The Death and Life of the Digital City

The technology isn’t astounding. It isn’t really virtual space as there is no real attempt to blur the boundaries between the player and the world of the game. But, it stands in for space; it takes the place of space. Everything is recognizable in the ways Monopoly pieces are recognizable. The little silver shoe. Green houses and red hotels. But simply by borrowing these symbols, it invites us to behave like we might as if we were moving through space. Moving through the Sims world, we apply what we already know and so endow spatial behavior onto these new artificial spaces. You log into a chat room, but “meet” in a friends Sims family room. And never having played the Sims I have all sorts of questions. Can you get from one place to anyplace else in the same amount of time? Is there separation in the online world, locations that are better than others because of they are closer to the trendiest players, the most exciting neighbors? If there is distance, is there time and do these things have value?

Would an online Barnes and Noble that allowed you to approach the shelves and scan the spines of books be more appealing and more lucrative than Amazon’s numbered lists. Could you rummage through piles of goods spread thick on tables on a redesigned EBay? And what of my own field? Could the internet be littered with digital versions of real buildings, advertising the accomplishments of their architects? Might they not include everything that was cut from the building to save time and money? And possibly, would they not compete with the buildings on the other side of the screen.

A scenario.
A digital camera; a series of sensors. One could map one’s own habitation of his own house onto the online world. Like in the real world, squatting outside a window would provide a show. But what if one entered the digital house and began to participate in actions simultaneously underway offline? How could these virtual responses to real actions affect that life? First, it’s a conceptual art project. But after being assimilated, it’s a consumer’s toy and finally a familiar piece of daily routine. A bored fashion student in New York could help you get dressed in the morning. An insomniac in Bangalore could let you know you added too much salt to your korma.

Why would anyone ask for these intrusions? Immediacy. When impatient, I don’t want to have to wait for email, check my inbox, or wait for the next post to a friend’s blog. On lonelier days, I want the interruption and the chance to feel the impact of another on my life. It’s the impulse that makes me want to turn a storefront into a home—my own home—and drink beer on my porch while watching the street. Sims is for the introverted flaneurs of the digital world who come to life walking on pixilated streets. And it’s only a matter of time before Jane Jacobs picks up her pen again to write an addendum to “The Death and Life of Great American Cities.” There will be many new sets of eyes on these streets, but they’ll be looking from across the world.