Last Fall, ArtPlace released a set of indicators used for measuring neighborhood vibrancy – an arguably fuzzy concept, but worthy of attention. Couched in a decade-long conversation about the economic role of artists, these indicators allow stakeholders to gauge the impact of their creative investments.

ArtPlace’s Vibrancy Indicators
Source: ArtPlaceAmerica.org

Made with GIS software, the following maps allow us to see the geography of vibrancy in Boston. Some caution: two indicators – cellphone activity and Walkscores – could not be included in the renderings, and not all data was available at the desired geographic resolution. This is not a complete representation of ArtPlace’s metric. Additionally, ArtPlace stresses that the measures are intended to be benchmarks for progress. They are not intended to determine where new investments should go.

Despite these drawbacks, it might be interesting to map these indicators on a large scale. Additionally, the following maps allow us to compare vibrancy between 2000 and 2010.

Vibrancy in Boston: 2000 (Left) to 2010 (Right)
Source: ArtPlaceAmerica.org; U.S. Census; City of Boston | Author: Matt Gardner

The vibrancy indicators generate some interesting spatial patterns. Over time, it appears that vibrancy is de-centralizing, to an extent, increasing in southern neighborhoods, and decreasing in central-city neighborhoods. Neighborhoods like Dorchester, Roslindale, and Jamaica Plain saw dramatic changes in the past 10 years.

Here’s a map of these changes:

Percent Change in Vibrancy in Boston, 2000-2010
Source: ArtPlaceAmerica.org; U.S. Census; City of Boston | Author: Matt Gardner

Insofar as the vibrancy metric reflects creative clusters, art places may already be on their way to dispersing throughout the city. In “Cultural Planning and the Creative City,” Ann Markusen argues for “minimal clustering and for dispersion on the grounds that cultural space can play powerful roles in stabilizing and revitalizing neighborhoods and in generating greater cultural participation by diverse groups.” If planned as such, creative placemaking could very well minimize the usual pitfalls of gentrification while cultivating arts communities in the city.

Maps help us navigate places of all scales, but how do we usefully contextualize that geographic information?

The process of interpreting a map of the city requires knowledge of important visual cues that help anchor our sense of “here.” Boston’s coastal geography provides these identifiable cues for easy navigation. How do other cities differ?

Instead of geology, residents of Tulsa rely on the tangle of highways that tie the suburbs together:

Because getting anywhere in Tulsa almost completely depends on an automobile, a Tulsan’s sense of place is obviously established relative to the highways. After all, people use roads to get from point A to point B. But these highways are more than simple transit routes. They are identifiable markers that help residents see where they are in relation to each other.

The visual cues that make geographic information useful depend on the unique regional qualities of a city, like transportation, geology, or even the weather. For example, Tulsa is notoriously positioned in Tornado Alley. As a native of Tulsa, some of my earliest memories of the city’s geographic boundary were associated with numerous tornado warnings that flashed across the television screen.

It’s probable that many young Oklahomans learned their county’s political boundary at a very early age thanks to tornados. But everyone experiences geography differently – sometimes as a function of class or race. Maps of New York’s subway system famously depict an enormous Manhattan:

In the “digital age,” cellphone reception certainly plays a role in our sense of place and its relationship to the broader geography. Its probable that the internet will play a growing role in what “here” means.

Last week, CitySMARTS sat down with members of the Boston-based artist group, the Lumen Collective, to discuss their first art opening entitled “Urban Planning: A History of Public vs. Private Space in the Heart of Downtown Boston.” Brooke Scibelli, a founding member of the collective, answered a few of our questions about the relationship between the artist, public space, and a history of displacement within the Dewey Square community. 

CitySMARTS:  Thanks for sitting down with us to discuss your work. I just have a few questions: what is the Lumen Collective? How did it come to be and who was involved in its creation?

Brooke Scibelli: The Lumen Collective is around ten people of young creative students and recent grads from different schools in Boston, including MassArt, the School of the Museum of Fine Arts, and Tufts University. Originally, we decided to form a group to meet once a week to talk about the creative processes, what we make, and how we can stay on track with deadlines. Then, we applied for a grant with the Rose F. Kennedy Greenway Conservancy, who awarded our project with funding.

CS: What does “Urban Planning” the art exhibit have to say about the profession itself?

BS: We started with “Urban Renewal” as a working title, but then we decided to go with “Urban Planning.” With this project, we wanted to explore: how does the history of, and what happened in Dewey Square – which went through all these different changes – relate to urban planning? Specifically, how did the Big Dig, the Central Artery, and these large-scale public projects affect the space and largely the people who used to live in that space?

CS: Did this project alter your initial impression of the Dewey Square Park history?

