The Internal Retreat From Shared Public Space
by Wendy Richmond
Between the years 1938 and 1941, Walker Evans surreptitiously photographed riders on the New York City subway. The resulting book is the recently re-released Many Are Called. In the foreword Luc Sante wrote, “The subway is a neutral zone in which people are free to consider themselves invisible; time spent commuting is a hiatus from social interaction. Since the protocols of subway-riding advise turning your gaze inward, you can take off the face you wear for the benefit of others…”
That inward gaze was a self-contained contradiction. It was a way of being alone together. It was a kind of communal separateness, a community of individuals respecting one another’s private space.
After looking at the photographs in Evans’s book, my own next subway ride was a study in human interaction (or lack thereof). I was curious: has the “hiatus from social interaction” changed in the past 65 years? Is this retreat into a personal zone the same as it was more than a half century ago?
The facial expressions I saw looked quite similar to those in the book, especially the inward gaze. Of course the clothes and accessories were different; in particular, the ubiquitous hat was replaced by two thin wires coming from each ear, joining in a V at the chest, then disappearing into a pocket or backpack.
But there was another, more subtle difference. When the train stopped and we all resumed our conscious place in public, the people with the iPods were still in their private space. Sure, they were no longer in that daydream zone, but neither had they rejoined the public space. They retained their separation. When they reached the top of the stairs and regained cell phone coverage, they (and many others) speed-dialed and retreated further still.
Like the subway riders in 1938, we are still individuals who lose ourselves in thought in the most public of places. But as we add new and enhanced technology to our daily wear, the gaze has shifted to a more distant place.
Now, as I encounter the ubiquitous technology, carried as faithfully as a previous generation wore their hats, I wonder: How does our personal technology affect the ways we occupy, experience and participate in the public sphere? Do we use personal technology as a form of retreat—intentional or not—from the physical, public space?
That inward gaze was a self-contained contradiction. It was a way of being alone together. It was a kind of communal separateness, a community of individuals respecting one another’s private space.
After looking at the photographs in Evans’s book, my own next subway ride was a study in human interaction (or lack thereof). I was curious: has the “hiatus from social interaction” changed in the past 65 years? Is this retreat into a personal zone the same as it was more than a half century ago?
The facial expressions I saw looked quite similar to those in the book, especially the inward gaze. Of course the clothes and accessories were different; in particular, the ubiquitous hat was replaced by two thin wires coming from each ear, joining in a V at the chest, then disappearing into a pocket or backpack.
But there was another, more subtle difference. When the train stopped and we all resumed our conscious place in public, the people with the iPods were still in their private space. Sure, they were no longer in that daydream zone, but neither had they rejoined the public space. They retained their separation. When they reached the top of the stairs and regained cell phone coverage, they (and many others) speed-dialed and retreated further still.
Like the subway riders in 1938, we are still individuals who lose ourselves in thought in the most public of places. But as we add new and enhanced technology to our daily wear, the gaze has shifted to a more distant place.
Now, as I encounter the ubiquitous technology, carried as faithfully as a previous generation wore their hats, I wonder: How does our personal technology affect the ways we occupy, experience and participate in the public sphere? Do we use personal technology as a form of retreat—intentional or not—from the physical, public space?
Lamps set up
