Say We Meet 05

Maraya is critical. It is about how cities move, about how the ground beneath our feet is in constant motion. Let's call this a new urban waterfront. Maraya is about how one idea is picked up, transported halfway around the world, and how it has sucked us into its wake. Maraya is critical of a city that was released too early. The beta version of a simple idea, the one idea that got away, growing in complexity with time, used and reused. Maraya is reflection and dialogue about this process.  It is pause to think about how our city is always already someone else's city. Pause to think about about how we infect or infected by one small set of ideas of home—the where  the what  and too often the how. Maraya is wonders who else is traveling with this idea. It looks for patterns of neighbourliness. Seeks opportunities for you to meet your neighbours. To share hopes and dreams and fears, as we wait for the bus, take shelter from the rain, escape the heat. Maraya loves the grid. It remembers that Ponzi sheme and systemANTICs, the unfortunate validity of Gall's law—Murphy's Law and Peter Principle: #30: The Vector Theory of Systems: Systems run better when designed to run downhill. Let's call it Vancouverism. Let's call it another new "new urbanism." Let's call it False Creek. Let's Dubai? Let's call it luxury within reach? Almost. For some.  Let's call it desert heat? Let's call it a rainforest? Let's link these with a global seawall or marina walk. Maraya imagines a network of actors: thinkers and artists, urbanites and cultural workers, tourists and soldiers, security guards and ticket takers, workers and labour brokers, walkers and joggers, cyclists and baristas, weekend skippers, misguided travelers, lost souls, newly weds, and all the many new parents. Maraya's shiny surfaces glimpse many paths. They track our movements and those that flow around us. Maraya is a home with the rhythmic meshing of gears—one city grinds into another, cities become one machine. New Capital. Maraya is critical but it resists easy cynicism the non-object, questions the politics of its own discursive artifice. It resists the proliferating posts, knee-jerk positionally, an artworld addicted to essentialized notions of agency, of labour, of "cultural production," of discourse and things. Maraya seeks conversations about relational architecture and downtime. Maraya sets out to talk with anyone and everyone. It dreams of engagement, activations that move us beyond mouse-click participation, trickle down democracy.  Maraya learns to study up, finding a counterpoint to the giddy movements of a newly mobile cadre of elite designers, architectures and planners pressed into dreaming, decorating the new city. Self declaimed artists of the new city.  It is about the frame a window makes, about the millions of windows that frame quotidian desire. Weekend rituals and daily constitutionals performed beneath whose voracious stare? It is a commitment to track the development of two specific cities, two sites that are so near it is far out. Reading into the trails of discarded coffee cups and boarding passes, sim cards and business care, Maraya looks down to see what's up . A proposition, a wager, an offering and beginning. Maraya longs. Its images are silent, call. It thinks you might have more to say, and responds accordingly. Since you asked, Maraya is critical.