Get Small, New York!
A Solo Show By The Artist Known As Conrad
NO PARKING METERS WERE HARMED IN THE MAKING OF THIS PROJECT.
Epiphanies happen at the oddest times. One minute I’m pounding the pavement with my camera and I stop to tie my shoe on the bumper of a car. I then turn my head for a second and stare dead on into the glass of a defunct New York City parking meter. Inspecting it more closely, it hit me that the domed glass would act as a perfect display. The meter itself, made from solid steel, is weatherproof and nearly unbreakable. I also noticed that inside there was a tiny shelf already built into the design of the meter to show their individual registration numbers. My mind immediately raced back to my school days when I often built dioramas for various classes. Here was a way now to recreate that joy and to make public works of art without damaging or imposing onto the city landscape. The meters have stood the test of time for decades and since they’ve become obsolete, replaced by technology, they needed a new identity. New York City has been changing for years and WE needed to change with it. It was October too and the city was obsessed with the artist Banksy. I enjoyed his work but why should some Brit get the press have all the fun? Looking down the streets, I literally saw thousands of these meters, some in better shape than others but more importantly, I saw opportunity. Analyzing each one for hours and hours, bleeding into days, I found some meters that were more “accessible” than others, already violated by vagrants looking for easy change.
Having done graffiti as a boy and having a bad experience or two, I knew that walking around at night dressed in black fatigues with a ski mask on my face was not the way to go. I instead ventured out at night dressed in fluorescent clothes like a construction worker. This is how one can hide in plain sight. With railroad figurines that I purchased from a hobby store in my old neighborhood, I used chopsticks and glue and I carefully placed them inside the meter, building tiny sets, akin to constructing a ship in a bottle. My hands were too big to access the meters so I spent hours carefully working on these intricate scenes. Overnight, the glue would dry, and by daybreak I came back with my camera and took photos of the creations. This went on for months over the bitterly cold winter. My fingers were frozen, the glue would congeal but thankfully not a soul was around to give me a hard time. Needless to say, I felt crazy but after printing the photos what I got in return seemed whimsical, interesting and a very cheap and non-invasive form of public art.
As the project evolved and warmer days finally arrived, I discovered meters whose tops were strangely removed. In a sort of spur-of-the-moment thing I turned them into street flower pots. Again, the meters seemed perfect for yet another idea and it was my foray into the realm of eco-graffiti. The wonderful thing about re-purposing is creating something that the original designer or company never intended. Beauty is possible in any place.
At first glance to the viewer the meters may look clever or silly. Topically, they seem to be easy to understand. But there is something more and I will not accept them as simply kitsch. The fact is that the icons of my youth are disappearing. The fireboxes, the payphone, the mailbox, the meters… all steal anchors that held a neighborhood together. I remember going to the “good” payphone to make anonymous prank calls. I pulled the firebox alarm and screamed profanities at the operator and had contests with my street chums on who could stuff the most snow in a mailbox to ruin a week’s worth of letters. There were also good meters, ones whose timer needle got stuck on some distant minute, letting you relax in a spot for hours. My father kept a mental map on these magical spaces, happy that he saved a quarter. Then again, he’d have a roll of slugs to stuff the meter with that we bought once a month from some mob underling to save a few bucks on laundry or to use at the arcade. But nowadays, you can’t get away with anything. Not even a little mischief. Cameras have become and iron ring and receipts a mile long tail every purchase. So, maybe I’m trying to be a rascal again by going out on these nightly ventures, dressed in a disguise but doing something so unique and sublime that you can’t call it vandalism. I’m out there enhancing the streets.
The meters also speak about obsoleteness and our throwaway society. Sure, maybe they were hated but after decades of service and many, many of them older than me, there seems to be no fanfare, no celebration or even a good riddance smirk. Since they were disdained they were rendered invisible and I for one know that feeling. I believe we all do. My parents too worked till their deaths and no one ever noticed. All we seem to be is our jobs and lifetimes disappear unceremoniously. I don’t expect a retirement party for the meters- that would just be nuts but I think that becoming a work of art before you go is a great way to end a life. All things deserve a second chance.
