ISLAND OF ISLANDS
It seems as if history repeats itself at the narrow peninsula
of Coney Island where the strange juxtaposition of enclosed escapist realms was
cleared once again. Quintessentially a natural refuge for the people of the
ever-denser Manhattan, with its wide shores, salt marshes and the exceptionally
large population of rabbits – or konijnen in Dutch – that gave it its name, the
island soon had to cope with an overpopulation of people instead. The island
had to transform itself into something new to keep on offering a place of
escape and refuge; it became something super-natural. It turned itself into the total opposite of nature to counteract the artificiality of the metropolis. New closed-off islands take shape: Steeplechase Park, Luna
and Dreamland, their extra-terrestrial, highly artificial and fragile
atmospheres shielded from their surroundings. At the same time another
locked-off world is created a little further: Sea Gate, a private gated
community of single-family homes, equally turning its back to its neighbors.
The mere geographical and natural separation of the island no longer suffices
to escape from the metropolis; new small realms are formed in its interior, all
carrying that spirit of stepping outside the every-day life. However, the ‘End
of the World’ attraction of Dreamland literally becomes this world’s end when
it short-circuits in May 1911 and starts a fire that burns Dreamland to the
ground. Three years later Luna Park too goes up in flames. A lone rollercoaster
stands in the ashes of the cleared ‘super-natural’: a first clearance in its
history. The gap is rapidly closed by city planner Robert Moses when he creates
new un-natural enclaves by transforming fifty percent of Coney Island into
parks.
However, in October 2012 the shores of the island were once
again swept clean, this time by Hurricane Sandy. The remaining fun fair was
once more heavily hit, leaving the rollercoaster in the middle of a sea of
water this time. Sea Gate was struck by an equal force of water that swept
through many of the beach houses. But something else has also happened: the
artificial barriers, protecting the ‘super-natural’ inside, have been breached,
blurring the escapist ambitions of one realm with those of another. The
‘naturally restored’ dunes of the Coney Island Creek Park shifted and buried
the delineating fence of Sea Gate – and the lower levels of some houses –
erasing this once so sharp border. Yet perhaps even stronger breaches were
slashed in the social barriers, bringing alienated neighbors back together in the recovery afterwards. Perhaps some bridges will remain between the
islands, even if the ever-shifting sands reveal the physical barriers once
more.
Thomas Willemse
April 2013
