The Poorly Planned Planning Meeting
By Ed Woodam
I have a decades-long relationship with 14th Street. In the 1980s, it was a bustling boulevard of electronics shops, wig stores, inexpensive clothing and luggage, and old-school mom-and-pop businesses. Fourteenth Street is the beginning of the Manhattan grid. Back in those days, everything below 14th Street was cool and hip; above it, passé and blasé. Every autumn for 21 years, I’ve produced an independent visual and performance arts festival, Art in Odd Places, along the full length of 14th Street ─ from Avenue C to the Hudson ─ without permits. The festival began after 9/11 when 14th Street became a barricade for weeks following the towers’ collapse.
Over time, the Meatpacking District shifted dramatically as its industrial roots declined, giving way to high-end boutiques, fashion houses, and trendy nightlife. In the early days, I approached the Union Square Business Improvement District (BID) about the festival and was brushed off with what felt like disgust. We weren’t polished enough, and there was no official city sponsorship. Yet in 2024, while sitting at our eastside festival information table in front of the 14th Street Y near First Avenue, I was approached by a representative from the Union Square BID. She wanted to know who we were, why we hadn’t contacted them before producing the festival this year and — most pointedly — where our permits were.
Fast forward to March 25, 2026 when I, my friend (who has also spent decades producing public art events officially with permits in New York City), and many others arrived at the second-floor space at Pratt Manhattan for what we believed would be the first public presentation (with slideshow and talks) for the city’s 14th Street Plan. The event was scheduled to run from 4 to 7 p.m. I had filled out an online survey beforehand, answering questions about our relationship with 14th Street, what areas we frequented, our concerns, and suggestions for improvements. We came expecting a structured conversation about the corridor’s future.
What we found instead was chaos. When we arrived, there was no one at the front entrance to direct attendees. A table had been set up away from the door, but the crowd that gathered around it felt off-putting, unwelcoming, and disorganized. Having mobility issues, I walked straight into the room and took a seat to the right of the entrance. Tables were scattered around the room. Each was surrounded by groups of people, many of whom appeared confused about what they were supposed to do. There were no maps of the space, no posted agenda, and no one to explain how the event would proceed.
From my vantage point, I could see the disorder unfolding. People milled about in small groups or alone, asking what the meeting was for, when presentations would begin, and what they were supposed to do. I approached a representative from the Meatpacking District Management Association (MDMA) – a young woman I assumed would know something. She was the social media strategist. I asked, “What’s going on?” She shrugged and said, “I’m not really sure. I think people at the different tables are talking about 14th Street things.” I then asked, “Is anyone going to speak?” She replied, “I’m not sure.”
Nearby, I saw a man wearing a Union Square Partnership (USP) badge. I asked him, “What time does this end?” He replied, “I’m not sure…I’m here working until 8 p.m.” It was difficult to watch. Confused couples, groups, and solo residents wandered in, paused for a few minutes, scratched their heads, and left. Some stayed longer, trying to engage at tables or with staff, only to give up when no one could provide a clear answer. Over the course of an hour, I watched more than 40 people enter, glance around, and then exit, bewildered. The sense of miscommunication and lack of organization was palpable.
Eventually, I met Soledad from the Department of Transportation (DOT). She was kind and delightful, and when I asked who was in charge, she pointed to Emily Weidenhof, assistant commissioner of public realm at NYC DOT, previously director of public space. Weidenhof plays a key role in transforming NYC streets into pedestrian-focused, sustainable spaces, managing Open Streets, pedestrian plazas, and other initiatives. When Soledad brought Weidenhof over to meet me, I mentioned Art in Odd Places. She had never heard of it. Still, she kindly shared her contact information and later Soledad returned with Weidenhof’s business card.
Despite finally meeting a person in authority, my friend and I ultimately decided to leave. There were no printed materials, no clear explanation of the process, no maps, no schedule, and no guidance on what the city hoped to accomplish. The so-called “community workshop” felt like a loosely organized fair with no agenda or purpose, leaving residents and stakeholders to navigate the chaos on their own.
This experience reflects a familiar pattern. Institutions, city agencies, and others host public meetings to involve the community, ostensibly inviting residents to contribute to planning and policy. But in reality, these exercises are superficial. Plans are made behind closed doors, and the public is left to observe powerlessly. The city’s 14th Street Plan, which promises “permanent transit, streetscape enhancements, and public space improvements” to link parks, transit hubs, and institutions, risks alienating the very people it claims to engage if its workshops continue to be this disorganized.
Community engagement requires more than surveys, tables, and goodwill. It demands thoughtful organization, clear communication, and respect for the lived experiences of those who have long called 14th Street home. Residents, business owners, and artists who have invested decades in the corridor deserve transparency, clarity, and an opportunity to meaningfully contribute – not a spectacle of confusion.