I wanted to work with the city to either have the rights to keep these installations permanent or somehow acquire the meters to create “mobile meters”, peppering them throughout the city within concrete stands. The city is planning on getting rid of all the meters but will attempt to sell them in blocks and I’d like very much to get a few and really make something grand. Currently, I am running a Kickstarter campaign to have funds to purchase the meters and to get the needed supplies to build them out. I hope that you can lend support behind this idea. And all this started because my shoe happened to be untied at the right time.
Having done graffiti as a boy and having a bad experience or two, I knew that walking around at night dressed in black fatigues with a ski mask on my face was not the way to go. I instead ventured out at night dressed in fluorescent clothes like a construction worker. This is how one can hide in plain sight. With railroad figurines that I purchased from a hobby store in my old neighborhood, I used chopsticks and glue and I carefully placed them inside the meter, building tiny sets, akin to constructing a ship in a bottle. My hands were too big to access the meters so I spent hours carefully working on these intricate scenes. Overnight, the glue would dry, and by daybreak I came back with my camera and took photos of the creations. This went on for months over the bitterly cold winter. My fingers were frozen, the glue would congeal but thankfully not a soul was around to give me a hard time. Needless to say, I felt crazy but after printing the photos what I got in return seemed whimsical, interesting and a very cheap and non-invasive form of public art.
As the project evolved and warmer days finally arrived, I discovered meters whose tops were strangely removed. In a sort of spur-of-the-moment thing I turned them into street flower pots. Again, the meters seemed perfect for yet another idea and it was my foray into the realm of eco-graffiti. The wonderful thing about re-purposing is creating something that the original designer or company never intended. Beauty is possible in any place.
At first glance to the viewer the meters may look clever or silly. Topically, they seem to be easy to understand. But there is something more and I will not accept them as simply kitsch. The fact is that the icons of my youth are disappearing. The fireboxes, the payphone, the mailbox, the meters… all steal anchors that held a neighborhood together. I remember going to the “good” payphone to make anonymous prank calls. I pulled the firebox alarm and screamed profanities at the operator and had contests with my street chums on who could stuff the most snow in a mailbox to ruin a week’s worth of letters. There were also good meters, ones whose timer needle got stuck on some distant minute, letting you relax in a spot for hours. My father kept a mental map on these magical spaces, happy that he saved a quarter. Then again, he’d have a roll of slugs to stuff the meter with that we bought once a month from some mob underling to save a few bucks on laundry or to use at the arcade. But nowadays, you can’t get away with anything. Not even a little mischief. Cameras have become and iron ring and receipts a mile long tail every purchase. So, maybe I’m trying to be a rascal again by going out on these nightly ventures, dressed in a disguise but doing something so unique and sublime that you can’t call it vandalism. I’m out there enhancing the streets.
The meters also speak about obsoleteness and our throwaway society. Sure, maybe they were hated but after decades of service and many, many of them older than me, there seems to be no fanfare, no celebration or even a good riddance smirk. Since they were disdained they were rendered invisible and I for one know that feeling. I believe we all do. My parents too worked till their deaths and no one ever noticed. All we seem to be is our jobs and lifetimes disappear unceremoniously. I don’t expect a retirement party for the meters- that would just be nuts but I think that becoming a work of art before you go is a great way to end a life. All things deserve a second chance.
I wanted to work with the city to either have the rights to keep these installations permanent or somehow acquire the meters to create “mobile meters”, peppering them throughout the city within concrete stands. The city is planning on getting rid of all the meters but will attempt to sell them in blocks and I’d like very much to get a few and really make something grand. Currently, I am running a Kickstarter campaign to have funds to purchase the meters and to get the needed supplies to build them out. I hope that you can lend support behind this idea. And all this started because my shoe happened to be untied at the right time.
