TERRAIN VAGUE : DETROIT (West Village)
Terrain Vague [Empty Space] began as a performance-excavation of one square block, between Main and Spring,
Second and Third, in Downtown Los Angeles, where I lived in the 1910 Higgins Building, a block from City Hall. Unceded Gabrielino-Tongva land. I discovered a modern history resplendent with the stories of powerful denizens of early LA — mostly unknown, mostly women — who lived and worked here. During COVID, when I couldn't tour, I made and recorded a series of short performance pieces, based on what I found.
In June of 2023, my partner Marty and I moved to Detroit. For a bunch of reasons, some of which were conscious. One: Marty was born and raised here, and it had become ever more difficult for us to care for his mother and sister, who were entrenched Detroiters. Two: We had spent significant stretches of time here and love Detroit. Three: We fell upon a house in West Village that we loved, that we could afford, with a yard, a garden, and ancient trees. And four: We were ready for a different kind of life.
The phrase terrain vague (French: idiomatically, "empty lot") was coined by the Spanish architect Ignasi de Solà-Morales to celebrate the unbridled possibility of empty space — absence / availability !! — at the center of a metropolis. Having applied it to empty space at the heart of my home in LA, I came here knowing that Detroit — a city that was once home to two million, now less than seven hundred thousand, holds massive swaths of empty lots — former neighborhoods — each bit of it with its own meaning, and possibility.
Solà-Morales writes that before plans, before blueprints, before permits, anything is possible.
My performance work is a mashup of deep research and stuff I make up. I was an actress who told the stories of others. When I moved from New York to Los Angeles, where I spent a good part of my childhood, I got curious about the history of my father's family. There were secrets I knew I needed to know, in order to move forward.
Same with these bits of land around the corner from where we live in West Village. There are empty lots, abandoned structures. They are "available" for us to imagine into. Who lived, worked there? What are they now? What happened? What, if anything, do their owners intend? What could/should they become?
We'll offer live walking tour/performances in the fall. To reach an ongoing audience, individual sites are marked with durable plaques offering the story of the place. A QR code links to video of my performance about the place. We'll invite visitors to leave thoughts, drawings, ideas about what the place could be here. I'll gather and post their thoughts on this site.
Terrain Vague [Empty Space] began as a performance-excavation of one square block, between Main and Spring,
Second and Third, in Downtown Los Angeles, where I lived in the 1910 Higgins Building, a block from City Hall. Unceded Gabrielino-Tongva land. I discovered a modern history resplendent with the stories of powerful denizens of early LA — mostly unknown, mostly women — who lived and worked here. During COVID, when I couldn't tour, I made and recorded a series of short performance pieces, based on what I found.
In June of 2023, my partner Marty and I moved to Detroit. For a bunch of reasons, some of which were conscious. One: Marty was born and raised here, and it had become ever more difficult for us to care for his mother and sister, who were entrenched Detroiters. Two: We had spent significant stretches of time here and love Detroit. Three: We fell upon a house in West Village that we loved, that we could afford, with a yard, a garden, and ancient trees. And four: We were ready for a different kind of life.
The phrase terrain vague (French: idiomatically, "empty lot") was coined by the Spanish architect Ignasi de Solà-Morales to celebrate the unbridled possibility of empty space — absence / availability !! — at the center of a metropolis. Having applied it to empty space at the heart of my home in LA, I came here knowing that Detroit — a city that was once home to two million, now less than seven hundred thousand, holds massive swaths of empty lots — former neighborhoods — each bit of it with its own meaning, and possibility.
Solà-Morales writes that before plans, before blueprints, before permits, anything is possible.
My performance work is a mashup of deep research and stuff I make up. I was an actress who told the stories of others. When I moved from New York to Los Angeles, where I spent a good part of my childhood, I got curious about the history of my father's family. There were secrets I knew I needed to know, in order to move forward.
Same with these bits of land around the corner from where we live in West Village. There are empty lots, abandoned structures. They are "available" for us to imagine into. Who lived, worked there? What are they now? What happened? What, if anything, do their owners intend? What could/should they become?
We'll offer live walking tour/performances in the fall. To reach an ongoing audience, individual sites are marked with durable plaques offering the story of the place. A QR code links to video of my performance about the place. We'll invite visitors to leave thoughts, drawings, ideas about what the place could be here. I'll gather and post their thoughts on this site.
