Object Orange

In his book, The Tipping Point, Malcolm Gladwell claims that the crime rate in New York City actually fell from it’s terrifying heights in the 1990’s because of a few very small but persistent efforts. One of these was based on the Broken Windows theory. The basic premise of the theory is this: when a neighborhood is fraught with broken windows— when a potential crime-doer is stepping over broken glass as they contemplate their next move— the overpowering atmosphere of chaos and despair acts as a kind of green light for wrongdoing.

However, when you make sure to repair windows as soon as they are broken (and Gladwell loops graffiti into this as well) you tamp down on the pervasive assumption that crime and chaos is OK. People are, somehow, less driven to act on the impulse to wreck havoc when things look neat. Some criminologists say that this is total lunacy. But as a person who cannot get any writing done without sweeping, doing the dishes and maybe even a quick mop, I have to say it makes a lot of sense. It doesn’t necessarily mean the end to unemployment or better infrastructure and it would, indubitably require funding, but hey, you’ve got to start somewhere.

Some aspect of this theory must have been at play when a group of Detroit artists got together to form Object Orange. The members of Object Orange paint abandoned, falling-down, decrepit houses BRIGHT ORANGE. These are houses that are potential safe havens for drug deals and prostitution. These are the houses that you don’t want to see in your grandmother’s neighborhood because every day, perfectly able-bodied, able-minded individuals walk out of them like zombies in a bad Spike-Lee-does-Sci-fi film. While the members of Object Orange don’t go so far as to clean up messes as the Broken Glass theory recommends, they attempt to draw attention to the messes that people in power have done their darndest to ignore.

This project kept reminding me of something… and today I remembered what it was. Once upon a time when I lived in Brooklyn, I got up early one morning and rode the metro to Central Park to see volunteers release pieces of orange fabric from a series of strategically placed poles so that Christo’s bright orange “Gates” could flap in the winter wind. Christo’s fabric must have been a very similar shade to DC1C-70-4, or “Tiggerific,” the Behr brand paint in the “Disney” line of colors that Object Orange uses to paint their abandoned homes.

Throughout his career, Christo has done what Object Orange looks to do: drawn attention to architectural objects that people have perhaps grown so accustomed to that they stop seeing them. Christo and his wife and partner Jeanne-Claude surrounded Pont Neuf, the Riechstag, a museum in Chicago, an island, and a coast, among other things, in fabric and something that looked, in one case, like pink plastic. It’s kind of like Philippe Petit reminding everyone that the World Trade Centers were the tallest skyscrapers in the world by tightrope walking between them.

New York, I remember, was abuzz with irritation after the Gates were unleashed. And as far as the Tiggerific houses are concerned—there is, if you look at the project without a lot of patience, something almost haughty about using conceptual art to make a social statement. Frank Gehry has tried to communicate social critique through his Los Angeles architecture for decades but this approach leaves far too much to the imagination. However, Object Orange’s technique is not merely decorative or particularly high concept: four of the eleven houses that Object Orange initially painted have been torn down. Even though one city official says this is a coincidence, it’s nice to think that this art has had direct impact on urban renewal.

Object Orange is initiating a process as simple as Sunday chores. Sweeping up is what Malcolm Gladwell has said may have brought New York City back to life. Gladwell, one of the smartest guys ever (he has some of the best hair ever too), and Object Orange (even if they’re just a bunch of art school punks) seem to be suggesting an age old bit of wisdom: slow and steady wins the race. I think that there are probably some other bits of age-old wisdom that could apply here as well, but my point is... if the city’s politicians stopped procrastinating what they must view as their most menial chore, they’d see that this chore in particular is not so menial after all.