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I recently watched this documentary of the detroit house scene (http://www.youtube...atch?v=TCAY5L2zDtU) and of course it talks about how a form of Urban Exploration was actually a part of the whole creation of the genre. It got me thinking about how much a sort of “youth culture” had infiltrated my philosophy and artistic process without my even knowing it, especially when I first started exploring. In fact, it was something that had been around so long that it may as well have been the air I was breathing as a teenager.
There was one particular day, when we were exploring the Bureau of Mines in Minneapolis, when we happened upon two kids a couple of years younger than us. Before they knew we were there, we overheard them say the place would make for a great rave.
This was in 2007, when Rave culture had already been around for over a decade, which started in the warehouse parties in Detroit and Chicago, and was instrumental to the creation one of the most powerful music genres of our day, House music.
But warehouse parties were more than kids doing something mischievous. These were people who were actively subverting a culture of racism and classism. When it came time to hit the dancefloor, who gives a fuck about history. History was a story of oppression and disenfranchisement. For blacks, for gays, for other minorities. The dancefloor was where a new history was being created.
Looking back on my early days of so-called “Urban Exploration,” I am beginning to realize the many ways that systems of power have allowed me to explore the places I have. My fellow "heroes" and I would often joke about how there are no black Explorers, but we all knew the reason. My friends and I walked through buildings rich in histories we could only imagine, but seen through white eyes, the imaginings of history make for a tale of conquering and triumph. Who wouldn’t think fondly on such a tale?
The imaginings of history seen through darker eyes make for a much different tale. The “black Urban Explorers” are the ones who live on the street, who make shelter in the places where we snapped our photos. Not all, granted, as the homeless come in all shapes, sizes, and colors. But there is no doubt that the overwhelming majority of the homeless are african-american.
To me, it is the greatest of all black Urban Explorers, though, that decided to make a dancefloor in an abandoned warehouse.
To whoever that was, I tip my hat to you.
What I am, where I am, who I am, that I am, does not exist.
http://stevegahein.tumblr.com |
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Ethics
