The American Works answered one brief on open land. The City Works answers a harder one: the same machines and the same warmth, woven into a city that already exists. Seven addresses take seven kinds of ground a city already has. A whole block, with a garden at its heart. A public square, warm enough that the snow never settles, with the baths beneath it. A railway viaduct nobody used, with a mile of glass along its top. A river crossing you walk in shirtsleeves in January. The ground under a station, so the concourse is a winter garden that is never dark and never closed. One slender site in the skyline, a tower of gardens lit from within. And at midnight, the tallest tower downtown, hollowed from the ground to the crown, with the sky inside.
It is one January day. The walk begins at first light at the Block and ends at midnight in the High-Rise, and each address is entered through its own door: a gold arch drawn where the picture’s own door stands, grown until the world inside is the whole picture. On the exhibition page you can take the whole walk, or pull one line to change the hour for all seven at once. Each address has a room, with the door between its two pictures, the same spot in the other light, and the same ground as it is today.
There are eight films: one for each address, a minute long, in which each picture holds and then comes alive, and One Day in the City, which carries the day. They are in the screening room, with captions.
As before, every picture and film is imagined with AI and says so. The addresses are proposals, not planned projects, and the city is no real city. What is real is on the receipts: the places where a piece of this already stands.
This is how the site will grow from here: one campaign a season, each with a theme of its own inside the one idea, and each staying open after the next one begins. The campaigns page says what is showing now and what came before.