On the tenth of February, our small group, consisting of Mark Rayev, Sandy Mui, Mitch Vutrapongvatana, and myself, sojourned to Manhattan’s West Side in search of New York City’s prolific High Line. The weather experienced throughout this trip was rather relentless, unifying high winds speeds with temperatures fluctuating between 18 and 25 degrees Fahrenheit. This unpalatable weather proved itself to be the preeminent force in rendering us uncomfortable. Cold winds permeated the inner linings of our caps and gloves, rendering them not only ineffective in sustaining heat but also highly capable of insulating whatever cold that was caught between its inner lining and our skin, further exacerbating the body’s lack of comfort in an already chilled environment. Upon reaching the High Line at approximately half past noon, the most unsavory unification of high elevation and rapid wind speeds blasted us with its utmost might; our faces were left in need of proper conditioning and our legs began to autonomously quiver, signaling a yearning for warmth and shelter. An hour past noon, the weather seemed to quell itself and positioned us in a condition which we deemed forgiving in comparison to the aforementioned implacability cast upon us earlier in the day. At last, we were in a suitable setting to gave upon the New York City High Line in all of its architectural grandeur.
Our ethnographic field trip began in Chelsea Market, a multifaceted building suited well for its heterogeneous service venues. Climbing the metal clad stairs which led to the High Line was an unsettling experience. The concurrent metal squeaking of metal panes and their subtle movements made me feel as if I had lost balance; notwithstanding the aforementioned feeling, the stairs had been built to withstand the heavy abuse of constant New York walking traffic. Any other medium, such as wood, would have surely buckled once confronted with this large degree of use. Atop these stairs, stands the entryway to the New York City High Line. The most pervading accent of the High Line is most notably the still evident train tracks of the West Side Line. The metal of these tracks have corroded from shear weathering and lack of maintenance. I find the juxtaposition of fauna and these tracks to be indicative of the blending of old and new New York. Modern New Yorkers place great emphasis on visiting lands unpaved by concrete and laid with greenery. The shrubbery during this time of year can be characterized as desiccated and seemingly devoid of life. Nonetheless, even this faint glimmer of greenery, in its yellowed state, is demonstrative of the city’s ever-increasing interest in garnering natural landscapes within limited portions of itself: the most promising of these landscapes are Central Park and the High Line.
Seemingly insignificant artifacts have been designed with great detail within the High Line. The rectilinear nature of the pathway’s decking has been created in such a way that does not seem too far distant from the city’s most prominent architectural forms: skyscrapers. Benches have been composed in an irregular fashion: one side of each bench ends in a concrete slope which joins in with the High Lines decking. Perhaps this design choice was made to represent the slow accent from the streets of New York to the High Line itself: the decking is symbolic of the city’s concrete oriented landscape, the slope of the bench is indicative of the stairs leading to the highline, and the bench, the majority of it exclusive to the slope, is representative of the High Line. The benches are textured in wood and feel rough to the touch. The buildings which seemingly channel into the High Line are also unique in figure. One building had a side that was structured in a zig-zag like form. Amongst the varied sights one experiences in the High Line, stand various works of art. Kaari Upson’s addition to the High Line’s Panorama is one such work. The artist composed a structure of resin coated Pepsi cans in a rectangular shape. The most perplexing use of these cans is seen from the inside where cans can be seen to gradually stack upon one another in layers until the highest point of the work is achieved. Several conglomerations of cans sit idly aside from this initial structure. This work may be hinting towards Manhattan’s perpetual assent, in architectural terms. Skyscrapers will continue to grow in length amongst the New York ecosystem, as represented by the rectangular perimeter of the work. From the segment of of High Line from the 20th to 30th streets, lives Andro Wekua’s inclusion in Panorama. This structure is highly minimalistic in nature: metal frames are placed together to produce a window-like form. The metal has rusted in a uniform matter. By touching this metal, one feels as if the cold surrounding them is focused onto the metal segment that they are touching. The rust protrudes in a cyclical manner, lending to the uniform texture of the metal. Through this windows, a viewer can see the residential occupation of the area directly surrounding this segment of the High Line. Apartment complexes line either side of the pathway, automobiles drive underneath the High Line, and the environment is somewhat cramped. Some buildings are separated from others by their respective awnings. By looking through this figurative window, an individual can see the congestion of residential New York from a different plane. An individual can look through the windows as a third party as opposed to a first. This detachedness comes from the High Lines elevation.
The least satisfying attributes of the High Line are most probably the smell and sound surrounding its immediate area. During this day, at approximately half of an hour past one o’ clock, the High Line was infiltrated by the sound of raucous horn honking, construction machinery gritting, and hammer hitting. At times, our group found it difficult to recollect on our immediate surroundings. These jarring sounds seemingly altered our trains of though and figuratively derailed them. While highly noisome, sound was subordinate to smell in terms of unpleasantness. The nauseating combination of exhaust fumes and sewage filled the very cavities of our lungs at certain points during the day. I recall one individual dutifully characterizing this combination as “the smell of pollution.” These smells were most likely augmented by the early snow storm experienced earlier in the day. As time would progress, the snow would melt and find itself as a potent amplifier of all things malodorous. The smells were highly contemptible, but oscillated between varying degrees of odor as we progressed through the High Line.
One scent that did not harm our very sense of smell was that of freshly brewed coffee. Countless individuals were seen drinking coffee in the High Line, perhaps indicating that they were in a break of sorts. Aside from the casual walkers of the High Line, several individuals were seen running. This sight lends itself towards the notion that the High Line is a safer environment, than the streets of Manhattan, in which an individual can exercise without having to remain constantly vigilant of roaring cars and traffic signals. This type of landscape is one of unique stature within Manhattan. The repurposing of the West Side Line into the New York City High Line has proven itself fruitful in helping New Yorkers to attain a landscape seemingly dissimilar from that of the streets of New York.
