christopher robbins bio | contact | links
The unexpected atoll of Flushtopia (2009).Douglas Paulson, Chris Domenick, Christopher Robbins, Chuck Yatsuk, Justin Rancourt, Gisela "Goose" Insaste, Elizabeth Tubergen, Emcee C.M., Master Of None, Eva La Cour, Jacob Goble, John Baca, Rachelle Beaudoin, and especial essential help from Brian Edwards, Dan Wright, Erin Sickler, Ethan Haymes, Kush, Luke Herron, Ryann Liebenthal, Sam Ekwurtzel, Serena Kuo, Steve Stollman, and Ward Shelley.
During the winter and spring of 2009, we made islands in Queens.
photo by sharp_shooter
It started in an Ice Rink: a grand, decrepit pile of sand and steel and tubes of strange pink coolant fluid, littered with old ice skates, dead pigeons, and boxes of Moby Dick coloring books. The rubber flooring laid down for ice skaters to walk on had crystallized into hard black chips that tinkled when you shuffled through them.
"This used to be the U.N."
"And before that, it was the New York Pavillion of the World's Fair."Then it became a roller skating rink, and then an ice rink. And now, it will become islands.
"Islands."This building was now slated to be gutted, but we got in there first. It had housed some Grand Old Futuristic utopias of the Past, and we wrangled it into our own scattered visions of utopia, piece by splintered soggy piece. We pulled insulating foam from the rink, strapped it to shipping crates, and built sloping platforms of grass on top. We strapped oil cans to "Lost Children" signs and "Not required to make change for bills larger than $5" and "No unauthorized instruction permitted." We made a tent-island, a rudimentary kitchen in a volcano, an island composed entirely of couches, and our own floating World's Fair re-creation. One island served as cautionary tale, and another was simply a hazard. We tried to stick to an ideal of individual utopias during this process, and a sprawling, chaotic, organically-grown atoll emerged. The first boats we were given to build on sank, and after dragging our submerged islands from the lake and trying again, with better floats, our makeshift anchors broke free and the islands washed ashore in a wind-battered "opening" that tested us all. But by the Spring, we had completed a sturdy set of islands, and the public began to take interest. We screened a movie, organized a camping trip, instigated boating expeditions, barbecues, even opened a floating speakeasy. Curious people began to devise their own plots for our islands, and the potential of our reclamation began to blossom. But not everyone appreciated the islands, or knew what they were for, and we learned that the sense of wonder we had wanted to cultivate by allowing these islands to emerge unnanounced (or, at least, unlabelled) in this lake was not something we could count on. Leaving things open means allowing for the unexpected, and while this made for serendipitous meetings and unexpected directions, in the end it came back to sink us. Enough people called 311 to complain that "homeless people have colonized Meadow Lake," that the Park's Department told us to remove our islands ahead of our agreed date. We knew this could be the beginning of something much more, so thought it best to be cooperative. So, we tore it all down, shoved it into a rented truck, and dumped the sodden, spiky mess back in the ice rink/U.N./World's Fair Pavillion from which it had emerged.
photo by rachelle beaudoin
photo by simple thrill
This project was part of the Queens Museum of Art 4th International Biennial, and the dream of Flushtopia lives on, currently spreading towards the Danube, the Pacific, and the Gowanus Canal. More photos here and some video here.