On a Sunday evening in the middle of Tompkins Square Park in New York City’s East Village, hundreds of people gather in front of a giant papier-mâché face of a woman wearing a crown. She’s the backdrop of a play, her body made up of curtains that look like a dress but serve a dual purpose, allowing actors to scurry on and offstage.
I’m here to watch a performance called “Luddite Recreations,” which is a history of the Luddite movement—a group of artisans and textile workers who resisted the adoption of machines during the early years of the Industrial Revolution in England and whose resistance to being displaced from their work was met with violence by the British monarchy.
It’s one of the opening events of the Summer of Ludd, a weeklong series of talks and activities like how to flirt and date offline, mending, and learning to fight against data centers, all focused on getting people off their phones and into community.
Photograph: Vittoria Elliot
Everything is so evidently handcrafted, giving it the energy of a high school production (complimentary). A small orchestra, manned by people dressed in Pride regalia, sits off to one side. Behind them, a table holds 10 different zines covering everything from how to get off Spotify to the role of surveillance technology in schools to “Why GenAI Sucks.”
The events will continue through July 5, with most major parts concentrated in Tompkins Square Park. (There will be a beach day cookout on July 4 as well as events in nearby locations in the East Village.)
At the beginning of the play, the actor playing Lord Byron, the famous British poet who supported the Luddite movement, tells the crowd of about 300 the rules for the week: Be present, and absolutely no phones, recording, or photos allowed.
None of the week’s events, including the play, are advertised online. Posters around the neighborhood advertise the Summer of Ludd, declaring “only in real life!,” and booklets with the week’s schedule of events have been placed in community spaces around the area.
I found out about the event in a serendipitously offline way. Earlier in June, I was with a friend in the East Village, and we got caught in a summer downpour. As I was waiting it out in the Museum of Reclaimed Urban Space, a small venue that documents the neighborhood’s history of activism, I found the booklet outlining the Summer of Ludd’s events among several other zines, posters, and pamphlets. So here I am, phone tucked away, notebook out, playbill in hand.
