In 1912 the Narragansett Electric Lighting Company erected the South Street Power Plant on the Providence River just inwards of the Narragansett Bay. Formerly, in Rhode Island's Industrial Age, rapid population growth and flourishing factory production provided a centralized market for electricity. Then as now, making electricity in plants depends on steam. Then as always, steam can't be produced void of water. Consequently, consistent power depends on consistent water. Hence, South Street Power Plant was functionally situated on a small stretch of the river that maintains depth at low tide and presumably set such that pollution bellowing from the smoke stacks would dissipate before breathing on downtown inhabitants. At It's operational capacity the South Street Power Plant consistently maintained an output of 400psi producing over 66,000 Volts of energy. Over time however, the evolution of residential suburbs decentralized urban dwelling and widely dispersed the demand for domestic electricity. Eventually, Narragansett Electric moved on, either simply to sustain or expand with the changing times and South Street became Eddy Street in The Providence Jewelry district. Left behind was the simple, but artistically sturdy structure of brick and mortar. And so it stands still, in motion only through time speaking silently to the journey. In it's own realm of experience without an understanding of fear. One is free to come and go without ever interrupting the dialogue. On a journey myself last semester I came to this point simply by the direction of childish impulse. I took a fire escape up four stories to stand rooftop. I remember feeling free on the way up, but it was untill I was at the summit that I found solitude. Standing there I began to notice that a beautiful view is magnified shared perspective.
Atop the roof one is not alone. The relatively flat portion of the roof is littered with old vents, drop offs, and ladders all perfectly comprising an easily passable walk and an adequately challenging sprint from side to side. Footprints indicate many have done both. Immersed in the composition of all my senses at once, I have little recollection of my thoughts from that first time. What I have is not the memory of conscious thought, but the memory of being. I think maybe with nobody to follow, we follow instinct. The south side of the roof elevated and then took on a slant. It didn't seem passable nor like it led to an interest worth the attempt. Perhaps, an individual more inclined to test their balance would have appreciated the challenge. However, for me there was no conscious need to search, and so continuing to look freely my eyes focused without direction. What they found was a palate of color that seemingly incorporated the entire spectrum at once, while maintaining respect for each as an individual. Three walls stand up against the elevated southern part of the roof with a door welded shut, obviously a former access point for workers that didn't entail climbing up a fire escape. As I got closer the palate became a canvas, each step revealing vivid detail. Spray cans along the way were not just evidence of the mode, but part of the art left behind for the sake of being individuals being themselves. Together each individual expression gives life to collective narrativity. Something about the seclusion was inclusive. The overlap of colors made one person's art literally become the next yet, between each piece in the overlapping unity was a different amount of weathering reminding me that I was looking into a progression of time. Looking closely for a time was like reading a novel full of seamless chapters that gracefully swept through a final page that has yet to be written.
Last weekend, I went back to the rooftop and watched a sunset. It was my third visit, and this time I realized that both times since the first have been to fulfill a very specific longing that I can best describe as the understanding of a stranger. I leave feeling like I've had a conversation. Sometimes I look and listen, sometimes I look for a half full can say something myself. But I travel over a mile each way on foot, and get passed two fences before the fire escape. In many ways like pilgrimage I'm traveling to find common ground within humanity. I have shared in cultural practice with friends I will probably never meet, but we've done something for ourselves and each other. I can't think of the other artists as anything other than friends. How can I not call them friends after listening to their intimate thoughts when no one was around and then feeling comfortable enough to share my own. Maybe we've found something that helps us realized we're never alone as long as we can share ourselves and that it's okay to be different because none of us really want to be the same.
Trying to write down my experience from an academic perspective put me in the mindset of thinking about the psychology of memory in relation to pilgrimage given that I am well removed from the experience, but I can articulate and distinguish each for the very deeply rooted connections I made unique to each trip. Pilgrimage displays a willingness to give oneself over to practice or participation in the pursuit of healing. The pursuit of healing by way of seeking out a place is often marked by journey to a peaceful location. The pursuit of internal peace can be sought by observing nature. Using nature itself as a reminder of homeostasis and using the memory of traveling there as a landmark for future stability is a very intriguing psychological consideration
In every way we have gone over in class thus far, the old South Street Power Plant has evolved into a place of healing. The entire trip is a haptic experience in which my body and thought become connected to the surroundings. The geology is beyond doubt, the unusual sort. Looking southeast from the rooftop early one could watch sunrise from beneath the bay as if the entire ocean were nothing more than bedding or look northwest towards the skyline at night when the glowing buildings interact. The Providence River is formed by the confluence of the Woonasquatucket and Moshassuck rivers and connects to the Narragansett. Both Rivers and the Bay bear Native American names and represent the history of the land, but they left very little behind that would change the landscape dramatically. It seems collectively that humans forget to care about many things including each other sometimes and always have, but when I leave I'm plant I'm thinking about art. I usually notice that I've healing when walking back, the message of telling someone you do care seems like it always find a way to into existence and helps me believe that I have the power to change for the better.
My trips to the non-operational Narragansett Electric Power Plant involve body as site of identity, unusual geology, unusual material features and cultural practices, pilgrimage, and political inscriptions. I didn't mention earlier that in 1995 the building was donated to become a museum which was part of what ended up as a failed development project for the area, because it is impossible for me to see this place as a failure. Maybe it is important to remember that health will forever involve timing. A place may be perfect to provide growth, nourishment, and healing but if the place is not met with the right moment in time it has very little to offer. For example, if a farmer were to miss planting season it wouldn't matter much if he had 1 acre or 100 acres of land because none of his plants would grow were they not given the right circumstances to do so. The same may be true in regards to spiritual health. Vast emptiness where where windows once stood opens the building to sound coming from miles away. The sturdy walls perpetually encase reverberation and echoes. After a heavy rain when dripping water meets these echoes a silent man could hear a symphony, but that would be a matter of timing and circumstance.
Bibliography
http://providencedailydose.com/2012/06/18/ten-most-endangered-properties-—-dynamo-house/
http://www.heritageharbor.org/?id=13
http://www.artinruins.com/arch/?id=decay&pr=southstreet
http://www.preserveamerica.gov/6-25-04PAcommunity-providenceRI.html
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