En route

A brief hiatus from the recent unpleasant weather, I would have hoped, would yield a more successful urban encounter than the preceding days. However, not much was different, and this was to no real surprise. My grievance is that the urban fabric to be observed isn’t as colorful as it’s esteemed. Against my normal proclivity to find the extraordinary, I chose to observe street traffic—a mundane phenomenon shared by every city; it’s unnoticed and yet demanding existence caught my attention.

The quintessence of contemporary urban thought relies on activity, bustle, and the progress. This manifests itself best in its most obvious and effective form of the road—an urban conduit designed to transport people from A to B. The city is overwhelmed with streets, and manytimes are they the most recognizable thing about an area. I observed a regular Sunday afternoon’s happenings between Guadaulupe and 8th and 9th streets.

The actors are most commonly the car, the biker, and the pedestrian—all of course linked by their means of transportation, and their contribution to the urban spirit. Their interaction, as did their personal narrative, diminished with respect to size and speed.

Myriad pedestrians used the streets and sidewalks, although rarely following traffic laws, to get to their destination. Some, however, were simply walking for leisure. A man was walking his girlfriend’s dog with little idea to where he was going--a local nomad who had recently moved downtown to be a part of the very urban dream which he helped sustain. He followed the encircling path of the nearby park and strolled past the city library twice before heading back home. The dog wouldn’t do its business, and so the man’s only response was to continue walking it with plastic bag in hand. The couple stopped and waited at a “do not walk” crossing signal as the ever-present traffic streamed through, and a pair of bikers unsuccessfully kept with the pace of traffic on their uphill struggle.

The bikers stopped amidst a rush of cars at a red light as the man and dog passed them by per the directions of the “walk” crossing signal. They had biked from West Campus looking forward to a fun downtown ride in search of some denim jackets to match their stellar jeans. The faint revving of engines meant the light had turned green, and the cars obediently went on as they had done at each preceding light; the bikers prepared dumbfoundedly for a swift downhill journey and took to the temporarily empty sidewalks before they were soon out of sight.

Cars came and went like lifeless sheep, revealing fragments of the people who occupied their bellies through the occasional thump of a loud base or a cell phone conversation loud enough to be heard over the hum of idling engines.

The street in an urban context has become more than a suggested path of travel; it goads the “en route” notion of urban doings on several levels. It is obvious where the pedestrian came from, what he is doing, and where he is off to next. The biker still retains a sense of personality, but for a brief period of time. The automobile, given its inhuman shape and speed, loses all effects of personal presence. These three means of movement co-exist at different tempos and scales under the prescribed direction of traffic to make Austin a rhythmically diverse city.

A Special Place

After a week’s ice and rain, there was a perfect break of sunshine and warmth throughout the capital city. I wasn’t the only one to notice, for the cavity of greenery on the corner of West 9^th and Guadalupe Streetwas busy with activity; luring in quantities of transients looking for a place to pass the time.

Perimeter hills, vast tree canopies, and the picturesque gazebo amidst the cavernous setting, created what would be place for an outdoor concert with ideal natural tiers. Instead, this Sunday morning the gazebo housed a variety of activities, none of which comprised a center act… well, almost.

A man in a blue wind breaker sat on the higher steps of the gazebo eating his recently acquired lunch. Minutes earlier, two men posted at a nearby picnic table to give out lunches to the transients. The blue wind breaker man stopped to talk to them and headed to the gazebo with a lunch in hand which he held so intently close to himself.He was quick to devour all three items, alternating between sandwich and juice, chips and juice, sandwich, chips, and then juice. An older gray haired man had been observing the blue jacket man from a few meters distance. He slowly approached the gazebo, stopping at the bottom of the steps and raising a foot up to have a leg to lean on. Both men conversed, sporadically elevating their gazes towards the men at the picnic table who had gained the attention of many others with their absurd comments and perverse conversation. It seemed Gray-haired man wanted in on the lunch special. Shortly after he too went over to the picnic table and returned to the gazebo to enjoy his own sandwich, chips, and juice next to his new-found friend.

