I got on the internet for the first time when I was but a teenager. Growing up in Montreal, my first connection to the information super highway was through the servers of McGill University. I remember the buzzing and ringing of my modem as it connected via the phone line. I remember how I had to wait in anticipation for my connection to be established so that I could speed up and down the roads of information. The internet was relatively new. But its novelty did not account for the excitement it generated. What was different about the internet was that for the first time, I had control over the information I could search for from a broader source. Sure, in the past you could pick up a book, or turn on the radio or TV. But now, this teenager was no longer limited by such passive media. My computer had become a means of getting to what I wanted to know about the intricacies of the wider world.
As I glance away from my screen and out the window of Katriina and Clerg’s 21 first floor apartment in the heart of Chicago, I see tall buildings. Many of them are illuminated at the top. The lights adorning these building tops give the impression that the buildings are speaking to each other: - “How are you Mr. Sears tower?” – “Very well, thanks, Mr. Hanckock Center.” Of course, they’re not really talking to each other. But perhaps I get this impression because I’m writing a blog entry. Like the cubist forms at the Art Institute of Chicago which structure the canvass images beneath them, my experience with communication structures my experience of the world.
The circles of my social networks, the blogosphere, the cloud of emails; they virtually surround and connect our world. The Chicagoan’s are no exception. In this “most American of big cities”, almost everyone has a smartphone which would allow them to check this blog entry as soon as it’s posted! Media events are created instantly and the news about them travels the world in mere minutes. If Michael Jordan were to release a Christmas duet album with John Cusack, or if Bill Murray were to go on tour with Kanye West, then we would know about it immediately. The sinewy metal ramps leading to the Cloud Gate are like the fiber optic cables transporting our Facebook pictures to the internet’s cloud. The sculpture reflects us standing in Millennium Park. But it is aptly named for a life in the millennium of information.
Under the giant silver bean, Riin Sirkel turns to show me a picture she just took. We notice Katriina and Clerg walking towards us. Our friends which have warmly welcomed us to this city are more than just Facebook friends. We are connected online and in person. But we are also connected by our past and by our values. We are friends because we share certain experiences and we share important beliefs about what is good and beautiful. We smile, and walk along the river bank admiring the marble lobbies and adornments of the buildings. Since our friends recently took us on an enlightening Chicago River cruise organized by the Architectural Society, we have learnt how to distinguish between architectural styles. So we now notice these architectural features more readily. Our eye is drawn from the river to the buildings, and back. But in between, there are divisions. Like the river which divides the land, the beautiful buildings also reflect the social divides of Chicago.
Chicagoans, like us, actively check our pocket computers when they ring. However, while completing our daily tasks, we often overlook the men and woman in the street pleading for our help. These people do not work in the most American of big cities. They are ejected from its pristine lobbies. They are not allowed stroll through its renowned Museums. They walk the streets like us. But they do not drive in the imported new cars that take us to our restaurants and bars.
Yesterday we had a wonderful dinner at a French restaurant for Katriina’s birthday. The food and decor were only surpassed by the company. After our meal, we ended up in bar where we saw some pretty scary costumes. The masks worn by the patrons reminded me of the divisions which separate us from seeing the needs of our fellow pedestrian.
In Chicago large buildings are built for profit. In some of these buildings people meet to purchase goods and services, yes, but also to converse. Often we met our friends in Chicago’s little coffee shops or large shopping centers. There we saw other people meeting and occasionally bumped into the odd stranger for a bit of small talk. The first few floors of many of the buildings here are reserved for commercial zones which, along with the parks and other public spaces, make such freer interactions possible.
The pervasiveness and grandeur of the Chicago skyline is immensely imposing. In this most American of big cities, I truly feel like an individual. The crowd of people walking around the sky-scrapping pillars of steel and glass leaves me with a feeling of anonymity and smallness beyond compare. I don’t think I feel this way simply because I’m a tourist here. I think the urban setting of many cities and common urban lifestyle currently leads us to personal alienation. However, in Chicago especially, I am just another city stroller, another tourist, another student, another businessperson, another cab driver, another salesperson, another homeless person. I am another, but I am not the other. I am removed. I am online, but disconnected.
Being here with Riin, Katriina, and Clerg (even though we’re all typing on our individual computers at the moment) has helped me bridge the gap between my information connectedness and my communal alienation in Chicago. Of course we’re facebook friends. But my hope is that, at some time, we will live with our cities as we live with our true friends.
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