would-be P Diddy employees go urban exploring

I work PR for an organization based on urban exploration, and we've received numerous "press requests" over the years.

One of the more non-relevant ones we've recently received was a request from a producer of I Want to Work for Diddy (season 2). I'd seen a few episodes of this show when the request was made, and I had a difficult time imagining how supplying this reality show with a space would be good PR for my organization. Yes, many of our "press requests" are actually requests for our free service of "location scounting" (as if).

So when I saw contestants running through a dark tunnel during a commercial for the show, I knew that this was the segment that we had been called about.

The segment lasted less than five on-air minutes. Each contestant ran through dark tunnels until they found a note from Diddy. This action supposedly showed Diddy each person's commitment and ability to get through a "scary situation".

It was pretty stupid, and I'm glad we didn't participate.

I'm not including hyperlinks in this blog post. You'll have to Google "I Want to Work for Diddy" to find information on the show.

Time Out New York carries the flashlight

Ars Subterranea was included in Time Out New York's "Extreme issue" a couple of issues ago. Billie Cohen from TONY, who wrote the first significant piece about Ars Subterranea in 2002, accompanied us on a daytime exploration. Since TONY is a NYC-based publication, the site had to be within the City's five boroughs.

Time Out New York / Issue 659 : May 14–20, 2008

Extreme

We’re thrilled for you

Superheroes aren’t the only ones who can leap tall buildings, see in the dark or pummel evil opponents named Drunkin Janitur. In NYC, anyone can—even us.


Illustration: Thomas Pitilli (appearing in TONY).

Urban spelunking

View extreme photos of urban spelunking (Photos Cohen took of the exploration.)

I’m shining a flashlight down a long, dark tunnel. The beam settles on a staircase at the opposite end, seemingly a million miles away. Everything else is hidden in blackness, except for the dust swirling in front of me. “This is how horror movies start,” I say.

The group behind me laughs in polite acknowledgment of the newbie’s jitters. “We usually let the person who’s never done this go first,” my guide, Julia Solis, had said, as if she were giving me a Christmas present.

But it’s a gift I asked for. In this city, as in many others around the world, brave—and, some would argue, stupid—cadres of people climb, shimmy, tiptoe and probe through abandoned buildings, forgotten tunnels and forsaken ruins. They call themselves “urban explorers.” The ones I’ve sought out run a local arts organization called Ars Subterranea (arssubterranea.org), which (legally) presents exhibitions and events in deserted gems such as the old Long Island Railroad tunnel under Atlantic Avenue and the Bronx Borough Courthouse. “Ars Subterranea preserves forgotten architectural relics through creating experiences with sites or locations,” explains Gayle Snible, an explorer who also serves as the group’s publicity director.

Today we’re scouting a site for documentation purposes, and I am sworn to secrecy about the location to protect its integrity. What I can reveal is that it’s a complex of early-20th-century buildings. They are stately, with columned entries, brick facades and big windows, many sealed with cinder blocks. Solis warns me to be careful of the floors; often they are not solid. These, however, are—they’re just covered with layers of brick dust, debris and something that looks suspiciously like asbestos.

Dangers aside, the decay is at once haunting and elegant. “I have a preference for hospitals,” says Solis, Ars Subterranea’s founder. “If you want to see what it means to be human, they’re the best places. You can go to a museum, but in a hospital there’s nothing between you and reality.”

The complex we’re exploring today wasn’t that kind of institution, but we still see rusted bed frames and other evidence of past lives: in the basement, piles of discarded office chairs; in the long dormitory rooms, eroded radiator covers; in one cubby, small plastic football figures; and in a closet, shelves labeled DRESSING TRAYS and MORGUE PACK.

When I emerge from the closet, I don’t see anyone else. I beat back an eruption of terror, certain I’m going to get picked off by some dude from Hostel. But then I hear the rustling footsteps of my crew, each caught up in their own discoveries. One is awed by unbroken lightbulbs, Julia is drawn to staircases, and I find I have a thing for slivers of light shining through very dark spaces. As I build courage throughout the day, I turn off my flashlight to see where cracked walls, broken windows and roof holes let the sun sneak through.

