the Elevated Acre seems unique to other parks and public spaces because a large number of the people I see there seem to be desperately trying to be left alone in some kind of peaceful moment or ritual. There is not as much casual looking around as in most public spaces. A lot of people are reading or eating, both very private activities that lead them to look down and away from others. I really wish these benches came with tables, because some people looked really uncomfortable hovering over their food.
The benches with the view of the highways, the two bridges, the helicopter pad, and brooklyn, seemed to be prime real estate with two people per bench being the maximum non-weird number of non-engaged strangers per bench. People seemed to notice when other people vacated those benches. I only noticed two groups of more than two people, and two couples eating together. With the exception of the young couple that was getting it on in the middle of the lawn the last time I was there, most people seem to have a private personal ritual or routine when they go there for lunch. One man had his shoes off while sitting meditatively facing the lawn (I think I ruined his moment when I took the picture below). Another ate his lunch on one of the view facing benches, and then took a spot near the couple to lay on the lawn, on his back for about twenty minutes before leaving, I assume to go back to work. Another man was laying on the lawn for at least an hour. A lot of people read, some in secluded hide away spaces. The park provides lots of these.
While I previously found the park impractical, I realized on this visit that the people that do use it must find it quite perfect for them.


Because of the view and the noise, the whole place is very much connected to this view of the movement of the city.
From the view you see a helicopter landing pad, two bridges, the brooklyn and the manhattan bridges, passing ferries and several piers, the east side highway, elevated above the roads below it, and the BQE. The bqe looks especially striking, appearing to be two levels dug underneath the brooklyn skyline on the other side of the river. It is difficult to take the scene in because it is so large, loud, and vibrant, with so many moving parts: cars, trucks, boats, planes, helicopters, people.
The sounds of this movement are heard throughout the park. The brightest most coveted sitting spots overlook it. People gaze at it, and then retreat to their activities: reading, eating, making out, talking, listening to music, looking at their mobile devices, or spacing out. People are waiting. Nobody here is free to come and go. They are all here because they have a limited amount of time to themselves. As much as they are trying to find respite and time, they are waiting. They all seem to be waiting for the inevitable end of their forced pieceful activities. In these ways the space is reminiscent of an airport. Like an airport, people are there waiting to move on. While transportation to elsewhere is not the ultimate goal here, waiting to move on between different sections of time is a similar process. And through the view and the sounds of movement, transportation also remains central literally. Like an airport, the park private and impersonal, with the exceptions of groups who pass the time and wait together. It is clean and accommodating to this kind of personal time, while not being overly inviting in its sterile design.
After discussing this park’s non-parkness, and its self negating design, and going back to discussions of site vs. non-site, I reread Marc Auge’s analysis of transportation spaces. He says that because of our experiences of them and of each other and ourselves in these places, they are essentially non-places. There is something of this in this park. It is not a place for transportation, but it is similarly a waiting place, and it is similarly lacking in locationness and placeness.
One thing from his text that stands out, is the transformation of the idea of travel from the vision of the place, or landscape, to the vision of yourself in it: the spectacle of the traveler. He mentions pamphlets of the visiter looking tiered and proud on top of a mountain, or at a famous site, dressed in tourist gear. At some point we began to imagine ourselves as visitors as spectacles, seen from outside of our bodies. These rituals that people seem to want to have in this park, while they wait for the end of their lunch break, seem to be just that. Because they are not free to enjoy the peace they seem to embody, but for a minute, it seems very difficult to get there. I am totally projecting my own feelings of stress and restlessness on them, but because of the extreme ritualism, and relaxing and solitary positions that people took, I imagined them as spectacles.

Thinking of the public for this piece, I am curious about the reception. If the public exists as long as it is addressed and continues to discuss itself, I wonder what these particular circumstances will mean. A surprising amount of people here were younger than I imagined, and within the two groups I saw, they were very social and grew throughout their lunch break. The main discussion was the couple going at it in the middle of the lawn. It was a spectacle. While it got a lot of attention, it seemed disruptive to the flow of the park. If they were an object, it would feel more disruptive, because of the relative importance that physicality seems to have in this park. From the obtrusive structures to the over designed landscaping, the people in their mobility and awkwardness seem to come second.

I would hate to add to this feeling. I want to add more to the feeling of being able to escape and hide, since this is what people seem to be trying to do, or to comment on these two forces in some other way.