CCTV: "Orange You Glad to See Me?"
“Orange You Glad To See Me?” is an intervention that aims to engage with a controlling system of visibility and power within the London Underground: the CCTV camera. As a faceless technology that allows for the constant surveillance of individual bodies and their actions within the Underground, these cameras embody a pervasive authority that regulates the space. An imbalance of power is produced here, as we can be seen by the anonymous person at the other end of the screen, but he or she cannot be seen by us. Although the apparatus is designed with our safety in mind, it operates as a means of control.
Have you ever been waiting on the platform and heard a disembodied voice projected across the space, addressing a specific person and instructing him to stop his unacceptable behavior—whatever it may be? In that moment, the presence of the invisible authoritative gaze (which, for theorist Michel Foucault, is a key element of disciplinary power) becomes revealed. Yet it also exposes the human behind the machine, serving as a reminder that there are real people receiving the footage that the cameras capture. Identifying CCTV as an integral part of the London Underground system and space—and interested in its dual technological/human and visible/invisible elements—we wondered: Who are the people watching us? How can we engage with them, emphasizing and exposing their (pervasive yet generally imperceptible) presence? And what would happen if we tried to use their means of power—the CCTV cameras—to communicate with them?
While this intervention is physically situated within Tube stations, it is also engaging a characteristic of the Underground system that externally impacts its physical space: the supposed rigidity of the TfL legislation. Through our research we found that every area of the Underground has vast legislation that ensures that the space is consistently regulated. This initially appeared to cause a lot of access issues for our project. Yet after carrying out physical research we encountered a number of staff members who were friendly and willing to use their best judgment to allow us to interact with the space. By using the CCTV cameras as an access point to begin a conversation, we aim to not only to enter into a dialogue with this one-sided means of visibility and control, but also to play with the regulations and the staff. We are attempting to address that, despite appearing to be rigid, there are interesting points in which the system can be broken in a non-violent way. We have located a gap where human and machine meet. Sometimes the staff members remain part of the machine, yet sometimes they come to play with us. We are interested in extending the invitation and finding out what kind of feedback happens.
In our attempts to speak to the TfL controllers on the other side of the cameras by addressing them through the cameras, we are subverting who has agency and power (of communication, in particular) in the space. Yet we are not interested in this being an antagonistic engagement, merely a revealing and playful one. They may adhere to the strict policies that have been written for this scenario, or they may agree to take part and become an actor in our performance/play our game. So we address them—visually, of course, with a large sign imprinted with text—with an invitation. An invitation to create feedback with us, to make their presence known. We address them with a question that begs an answer: “Knock Knock?”
Have you ever been waiting on the platform and heard a disembodied voice projected across the space, addressing a specific person and instructing him to stop his unacceptable behavior—whatever it may be? In that moment, the presence of the invisible authoritative gaze (which, for theorist Michel Foucault, is a key element of disciplinary power) becomes revealed. Yet it also exposes the human behind the machine, serving as a reminder that there are real people receiving the footage that the cameras capture. Identifying CCTV as an integral part of the London Underground system and space—and interested in its dual technological/human and visible/invisible elements—we wondered: Who are the people watching us? How can we engage with them, emphasizing and exposing their (pervasive yet generally imperceptible) presence? And what would happen if we tried to use their means of power—the CCTV cameras—to communicate with them?
While this intervention is physically situated within Tube stations, it is also engaging a characteristic of the Underground system that externally impacts its physical space: the supposed rigidity of the TfL legislation. Through our research we found that every area of the Underground has vast legislation that ensures that the space is consistently regulated. This initially appeared to cause a lot of access issues for our project. Yet after carrying out physical research we encountered a number of staff members who were friendly and willing to use their best judgment to allow us to interact with the space. By using the CCTV cameras as an access point to begin a conversation, we aim to not only to enter into a dialogue with this one-sided means of visibility and control, but also to play with the regulations and the staff. We are attempting to address that, despite appearing to be rigid, there are interesting points in which the system can be broken in a non-violent way. We have located a gap where human and machine meet. Sometimes the staff members remain part of the machine, yet sometimes they come to play with us. We are interested in extending the invitation and finding out what kind of feedback happens.
In our attempts to speak to the TfL controllers on the other side of the cameras by addressing them through the cameras, we are subverting who has agency and power (of communication, in particular) in the space. Yet we are not interested in this being an antagonistic engagement, merely a revealing and playful one. They may adhere to the strict policies that have been written for this scenario, or they may agree to take part and become an actor in our performance/play our game. So we address them—visually, of course, with a large sign imprinted with text—with an invitation. An invitation to create feedback with us, to make their presence known. We address them with a question that begs an answer: “Knock Knock?”