HOUSE OF CARDS
Photograph by Athena Azevedo
As an artist I keep to myself and try to work without attracting attention. I use my camera to capture images and take them away discreetly. Art is my shield — I disappear quickly, leaving no trace of myself. House of Cards was the complete opposite experience; one I never imagined I would be a part of.
Scavenging for materials out of trash piles on remote streets was fine. Scouting the right location for the installation was easy. But once it was time to set down roots and establish a physical presence, anxiety set in. I felt a real fear of being told that what we were doing was wrong; that we had to stop. Part of me almost wished someone would tell us to stop so that this fear of confrontation could be addressed.
As we began to work the community came to meet us, and that fear quickly dissipated. People I expected to be upset were instead wonderfully supportive. Rather than see us as intruders or vandals, they supported our work and praised the fact that we were physically creating something new. Ultimately, our neighbors did much more than just approve: they also contributed pieces of their own homes.
Through the lens of this heartfelt response, the House of Cards transformed from something unauthorized to a moment that felt like it belonged to everyone.
As I look at images of the installation now, I do not think, “I created that.” I was a part of realizing a response that deserved to exist. It does not belong to TJ, Athena, the FRRF or myself. House of Cards is a piece of the new Far Rockaway landscape that we encouraged into existence; a symbol with whatever meaning you bring to it.
It belongs to no one and everyone.
—Vanessa Gonzalez-Bunster