/ How it turned out?
Basically, we created prototypes of projects and solutions. Due to the time limit, we only managed to test each idea, and some of them even had to be rejected.
We created navigation with maps for visitors and placed them on bus stops.
We also created a map of the park where now the landfill is, marking the animal and insect species that we encountered during our exploration (seagull and heron flocks, Red Book butterflies, etc.).
As a joke, we also mapped mythical creatures like unicorns, hinting at the possibility there could be other intriguing species we hadn't met (which doesn't mean they do not exist here). The island is full of enchanting and fascinating secrets.
Besides, we marked fishing spots, the historic 18th century road, beaches, viewpoints, the tree house —a source of local legends, etc.
The maps definitely provoked a reaction from the locals who discussed them in social networks. It seems that we managed to sow the idea of preserving natural areas in cities — at least among our group of urban researchers. The process of placing the maps turned into a cheerful quest with music, which slightly resembled the style of Partizaning, the international participatory urban replanning movement.
Another object of our efforts were derelict buildings — the resettled houses under the Western High-Speed Diameter. Surprisingly, the locals use this potential resource in a vandalistic way. At the time when we arrived to the island, almost all windows in those houses were broken and many things were burned. Apparently, vandalism is a negative response of people to the decisions that were made without their consent and to their disadvantage. When people turn into mere passive executants of someone else's will that intrudes on their lives, the only option left is breaking windows and burning the houses which these people were forced to leave.
We turned one of these houses into an art residence for exhibitions. We cleaned one of the rooms and painted its walls. We also created an installation from dumped furniture in the yard. This represented the inside-out idea: a room without walls and walls without the room (i.e., the furniture in it). This provoked a response from the residents. Some of them walked up to us, asking what was going one. The children who probably broke the windows helped us to paint the walls. Some people were angry that there was no furniture to sit on inside the house. Anyway, the problem came to the foreground, and its exposure will possibly gain momentum.
Finally, we printed the Constitution of the Kanonersky island. This "document" had blank pages in it so that anybody could fill them with their own text, thus creating "law" through joint efforts of the locals.
All our projects have a potential for further development. We can say that we have set some basic directions. Indeed, creating a map of the island with information on its locations and specific features is a first stepping stone to self-identification, branding, enhancing the status of the island and drawing public attention to it.
As for art, empty houses can become excellent places for art residences or squats, alternative planning and development. This is a way to see disadvantages and problems as a resource for territorial development, to initiate processes that lead to changes.
We may have not had enough time to fully integrate the future authors of transformations — the local residents — into the project.