As distracting as the teeming masses of humanity that collide on the streets of New York each day can be, I still find myself craning up or down, seeking insight into the mysteries of life lived so transparently in towers, or the secret spaces below that knit together the services that sustain them.
I’ve often heard the comment that one shouldn’t look up, as it marks you as tourist and makes you an easy target for the slick-fingered. But I feel like an outsider most times and still have yet to meet someone who has fallen victim to a pickpocket. Given the banality of much of the street-level services, entrances to buildings given over to unfortunate awnings, various storefront metal enclosures, and rafts of merchandising, wanting to know the buildings themselves requires distance and a willingness to look provincial.
Seeing below only requires an embrace of the slight dementia one projects when staring pointedly into a grate or opening briefly revealed. Such diligence reveals sights that are quite amazing. On Bleecker Street, just west of Mercer, one can see an amazing subterranean support area for an NYU facility — or used to be able to; I walked by to verify the location, and for the life of me I can’t find it, leading me to believe that some security fears have eliminated it (any better directions here are welcome). While it was still visible, it appeared that the furthest visible point was at least four stories down. Over on 4th Avenue, several of the ancillary space of the Lexington Avenue line are visible just north of Astor Place.
These vistas are a permanent possibility on any given night. Construction provides a whole other level of insight, albeit a more fleeting one. To get an understanding of the impact of bedrock on construction in Midtown — aside from convenience to regional transit and other socio-economic interrelations, one of the reasons Midtown became so dense with towers is the presence of bedrock in exceptional quantity — go look at the site for the new Times tower on 8th Avenue and 41st Street, where literally just below surface level excavation equipment is clawing at bedrock every day in preparation for the coming tower.
The revelation of complexity that hides between the buildings requires a rare moment of street opening. So there are holes, and then there are superlatives of holes, such as can be found at the intersection of Stanton and Chrystie Streets. I consider myself something of a connoisseur of such sites, and this one is awe-inspiring. A temporary street crosses the opening, with the cut visible on both sides, showing a network of suspended cables, conduits, supply lines, and temporary bracing. Far below is what appears to be a disused platform that is part of the Chrystie Street connector of the IND. The only other possibility is that it is the southern tip of the proposed ‘East Houston’ stop of the Second Avenue line. I don’t know enough about the locations of some of the photos available of the completed portions to speculate with any accuracy. But for those who are more adventurous, not only is this a hell of a thing to see, but there is also a readily accessible ladder — a quick hop over some fencing, and you could be in. It’s a quiet enough area, and, aside from having to scale down some thirty feet rather obviously, there is plenty cover the further one gets from street level. I can’t imagine this area is completely free from oversight, but it sure looked empty on a Saturday evening.
Even if you aren’t the spelunking kind, seeing this is a fascinating explication of how we manage to keep all the pieces in place. I’ve noted that my obsession with infrastructure came at the knee of David Macaulay, and this intersection looks more like a page from Underground than I have come across in ten years. Knowing it’s not the sort of thing that provides the same kind of charge as waiting in line for Crash Mansion, I don’t recommend it unreservedly. But if it’s the kind of thing you go for, don’t miss it. And if you are more ballsy than I when it comes to flouting the propriety — well, legality — of further exploration, please send me any evidence or stories.
NB: I’ve avoided using imagery in the course of posting, mostly because I’d rather not have an image substitute for the lived experience. But words can bserve the same vicarious function, so I’ll occassionally provide a visual supplment. Click here to view some mediocre images.
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I’ve got a hole in my pocket.
As distracting as the teeming masses of humanity that collide on the streets of New York each day can be, I still find myself craning up or down, seeking insight into the mysteries of life lived so transparently in towers, or the secret spaces below that knit together the services that sustain them.
I’ve often heard the comment that one shouldn’t look up, as it marks you as tourist and makes you an easy target for the slick-fingered. But I feel like an outsider most times and still have yet to meet someone who has fallen victim to a pickpocket. Given the banality of much of the street-level services, entrances to buildings given over to unfortunate awnings, various storefront metal enclosures, and rafts of merchandising, wanting to know the buildings themselves requires distance and a willingness to look provincial. Seeing below only requires an embrace of the slight dementia one projects when staring pointedly into a grate or opening briefly revealed. Such diligence reveals sights that are quite amazing. On Bleecker Street, just west of Mercer, one can see an amazing subterranean support area for an NYU facility — or used to be able to; I walked by to verify the location, and for the life of me I can’t find it, leading me to believe that some security fears have eliminated it (any better directions here are welcome). While it was still visible, it appeared that the furthest visible point was at least four stories down. Over on 4th Avenue, several of the ancillary space of the Lexington Avenue line are visible just north of Astor Place. These vistas are a permanent possibility on any given night. Construction provides a whole other level of insight, albeit a more fleeting one. To get an understanding of the impact of bedrock on construction in Midtown — aside from convenience to regional transit and other socio-economic interrelations, one of the reasons Midtown became so dense with towers is the presence of bedrock in exceptional quantity — go look at the site for the new Times tower on 8th Avenue and 41st Street, where literally just below surface level excavation equipment is clawing at bedrock every day in preparation for the coming tower. The revelation of complexity that hides between the buildings requires a rare moment of street opening. So there are holes, and then there are superlatives of holes, such as can be found at the intersection of Stanton and Chrystie Streets. I consider myself something of a connoisseur of such sites, and this one is awe-inspiring. A temporary street crosses the opening, with the cut visible on both sides, showing a network of suspended cables, conduits, supply lines, and temporary bracing. Far below is what appears to be a disused platform that is part of the Chrystie Street connector of the IND. The only other possibility is that it is the southern tip of the proposed ‘East Houston’ stop of the Second Avenue line. I don’t know enough about the locations of some of the photos available of the completed portions to speculate with any accuracy. But for those who are more adventurous, not only is this a hell of a thing to see, but there is also a readily accessible ladder — a quick hop over some fencing, and you could be in. It’s a quiet enough area, and, aside from having to scale down some thirty feet rather obviously, there is plenty cover the further one gets from street level. I can’t imagine this area is completely free from oversight, but it sure looked empty on a Saturday evening. Even if you aren’t the spelunking kind, seeing this is a fascinating explication of how we manage to keep all the pieces in place. I’ve noted that my obsession with infrastructure came at the knee of David Macaulay, and this intersection looks more like a page from Underground than I have come across in ten years. Knowing it’s not the sort of thing that provides the same kind of charge as waiting in line for Crash Mansion, I don’t recommend it unreservedly. But if it’s the kind of thing you go for, don’t miss it. And if you are more ballsy than I when it comes to flouting the propriety — well, legality — of further exploration, please send me any evidence or stories. NB: I’ve avoided using imagery in the course of posting, mostly because I’d rather not have an image substitute for the lived experience. But words can bserve the same vicarious function, so I’ll occassionally provide a visual supplment. Click here to view some mediocre images.