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October 6, 2003
Spectacle in Atlanta
Anne Galloway's comments on John Thackara's discussion of the post-spectacular city remind me of Atlanta, specifcally my morning commute into Georgia Tech, when I glance out the window of the elevated train as it smoothly tracks over abandoned spaces (some of which are now being retro-fitted as loft apartments). The train window, with the dimensions of a movie screen (or, coincidentally, a postcard), frames the distant skyline much like a tracking shot in a film, creating a strange distance (aura) that always translates the city into an image. This sense of Atlanta as image originally became distinct for me in the mid-1990s, when Atlanta began "cleaning up" for the Olympics. An attractive facade along the Interstate highways hid the city's disenfranchised populations, many of whom were literally displaced by venues for the Olympics. It still persists, especially as the city attempts to refashion itself through all of the city's urban renewal projects.
Like Anne, I have serious doubts about how it is possible to get beyond the spectacle:
What remains most unclear to me is how all of this will create a "post-spectacular" city - one in which we move beyond commodified experiencesThe "semiotic pollution" that Thackara describes has less to do with a so-called "creative class" than with a cultural logic hellbent on capturing and containing the attention of the individual subject. In fact, instead of saying that "the creative class has optimised the society of the spectacle," it might be better to say that spectacular society has "optimised" the creative class. Atlanta, for example, continues to hide its own past (both recent and long term) as well as any city I know...
This concept of the spectacular city--and its "semiotic pollution"--comes back to me when I walk from the subway station to my office when I walk past a small tower, probably 8-10 storeys at most, situated beside the "downtown connector," the interstate highway that runs through the center of the city. From the street, the tower offered the glorious dream of a visually fascinating city in its status as both object (the tower as object to be looked at) and subject (the tower as vantagepoint for looking at the city) of a gaze. The building now sits abandoned, a locked gate preventing admission. If you look carefully through the glass doors, you can still see the advertising fliers promoting various tourist attractions around the city.
What strikes me about the image of this tower is its status as a relic from Atlanta's recent past, especially as it is connected to the Olympic dream of international harmony. I'm not quite sure how to bring these points back around to Anne's discussion of the spectacle, which leads me to believe that I'm trying to fit a square peg into a round hole, but I think I see the tower as a small fissure in the city's image, but it's a fissure or gap that I might never see without the benefit of walking (rather than driving) past it every day on my way to work.
Posted by chuck at October 6, 2003 1:08 AM
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Comments
Perhaps on a different thread (not so much about spectacle): For me, Atlanta, and to some extent the South in general, always seems to be putting on a show for some imagined visitor from somewhere else. Thus, all the anxiety about what it means to be southern, the Jeff Foxworthy "You might be a redneck..." schtick, the cornily named "Kudzu Cafe."
When I returned to post-Olympics Atlanta after several years away, this feeling had just gotten even stronger.
Posted by: George at October 7, 2003 11:25 AM
I think you're right. Atlanta always seems to be waiting for company. The connection to Foxworthy makes a lot of sense....
Posted by: chuck at October 7, 2003 2:30 PM