“The Giant of Boston” by Os Gêmeos

BS: As a child, I remember visiting the city and seeing an elevated highway. It was how we traveled into the city. Now, my connection with it is Occupy Boston and the Os Gêmeos mural. It’s a really politically charged space. During our research at the Boston Public Library archives, we learned a lot about various highway projects that displaced communities. For example, residents of Jamaica Plain organized to prevent the construction of a highway through their neighborhood, an effort by which they were successful. Another working title for the project was “Displacement” because it reflected on the various kinds of displacement possible in our cities.

CS: What was the process by which the collective chose public and private space as the opening’s conceptual focus?

BS:  We went through a lot of discussion about the concept, and whether we would aggressively showcase ‘displacement’ as an on-going political issue, or whether we would artfully reflect on the historical content of this space. The whole piece is geared around a lighting installation, involving one thousand feet of LED lights outlining the perimeter of the buildings that were destroyed by the construction of the Central Artery. So, this idea of the light schematic was our starting point from which there was a lot of discussion and debate.

The Project for Public Spaces in New York argues that “placemaking capitalizes on a local community’s assets, inspiration, and potential, ultimately creating good public spaces that promote people’s health, happiness, and well being… Unfortunately the way our communities are built today has become so institutionalized that community stakeholders seldom have a chance to voice ideas and aspirations about the places they inhabit. Placemaking breaks through this by showing planners, designers, and engineers how to move beyond their habit of looking at communities through the narrow lens of single-minded goals or rigid professional disciplines. The first step is listening to the best experts in the field—the people who live, work and play in a place.” How does “Urban Planning,” and the contributions made by individuals, relate to this philosophy?

BS: There’s a huge difference between the people who inhabit it now and the people who inhabited it then. We spoke with some of the former residents of Dewey Square who worked in production there, making shoes, rubber, wool, etc. They talked about the space being dirty and crowded, but exciting and bustling – which sounds like a vibrant place before the demolition of the area. Personally, I found that to be kind of sad, to lose that vibrancy. Today, it’s in the middle of the financial district beside the Federal Reserve Bank of Boston.

During Occupy Boston, there was an amazing mix of people in that space. For example, there was a successful fruit seller in Dewey Square who didn’t have adequate permits anymore, so he was asked to leave, which is another form of displacement. Though, the city and The Rose F. Kennedy Greenway Conservancy have provided this destroyed land with beautifully kept public parks, trash receptacles, benches, lights, and space and grants for public art.

CS: Planners and policymakers seek solutions to social and economic problems which requires a degree of control within the urban space. Architects are faced with the same difficulty in that their task relies upon a level of permanence within public space. Is it possible to allow for flexibility in a space without forcing the artist to compromise?

BS: It’s hard, especially in Boston, to produce public art. Going back to Os Gêmeos’ controversial mural, people misinterpreted the meaning of a shirt wrapped around the pictured boy’s head. The artists were referring to the struggle of making anonymous street art in Brazil. Additionally, murals of this size and location require funding and permission from donors and organizations. Within this type of dynamic, public art struggles to be provocative and to push boundaries of what will be accepted. So, in relation to flexibility in public space, an artist has to clearly deliver their message and prepare to defend their position.

CS: What difficulties do artists face in using public space as a canvas, specifically in Boston?

BS: Largely, artists must deal with the permit process, but it usually depends on the scale of what artists are doing. For example, some art in public space just appears on columns or other public objects like an electrical box. This is art on a much smaller scale in a different way – the same goes for graffiti, like the wall in Cambridge. In Boston, it’s really difficult to do large-scale public work that pushes boundaries because lack of funding, and approval or support from organizations or institutions. Specifically for “Urban Planning,” there were limitations to how long we could run our audio and keep lighting elements installed.

Though, an example of a successful public art platform is Art on The Marquee, a collaboration between Boston Cyberarts and the Massachusetts Convention Center Authority. Artists can submit video work to Art on The Marquee and selected pieces will be displayed on the set of huge digital screens on the waterfront. This provides great public exposure to many different kinds of artists. Interestingly, it’s also used as signage for advertising – just the other day, the Blue Man group was using it. It’s similar to how MTV in the ’80s showed “art breaks,” where it’s the same medium.

CS: What are artists doing today to change the rules that control public space?

Even here in Boston, some artists – largely out of necessity – use their own residential spaces at home as venues for artwork.

CS: Does the ephemerality of some art, like performance art, make it less potent?

BS: No. It is just as potent. Performance art can be in public space, private space, space including your lap on a Tuesday in the subway. Performance art is ephemeral, but it can be invasive. And when something stirs you unexpectedly, it’s debris can linger.

“Urban Planning: A History of Public vs. Private Space in the Heart of Downtown Boston“ opens on Thursday, March 7, 6:00 – 7:30PM at Dewey Square Park between Summer St & Congress St., Boston, MA. Visit the Lumen Collective‘s website for more information.