When we finally emerge, I can’t believe it’s still daylight. The safety of noon hadn’t been tangible in the musty blackness inside, but now I hear kids playing ball at a nearby field and church bells ringing somewhere. I make a mental note about the fickleness of perception. Safe in the bright day, I feel pleased with myself, even a bit cocky. I can’t wait to go into the dark again. Although next time, I might bring a bigger flashlight. — Billie Cohen

----------------
-- and a couple of photos I took during our visit:

Return to the Bronx County Courthouse

This last week, I had the opportunity to serve jury duty in the South Bronx. During lunch hour, I walked across town to the Bronx Borough Courthouse, the site of last April's Ars Subterranea event The House of the Marble Mistress. (Truth be told, I was partially visiting the Courthouse and partially frequenting the Caribbean and Soul Food restaurant across the street from it.)

What a difference a year makes; the front entrance wasn't even visible due to the large green fencing and the construction going on in the 'hood. Abandoned since 1978, there are finally plans for the grand building; according to New York 1 News, a charter school will open at the site in September. New (since April) "For Rent" signs were still on the building's exterior on Tuesday, but I hope that this news is accurate. The owner told Ars Subterranea last year that the desired tenant was a school or library (not retail), and it seems like this wish will become reality.

Below is a video that Gothamist.com ran of Ars Subterranea's House of the Marble Mistress event:



There are also a few pictures on my Flickr.

Ars Subterranea at Anthology Film Archives (NYC) on March 24!

Ars Subterranea has several projects planned for 2008, and the first one will be a night at the cinema. We'll have the opportunity to view Tales from the Sanatorium, a graphic novel in-progress. Ars Sub Founder/Executive Director Julia Solis will co-present the evening and show us previously unseen work. Other works both old (Met State is a must see) and new (Julia's collaboration with Opacity.us's Tom Kirsch) will be shown. Co-presenter Ross Lipman will also be on hand to present The Disembodied Theater Corporation's work about the High Line, NO WAY OUT BUT ONWARD. It should be a great evening!

from the Anthology Film Archives press release:

REPORT FROM THE GHOST CITY
video performance works by
The Disembodied Theater Corporation and Ars Subterranea
Monday, March 24, 7:30pm
With Ross Lipman & Julia Solis in person!

Anthology Film Archives presents an evening with The Disembodied Theater Corporation featuring dispatches, news, songs, and fragments from the Ghost City: the skeletal remains of abandoned towns, railways, and graveyards that stand as remnants of a lost society. Filmmaker Ross Lipman and author Julia Solis will present a haunting assemblage of ruins, rants, and shards of memory that paint a collective portrait of dystopia. The evening will feature two distinct presentations: NO WAY OUT BUT ONWARD, an adventure in psychogeography through New York’s High Line, and presentations by members of the arts group Ars Subterranea, DISPATCHES FROM THE WASTELAND: three short imaginary narratives set inside abandoned mental hospitals.

NO WAY OUT BUT ONWARD:
An adventure in psychogeography through New York's High Line
PowerPoint performance by The Disembodied Theater Corporation
Written and narrated by Ross Lipman
Suite for Bass, Viola, and Trombone by Laura Steenberge
Photos by Leigh Evans, Ross Lipman, Nina Mankin

The High Line is the abandoned elevated freight rail that runs through the west side of Manhattan. Soon to be the site of an aerial public park, it for the moment remains a haunted paradise above the city—a verdant wasteland inhabited only by occasional taggers, wanderers, and police. In October 2004 a ragtag group ventured up to explore. As they were to learn, it's a space with its own internal logic, interacting with its visitors in a way unique to each. NO WAY OUT BUT ONWARD is a recounting of that day's events, told in PowerPoint, the modern day equivalent of an old-time Magic Lantern performance.


Scene from No Way Out But Onward.

Presentations made by members of the arts group Ars Subterranea
DISPATCHES FROM THE WASTELAND:

Three short imaginary narratives set inside abandoned mental hospitals

Tales from the Sanatorium
Drawing inspiration from The Canterbury Tales, the graphic novel series depicts an imperious Nurse leading a band of disheveled souls through endless apocalyptic asylum landscapes, occasionally pausing to tell stories. In the first installment, the Nurse recounts her own tale, "Rubber Lullaby." A combination of derelict spaces with mixed-media collage and still photography created by Bryan Papciak in conjunction with Ars Subterranea, Tales from the Sanatorium is a graphic novel set in an abandoned mental hospital – staged like a movie, but photographed as a series of stills.


Scene from Tales from the Sanatorium.

Funeral Play
A surrealistic journey into a hospital bed, based on a forthcoming Furnace Press book by Julia Solis.