After many hours of soliciting on the corner of I-35 and Riverside Drive, a middle-aged man trekked the long journey to West 9^th and Guadalupe to complete his Sunday routine that included waiting for the church truck that brought the occasional food and clothing. He sat on the curb of 9^th for some time, searching in desperation for the source that would take his appetite and give him warmth. He transitioned to sit on an epiphanic tree stump that made him apprehend the potential of the gazebo: a place to lie down and count pieces of gum under the baluster of the gazebo rail. He lay there for the remainder of my time spent observing other passerby’s. I later sparked a conversation with another older man, Joe, who wore a beat down sweater and muddy khakis. He told me about his daughter whom he saw little of, his Spanish ex-wife, successful brother in-laws, and his own alcohol and drug abuse. Despite his off tangent conversation, he came off as generous man, and I was glad to offer a listening ear. At least he caught the church truck that was giving out the soup; I couldn’t help but stare at what seemed to be a bean stuck in his over-grown mustache.

Two friends walk up to the immediate center of the green concavity to have a casual conversation. One of them steers his bicycle by his side while the other in a black hoodie subtly brings his legs tightly together and hunches over to hold his stomach. With a determined step, he heads toward the gazebo, and without hesitation, unzips his pants and micturates on the side wall, only feet away from the men enjoying their lunch. As I and other onlookers gaze at him, he shows no shame or remorse and proceeds with a little shake and zipping of his pants. He returns his attention to his friend and they continue their conversation.

Although at first glance this Roman columned gazebo would seem to house family oriented activities, this Sunday it has served a different purpose: to fulfill the essential needs of its transient guests.

Philosopher's Rock

Zilker Park is a place full of activity and people, except of course on those unfortunate rainy days. Today, however, the weather is perfect for a day in the park. A lady sleeps on the grass while another reads a book on a bench. A man sits on a rock and talks on his cell phone. A grandpa pushes a stroller along the sidewalk. Two girls spin hula hoops around their waists while their friends play cards. And a group of guys throw around a yellow Frisbee. With the endless possibilities at Zilker Park, it is surprising that the busiest place around is a statue called Philosopher’s Stone.

To the adults it is simply a sculpture of three men sitting on a rock, but Jay sees a playground waiting to be explored. He is the first to climb the rocks and make his way within the circle of the carved men.

As he climbs on top of one of the stone men, others begin to notice and join him in the fun.

The children form a circle of their own as they sit in the statues’ hands.

Sitting down only long enough for the camera to snap a picture,

the children quickly find new ways of engaging with the sculpture.

A game of tag begins as the boys jump from rock to rock trying to catch each other. No one dares step foot on the gravel; the trick is to always stay on the rocks.

The children are in their own world within the Philosopher’s Stone,

invisible to the nearby adults.

A man rushes by paying no attention to the excitement on the stones.

Two men are talking to each other, captivated only in their own conversation.

And some bikers ride along without a glimpse.

The Philosopher’s Stone is an interesting example of the different ways children and adults interact with their environment. The adults maintain a distance, while the children claim places and objects as their own, finding ways to personally engage with their surroundings.

