Graphic by Reine Defranco/The Gazelle
I once saw Kobra’s graffiti of the famed Times Square kiss from Highline Park — in New York City. Alfred Eisenstaedt, the photographer who took the famous picture of the sailor kissing the nurse at the end of World War II, was coincidentally a student at NYU. Walking along New York’s Highline, I was always surrounded by skyscrapers and accompanied by the West Side Line, the train track that was almost demolished in the 1990s. It was hot and buzzing with people, from students studying in wooden sun chairs to mystics with improvised stands, peddling fortune readings.
Now, I’m in Abu Dhabi, and I live a few steps from the Highline — on the Saadiyat Island campus. The graffiti of V-J day kiss and the skyscraper’s sheathing effect is nowhere in sight; instead, there’s the occasional view of foreign window cleaners hanging from the five-story buildings that we call dorms. I say five-story because the other two stories are below the Highline. The Highline essentially splits our university into halves: the academic environments below and the living environments above. Like New York’s Highline, ours also serves the purpose of a recreational park — well, at least it tries. We have the sun chairs at the far West end of campus and an amphitheatre waiting to be used at the far East; we have the grass, which is able to grow in the desert thanks to the sprinklers that release a drop of water every second; we have a bunch of cement benches spread throughout, and often, there are different activities hosted on the Highline.
I like to think the reason our Highline is not as lively as New York’s is due to the excessive heat we live in. Sure, staying in our air-conditioned rooms prevents us from sweating as much, but right now I’d even go as far as to say that it’s cold! And yet, the Highline is barely used for purposes other than getting from one place to another.
Things to do in the Highline are abound. During the day, you can always borrow bean-bags and lie outside while studying. This can be complicated, because it feeds my procrastination too much. But hey, instead of using Facebook to chat, I get to actually face the people I chat with. This raises another problem: I don’t have the guts to fall asleep with my readings out there alone. I’m pretty sure if more people studied on the grass, I wouldn’t mind falling asleep, lost in the crowd. Pulling an all-nighter outside the A2 residence buildings and waiting for the campus cat to keep you company is another quintessential Highline experience. The constant coming and going of people assures you that you’re not the only one alive. At night, if you’re up for doing something but can’t think of anything, just wait for people going to fun events and casually tag along!
Nevertheless, our Highline doesn’t quite match up to New York’s.
As I mentioned before, the Highline serves the distinct purpose of separating the complex into residential and academic sections. This purpose is highlighted on NYU Abu Dhabi’s website, under the section, The Philosophy of Design: “It creates a semi-private realm that belongs to the residents. The landscaped quads are intimate spaces for relaxation and socializing.” If this is the Highline’s essential function, I think we, the residents, are failing to make it truly ours.
We’re still at a stage where we’re afraid of touching anything because we could stain the perfectly white walls of our school.
What I see from our Highline is not art by top-notch street artists like Kobra; instead, it’s the yellow and white buildings with windows arranged in cool, yet identical patterns. I’m not undermining the university’s modern design and architecture. I’m just saying that there’s something about Kobra’s art which you don’t get from staring at a perfect building, that could be on the cover of architectural magazine. In a school like ours, where art lies not just in its liberal arts title, but also in everyone’s lives, how can we be inspired? Is going to The Cube or the rooms inside the Arts Center the best way to view art? We have the art here and we have the artists, just like Eisenstaedt’s photograph that inspired Kobra — I don’t know what it is that makes us hide it. Is it the fear of interrupting the perfection in the architecture? If so, what could be better than leaving a mark that doesn’t fit the pattern? After all, we’re in a liberal arts college where the ability to think outside the box, and create perfection through differences, is valued over unquestioned exactitude.
Having moved from Sama to Saadiyat less than two years ago, NYUAD is still in the process of becoming less like a museum and more like home. We’re still at a stage where we’re afraid of touching or changing anything, because we could stain the perfectly white walls of our school. But why can’t we view these stains as marks of identity, perfect on their own? This university’s mission rests on the vision of Former President Sexton and the government of the UAE. As we’re often told, this is a vision-driven school, not one driven by history like the traditional colleges we know. It’s an experiment, a work in progress.
New York’s Highline used to be a train track that connected different parts of the city. It was only after the organization
Friends of the Highline envisioned its transformation into a cultural complex for the people, that this site became a landmark in New York. We have a Highline here. We have the resources and the intellect to make it succeed. Why not start?
Josefina Dumay Neder is deputy features editor. Email her at feedback@thegazelle.org.