Irma
Excerpts from a postmortem diary by Tom Kirsch (http://www.opacity.us) and Julia Solis.

Followed by:

Met State
(Bryan Papciak, 10 minutes, color/b&w, 16mm, 2001)
An award-winning experimental short film by exploring the graphic nature of derelict space through
an experimental study of an abandoned insane asylum.

About the presenting organizations and artists:

The Disembodied Theater Corporation is an amorphous performance entity devoted to the temporary manifestation of non-filmic cinemas.

Ross Lipman is an independent filmmaker, photographer, and writer who has presented work throughout the world at venues ranging from the Oberhausen International Film Festival to the Chinese Taipei Film Archive. His works have been collected by institutions and museums including the Sammlung Goetz in Munich. He is also one of the world’s leading authorities on the restoration of independent cinema, and was recently honored with the National Society of Film Critic’s 2007 Film Heritage award. In recent years he has been designing film, video, and performance works exploring urban decay as a marker of modern consciousness.

Ars Subterranea likes to play inside ruins and is comprised of artists, historians, and urban explorers working to create an intersection between art and architectural relics in the New York City area. Ars Subterranea’s aim is to instigate unique perceptions of New York's history by constructing narratives around the city's forgotten relics.

Julia Solis conducts archaeological parlor games and investigates ruined urban spaces. As the founder of Dark Passage, she started the creative preservation group Ars Subterranea in 2002 with the object of staging scavenger hunts and exhibitions in unusual locations in New York. She is the author of New York Underground: The Anatomy of a City (Routledge, 2004) and an editor of Furnace Press, which specializes in publications on urban decay.

Visit the project’s website: http://www.arssubterranea.org/sanatorium/ghostcity.htm

More about Ars Subterranea: http://www.arssubterranea.org

ANTHOLOGY FILM ARCHIVES
32 SECOND AVENUE NEW YORK, NY 10003; (212) 505-5181

About Anthology Film Archives: Founded in 1970, Anthology’s mission is to exhibit, preserve, collect documentation about, and promote public and scholarly understanding of independent, classic, and avant-garde cinema. Anthology screens more than 900 film and video programs per year, publishes books and catalogs annually, and has preserved more than 700 films to date.
Directions: Anthology is at 32 Second Ave. at 2nd St. Subway: F or V to 2nd Ave; 6 to Bleecker.
Tickets: $8 for adults, $6 for students & seniors; $5 for members.

'American Ruins' x 3

I was looking through the latest issue of photo-eye, and I came across an ad for Merrell Publishers. Featured was a photography book by Arthur Drooker titled American Ruins.

As you may remember, photographer Camilo Jose Vergara is one of my favorite photogs, and I recently asked him to autograph my copy of his book American Ruins (first published in 1999).

I also work with Ars Subterranea, and we've screened the work-in-progress film of a couple of our members, Bryan Papciak and Jeff Sias. The film is titled American Ruins, and its website can be found at www.americanruins.com.

One of my friends and collaborators pointed out to me today the first line of the "Book Description" of Drooker's book on Amazon.com: "American Ruins" is the first photography book to document historic ruins throughout the United States." ?!?!?!

It seems like a few people didn't do their research; photographers have been shooting historic ruins in America for many years now. Clarence John Laughlin and his book Haunter of Ruins come immediately to mind, just because now I'm thinking about my favorite photographers. Laughlin is most commonly referred to as a surrealist, but Haunter of Ruins features abandoned and deserted New Orleans buildings, which are pretty darn American. He was most active in the 1940s-60s. I'm sure somebody precedes him as well....

"American Ruins", the name and phrase, is genius and catchy. I understand this. It is not an excuse for it to be the only catchphrase that captures the movement of photographing significant abandoned American buildings.

Mr. Vergara's and Mr. Drooker's works are quite different. Simplistically stated, Vergara's is content driven. His photography is similar to Richard Avedon's (another one of my favorite photogs), in that it is direct and relies on its subject to provide the visual thrills. Drooker's work is romantic, mostly engineered by its use of infrared photography but also by the photos' compositions. I strongly prefer Vergara's style.

I also find it offputting that the main image used on several of American Ruins' (the film) webpages is so similar to Drooker's book cover.

Boo to Merrell, and yes, boo to Drooker as well.


