Night Tide
Something that struck me about this last visit was that I had to reach out to friends to accompany me to the site; I had been approached in the daylight while crossing under the 5th Avenue Bridge by an older woman who had screamed, “Excuse me!! Excuse me! You need to let me pass you. If my two sons see you dressed like that they’re going to have a problem, then I’m going to have a problem.” The statement itself wasn’t an explicit threat, but something about its ambiguity left me unsettled.
I looked down at my tights, shorts, sweater and flannel ensemble and didn’t understand what the big deal was. The result of the interaction was that I became increasingly uncomfortable at the site by myself.
I met my friend Sascha and their dog, Hope, in the Thriftway parking lot. It was a moderate temperature and the sun had mostly vacated from the sky. The tide was the highest I had ever seen, nudged up against the bottom of the 4th Avenue Bridge. Many local organizations believe King Tides, the highest tides of the year, reveal a look into the history of sea level rise, and look a lot like the 4th Avenue Bridge during this visit.
There were people under the bridges on this trip accompanied by lights and settling in noises. We tried to move quickly so as not to disturb their privacy. This public space felt private at night. The more photos I took, the darker it got, and the more difficult a time the camera had capturing clear photos. I couldn’t identify most of the things around us unless their outline was illuminated by shadow. While visibility became more convoluted, the sounds of the ducks and birds was more defined as traffic was barely present. I don’t know that I would call it a trade off, but it was an interesting change in sensorial experience.
I thought more concretely about limits in regard to technology and safety, what is knowable, how to move in comfort in spaces that are undefined or novel. I didn’t have any conclusions.