As technologies are increasingly used to automate the production of space, how should inequalities in information about place best be addressed from theoretical and practical standpoints? What are the dangers of being excluded from digital representations, and what are the emancipatory possibilities and potentials that can be realised through practices of augmenting place?

- Graham, Zook, & Bolton, “Augmented Reality in Urban Places: Contested Content and the Duplicity of Code.”

Earlier this year, the Sunlight Foundation released their app, Sitegeist, which depicts relevant data based on the geographic location of the user. The app includes charts on demographics and even recommends restaurants based on Yelp reviews.

Location-based media like Tweets and Foursquare check-ins are increasingly used to represent place, augmenting the ways in which we enact and move through space. How does the augmentation of the daily commute with income distribution data – from Jamaica Plain to Northeastern University, for example – shape one’s experience of those places?

During the commute, Sitegeist can depict this information:

The Sitegeist app bases these charts on the 2010 Census. Although some of the graphics may be generated in error, the results surprised me. Segments of Huntington Ave. as in image 4 depict stark inequities, but along other parts of the street the distribution shifts dramatically.

Among numerous other factors, the “niceness” of main streets and their neighborhoods is largely a function of capital flows and the space of place in which those flows are manifested. Could the digital shadow of place play a role in the evolving representations of wealth and income? As debates about place occur across various geographically referenced media (Yelp.com reviews of certain bakeries, for example), the enactment and representation of place will continue to evolve in new ways. How will the digital augmentation of reality and its effect on place transform existing dynamics of inequality?

Just some food for thought during the daily commute.

Exclusion from the political arena, i.e. the denial of participation in decision making, can alienate individuals and social groups. In the cultural arena, exclusion from common channels of cultural communication and integration can have similar effects.

- Ali Madanipour, Social Exclusion in European Cities: Processes, Experiences, and Responses (1998)

Most of today’s music venues are tightly regulated private spaces. Although the degree of regulation varies, the spaces in which such events take place are often characterized by high levels of planning and coordination. The “experience” is meticulously crafted, complemented by light shows, beverages, and merchandise. Boston’s Bank of America Pavilion is the go-to venue for all the big names around the world, offering high-end, international spectacles.

Bank of America Pavilion

These spaces cater to segments of the public who have enough disposable income. Attendees are spatially sorted into separate tiers within the venue, based on how much was spent on tickets. For this industry, demand determines geographic location, and while more prominent acts require larger venues to meet demand and maximize profit, smaller spaces with relaxed spatial regulation allow for lesser-known entertainers to attract a crowd. Although attracting widely-known musicians, Paradise Rock Club exemplifies this specific niche.

Paradise Rock Club

These smaller, private spaces allow for a more intimate experience and enforce no spatial hierarchies. Although necessitating some disposable income, these venues generally offer equal access to musicians. Regardless, the structure of access and exclusion characterizing the contemporary music venue depends on the social networks that constitute the industry. By definition, the venue is a platform for contemporary musicians, although the Internet as a digital space is confusing its function. Thus, such platforms depend on musicians’ degree of attachment to particular social networks to merit spatial inclusion.

Basement show in Mission Hill, a neighborhood of Boston

In major cities, house shows are organized inside certain residential spaces, access to which depends on one’s position in the social network. Sometimes running on donations only, these spaces are based on rules that are irrelevant to the market structures characterizing “legitimate” venues. Largely urban, the house show allows access depending on interest and awareness.

Regulation of these spaces is enforced from both within and without. Typically renter-occupied, these spaces’ lessees enforce social codes for basic protection of property. The degree of this enforcement varies from city to city and largely depends on the behavior of city police. As noted by one performer and resident of Jamaica Plain’s Whitehaus, availability of space for house shows in the neighborhood relies on the leniency of the Boston Police, who have notably taken a special interest in the house. Acting on noise complaints and other statues, police have entangled Whitehaus occupants with the municipal court system, limiting the frequency and scope of musicality taking place within the House.

From the perspective of law enforcement, control of space – and residential venues specifically – depends on the demographic makeup of the neighborhood. Although home to many students, Jamaica Plain is relatively less student-occupied than Allston, another neighborhood in Boston. Often home to students at Boston University, Allston is home to a large student population who make these spaces more difficult to manage. This neighborhood is typically host to numerous spaces for residential house shows in addition to the lively array of commercial venues in the area.

Boston’s recent blizzard tested this theory in some ways. Naturally, blizzards act as experiments in terms of the regulation of public and private spaces. By limiting road access, the storm forced city police to prioritize services. Noise complaints hardly registered in this respect. Understanding this, musicians took refuge inside the Whitehaus, using the temporary freedom of this public space to create and perform.

Artists at the Whitehaus

Visit Whitehaus Records: http://www.whitehausfamilyrecord.com/