beyond the invisible walls of the Inner Harbor’s tourist zones?  Is local-tourist interaction only dependant on the ambitiousness of its visitors? Baltimore’s harbor is very exclusive to who can stroll on its sidewalks, where Baltimore’s Inner Harbor police station their officers to ward off the “wandering bum” or the “hobo.”  Is the Inner Harbor, with the Baltimore’s Convention Center included, completely separate from the “true Baltimore city?”  The alien/native interaction may be questionable when it comes to analyzing where the convention goer goes after his events, but perhaps that really depends on the decisions of the attendee.  I believe that the potential still exists.  I contend that although Baltimore’s Convention Center may be at the heart of Baltimore’s deceiving center, the overall potential for its visitors make Baltimore’s Convention Center an inclusionary, open city example.

Arsenal of Inclusion: Bike Lanes and Jaywalking

Bike Lanes & Jaywalking: Two complementary methods of opening the city, specifically city streets.

One of the most oppressing features of a contemporary city are streets. These “veins” of the city offer the influx and outflux of industrial materials, commercial processes and individual persons. Streets are both the path and the place of city life. However, the monopolization of city streets by personal vehicles (cars) causes them to be incredibly exclusive to anyone not in a car… perhaps even to those experiencing the street in a car, as they navigate the city in isolated compartments on wheels. However, in the fight to open our city streets, bike lanes fit perfectly into our arsenal of inclusion. Bike lanes urge drivers to acknowledge the right of cyclists on the street. While riding bikes in the street provides the same disruption of driving-as-usual, bike lanes cause drivers to be aware of the space for cyclists, even when cyclists are absent from the road, changing the dynamic of city streets.

Drivers in an American city must obey traffic laws. The concern of the driver is to reach a point B through navigating an obstacle course of symbols which signify the rules/laws of the road. (ex: stop signs, traffic lights, etc) These laws are dictated by an array of symbols and markings painted on the street he drives upon, posted before the roads he may cross. A driver must heed these symbols, and subject his choices to them. Bike lanes are another form of legal symbol, and drivers will more readily heed the dictation of a sign than the existence of a cyclist on the road.

Also, Jaywalking is a method of opening the city. Jaywalking is a term originating in the early 20^th century. It derives from the slang term ‘jay,’ which was commonly used in the Midwest to describe someone from a rural area who is somewhat stupid and unaware, especially in the context of a city. (Wikipedia) So, jaywalking is a derogatory term aimed to those who stand in the right of way of motor vehicles. Jaywalking, as legally defined, is an illegal act consisting of crossing the street either a) not at a cross-walk, or b) not when the walking signal is on at a cross-walk. Defining the legality of crossing the street seems to me an excessive form of control, but it has worked well to condition pedestrian life, more so in a suburb like Towson than a city like Baltimore. However, unless you are engaging in some other illegal act, it is highly unlikely that you will be arrested for jaywalking.

There seems to be a general disregard for crosswalks in Baltimore. Growing up here, I recall driving with my mother, and her aghast face at people who had half crossed the street, standing on the yellow lines waiting for the next wave of traffic to pass. But these disregards cause drivers to be more aware of their vehicles. Streets, especially during rush hours, can serve as moving walls to the pedestrian, making a more efficient route unattainable. This is why a responsible disregard for the prohibitions of jaywalking serves to “open” the city, making the streets once again accessible by foot and not just by car, opening new routes of navigation to the city-dweller.

When one jaywalks, not just along a crosswalk, but in the middle of a street, one reclaims the space delineated by a street as open space. One breaks the law of a sidewalk, the dictatorial direction imposed on the pedestrian. One begins to reclaim the power of one’s own two feet, inscribing a path upon any surface of the city and effectively subverting the dominion of crosswalks and cars. TAKE BACK THE STREETS - ON A BIKE OR ON YOUR FEET!