Two Different Elevations

The sun is setting and the shadow from the curb near the intersection of 22nd and Nueces is getting longer and more faint. There are a lot of cars on the road now and there's a good amount of activity going on in this area. A blue Jetta parks on Nueces and a woman and her young daughter get out of the car. The daughter probably just recently graduated from the "my mom carries me everywhere" age to the "I walk with my mom" age, and they walked side by side down the sidewalk holding hands. When the young girl got to the step, which was fairly high up for her, her mom reacted by lifting the girl by her arms up the step. She lifted her quickly, and a bit higher than necessary to give the girl the feeling she was jumping high.
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It's getting dark out and a group of five of what appears to be college-age guys heading towards campus, talking as they go. They are standing side by side in a line, so that 2 of them have to walk in the grass on beside the road, 2 are on the sidewalk, and one is on the grass on the other side of the sidewalk. As they cross the driveway approaching the curb, the guys walking on the grass fall back and step up where the sidewalk is instead of stepping up where the grass is.
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It's 7:30 at night and now this sidewalk isn't very well-lit. A man dressed in khaki pants and a burnt-orange polo shirt crosses the street and continues walking on the sidewalk. His eyes are locked in the distance, it seems like he's staring at a car. As he gets closer to the fairly tall curb, his gaze shifts to the step down ahead of him. He slows a bit, maybe to time his step right for the curb. The step down is smooth and the man continues towards his car.

a day at the park

Today, finally a day of sun. I like to get outside but for the past week or so there has been this hold on me. The cold weather was essentially ruling my life and making me live as a recluse individual confined to his quarters. I am a Texan and I hate cold weather. Waking up to the sun is how it should be. Having woken up to this dismal frozen over dreariness the last week I came to further appreciate the sun and all the warmth it brought. For the assignment I went where I naturally was drawn on a day like today. zilker park. The sun and its warmth provided a mode of liberation for me and my fellow Austinites. Writing a narrative would assume that I merely observed people and their activities and stood off from them with little interaction. And I tried this. I wanted to pull myself away from their reality and take note. But in such an environment I kept being pulled into these actors scenes and began to play a role in the story in front of me. I watched some people having a picnic and became part of their story when they asked me to take their picture. At first I felt a bit bizarre because in my mind they didn’t see me, yet I was pulled into their world. Once I had broken that barrier there was no real way to continue observing this scene because they were no longer characters but rather people who I had interacted with. So, I move on. A man with his dog. Another classic scene on a beautiful day like today. They were playing ball. He smokes a cigarette and I continue to observe, I walk by him and give him a comfortable nod. He asks me how I’m doing and the next thing I know we are engaged in a conversation. I am curious about his dog and through this conversation I can understand who he is. I have no idea what his name is but that doesn’t matter. Another observation interrupted as two realities collide. He’s a man playing with his dog and I a student interested in his every move. We had two very different motives until we began talking but once this barrier is broken we can begin to understand one another. I pet the dog and move on. A father and son flying a remote controlled airplane. A Christmas present I presume. My friend Johnny is with me. He sees the toy plane and remembers a period in his childhood. He begins to tell me a story of him as a child and flying a toy plane with his father. I begin to have a greater connection with the father and child in the distance. They are no longer characters they are people sharing an experience. This is an experience that this kid will never forget just as Johnny has never forgotten this memory with his father. I am not involved but somehow feel a connection with this father and son and the moment that they are sharing. The father and son walk by us and we begin a conversation. Johnny tells the man of his flights in the past and the kid tells us of all the new tricks he has learned. I am not an observer. I cannot watch those around me and not be drawn to this activity. The when, where, what why and how cannot be imagined for these are my people and my friends. When left in an open space such as this the nodes are bound to collide. Once the sun has set there is no one left to bump into and I go home.

