by Jean Cozzens
During the month of March 2006, at the Fox Point Branch of the Providence Public Library, we built a giant cardboard city as a collaboration between a whole bunch of people, ranging in age from two through grandmother age. The outcome of the experiment was entirely unknown: introduce a bunch of scrap cardboard, hot glue, “conventional” glue, scissors and X-acto knives and duct tape, and boxes and boxes of fabric, junk, and random materials from the Recycling Center into a branch library that regularly serves as the vital after school hangout spot for kids from the Vartan Gregorian Elementary School down the street—with one local artist/designer as mediator, and three willing librarians as facilitators and cheering squad.
by Alex Lukas
“Who expected Rhode Island School of Design and Brown University students, my god, you think they’d teach them a little more than that for the $25,000 in tuition they pay. You think they’d teach them a little more than to go to a pagan ritual and light a fire in a tunnel.”
Buddy Cianci, Mayor of Providence, May 2nd, 1993.
The RISD Tunnel is a setting for innumerable stories, a lot of rumors, and a few legends; any number of which, in all three categories, are pure bullshit. Rumors fly anytime there are shadows, and if there is one thing the Tunnel has a lot of, it’s pitch-black darkness. Talk of vampires, secret passages, giant rats, hidden entrances in East Side backyards and compromises to the structural city above are commonplace amongst those who talk of “the hole under Providence.” Both ends of the tunnel are sealed tight today (if anyone feels qualified to write a “How to Open a Door That’s Been Welded Shut” article, holla), trapping inside what was left of countless adventures, leaving us with only our memories. Everyone who has ever been there has their own, and for a certain generation, the very mention of the tunnel brings up one legendary story: the Riot.
by Gilligan Warmer