A seldom-viewed Clarence John Laughlin image, interesting particularly in its subject location -
The Head in the Wall [building being demolished, near 2nd and K Streets, N.W., Washington, D.C.]
[Poems of Desolation]
1945
Source: Luminous-lint.com


While I was studying photography as a post-grad student in the early 90's, I traveled to New Orleans a couple of times and visited a photo gallery that had a few Laughlin prints and sold his books. This alone made my visits to New Orleans worthwhile; that's how strongly Laughlin's work affected me.

In time for Halloween: This Old House's 'Spooky Ruins'

This Old House online has a photo feature on Spooky Ruins, comprised of images from four members of Ars Subterranea. (Disclaimer: I'm involved with Ars Subterranea.) I was entertained by the posted comments; since this is for the This Old House audience, there's lots of talk about renovating the sites. And a fair amount of the posts argue which images are spooky and which are not. The photo feature is also currently linked to the main page of cnn.com.

My favorite is image 16 of 19. Which one is yours?

Image courtesy of Handcranked Productions.

Goodbye, summer?

Summer is my favorite season. I'm from Arizona, and I really love it when it gets hot outside. Sunshine makes me incredibly happy. (Having said that, I'm glad that I live somewhere with the four seasons.) I thought that last weekend would be the last weekend of summer weather, but that remains to be seen, as one newspaper article yesterday referred to our current weather as being typical of mid-July temperatures.

Last Saturday, I rode my bike again to City Island, approximately 10 miles each way. This forces me to exercise, and City Island is well worth the trip. There is nothing profound that I can say about the ride; it was just fun. And the tilapia that I had at The Original Crab Shanty was also good (and about 3 servings' worth).

On Sunday, Ars Subterranea held a low-key event, just a simple potluck on abandoned ships in Brooklyn. We all gathered in a retail store's parking lot, and then Julia led the way to the boats. Rotting wood, large nails, seaweed, crabs, and huge fish and jellyfish -- I saw none of this at City Island, but I wasn't looking, either.

The public who attends Ars Subterranea events (in this case, there was a large waiting list for the event) are really very interesting and enjoyable to hang around with, which is great. There was a metal crossway to an island at the location, and several attendees crossed over. I was a bit nervous -- I didn't want to fall into that water -- but the others were more than nice and supportive about it. (And I got to the other side easily.) There's a strong sense of camaraderie at urban exploration events, more so than in other aspects of my life.

The area with the abandoned boats and submarine (on top of which swans have built a home) is quite large. We went at low tide so that we could enjoy our picnic on the boat remains; during high tide, most of the site is unreachable.





Nathan Kensinger's blog has some romantic images of the event.

Furnace Press' Call for Submissions

I've started to do some work with Furnace Press, a small independent press formed by Ars Subterranea (of which I'm a Director) and Place in History. Below is a call for submissions; we will be publishing books about New York State ruins. Please spread the word to anybody you know who may be interested, or send me a link to anywhere where such a call for submissions could be listed.

Call for Submissions:

Furnace Press announces an author competition for its new publication series on urban ruins.
The Decomposition Series will consist of books focusing on noteworthy abandoned sites in New York State. The five books in this series will be 40-60 pages in length with black & white illustrations. The first of these publications will center on the ruins of Sea View, a former tuberculosis hospital in New York.

We're looking for proposals on interesting neglected structures with captivating visuals and intriguing histories. The text can consist of documentation, history, speculation, fiction, and/or personal experience. We're primarily looking for material that engages, arouses interest, and adds to the appreciation of forgotten ruins in New York.

There is no entry fee; the winning author will receive publication and contributor copies. The submission deadline is October 22, 2007.

Support for the Furnace Press Decomposition Series has been generously provided by the New York State Council for the Arts (NYSCA).

About Furnace Press
Furnace Press highlights obscure and neglected architectural subjects – urban decrepitude, industrial ruins, and disjointed neighborhoods – by publishing work that records the history of places facing obliteration, capturing them in transitive states. Co-founded in 2005 by Brooklyn-based arts groups Ars Subterranea and Place in History, Furnace Press publishes traditional paperback books, architectural pamphlets, and handmade books. Recent publications include Long Island City in Context by Paul Parkhill and Katherine Gray and Abandoned Tulsa by Alison Zarrow. Upcoming publications include The Space Between by John Law, short stories about bridge explorations; a handmade book Funeral Play by Julia Solis; and a Decomposition Series of publications focusing on urban decay in New York State. Furnace Press can be found online at www.furnacepress.com.