XWalk

22nd St. x Nueces St.
North Side

White Stripes? You could call them white lines, but since its my blog I'll call them strips. If you put a couple of Stripes together at an intersection you get a xwalk. This xwalk is different though, no traffic lights, no abnormally large orange hand or a miniature caucasian man telling you when to walk. It is rather an unspoken xwalk where, like any other xwalk in this city pedestrians rule. It is unspoken to stop your vehicle before the first white stripe when approaching the intersection when pedestrians are visable at the corners. Aright now as pedestrian C jogs down 22nd st. coming from the drag at 9:34 a car approaches from the north down Nueces st. As this professional jogger (I say professional b/c he's one of those that jog in place to keep his blood going while stopping to see if it is safe to cross at the xwalk. One can't also help but notice his short shorts on the particularly cool night. I'm expecting him to look at his watch and check his pulse any minute) but any ways as pedestrian C sees a car approaching the car notices the jogger and stops before the the first stripe. So the moral is the car clearly stopped before the xwalk b/c the car saw pedestrian C as he approached the xwalk. Now as time went by with no pedestrians present at the corners of the xwalk, cars, for the most part, used the stop sign as a yield sign. I'll be honest and admit that I have been known to do the same. Some drivers even went to extremes and ran straight through the stop stign. So now what happends when a pedestrian that appears to be doing some kind of power walk, u know the ones like grandma takes where its too fast to be a walk but too slow be a jog, is coming down 22nd from Rio Grande? This corner is different b/c from an approaching drivers view the visibility of seeing a pedestrian walking down the sidewalk is a lot less than the opposite side where pedestrian C came. The view is less because of some shrubbery.

So when powerwalker (pedestrian P) approaches the xwalk and an anxious driver ( Driver A) also approaches the xwalk coming down Nueces there becomes a slight problem. There is a problem b/c Driver A didn't see the pedestrian P until the it was too late, which means Driver A didn't stop before the first line rather she I mean Driver A stops right over the all three stripes. So now Pedestrian A is annoyed b/c his power walk is disrupted and Driver A probably feels awkward. So now Driver A has to decide should she go first to get out of pedestrian P's way? Should she just let him walk all the way around her car; or should she put the car in reverse to let him cross where he is suppose to cross. AWKWARD! not awkward as when your out on a date and you go inside to sit on her couch and have nothing to say awkward, but more like "yea I'm and idiot sorry!" as you look them staright in the eye, Awkward. Well she does nothing but freeze, not even a look to Pedestrian P's eyes. Maybe its just me b/c that's probably how I would feel about the whole thing if I was driver A (minus the freezing I'd probably drive through the intersection to get out of his way with a look to the eye and I'm sorry) or maybe she was just trying to let him go first as he walked all the way around her car. Anyways there are no morals here about white stripes. I'm not really going to say stop at every stop sign, but what I will say is this is my narrative, its just a little food for thought so now go, go tell the world what I have told you.

The Moon Tower, The Resident, The Walker

These towers were built like in 1895 or something. They were originally gas lamps. The farmers, all this used to be farm land by the way. The farmers were worried that the lights would cause the plants to grow 24 hours a day. Back then, someone had to climb up to the top everyday and light the lamps.

I have lived here for 25 years. Not 25 consecutive years, because this property has been a rental for the last 50 or so. I have seen a lot. I was here when they completely tore down the moon tower, only to rebuild it for the 100 year anniversary. To celebrate they had a parade with floats and they shut down Speedway.

The people that lived here before me used to hang out in the yard. They made all the improvements out in the lawn. They even tried to talk the landlord into trimming the bushes and trees back so you could really see the moon towers light diffuse through the branches.

Once a month some drunk kid tries to climb the tower. My friend also climbed up there. From the top you can see all way to the I-35 overpass. You can see the top of the steeple at Hyde Park Baptist. When, you’re up there, you just have to scream out, which, alerts the police and two minutes later they’re waiting for you at the bottom. They all get arrested.

There was once, about two years ago when a kid got fried up there. The power lines got too close to the tower and the kid had his limbs burnt off when he hit the pavement. The city won’t talk about it, they settled out of court. He had a girl with him that was sitting in this very chair; she’s now down at Shoal Creek. That tells you how bad it was. The biggest worry that we have though is that some bus is going to run into the moon tower and knock it down. That happens every once in a while.

This is usually a quiet neighborhood, but every once in a while some yahoo will run a stop sign and smash into a car coming the opposite direction. The tower used to do a better job lighting the street and stop sign, but then all these damn trees grew.

So here I sit. Watching the world go by. Cars just passing through. People outside walking. I hear the moon tower used to be brighter, now it just is overshadowed by all the streetlights.