Pedagogy of a Public Market

“The space in which we live, which draws us out of ourselves, in which the erosion of our lives, our time and our history occurs, the space that claws and gnaws at us, is also, in itself, a heterogeneous space. In other words, we do not live in a kind of void, inside of which we could place individuals and things. We do not live inside a void that could be colored with diverse shades of light, we live inside a set of relations that delineates sites which are irreducible to one another and absolutely not superimposable on one another.” – Michel Foucault[1]

Entering the Field

I shut my car door, breathe in the winter air, cool and crisp, and look around me. As I stand in the pay-per-hour parking lot, I take account of my surroundings. The first things I notice are the numerous cars in the lot. It appears that it will be crowded inside. I begin making my way toward the front doors; the canopied entrance is lined with empty picnic tables, clearly intended for warmer weather. The building has a façade that mixes weathered red brick with newer materials, giving the impression that an old building (the red brick) has been renovated for more contemporary use (the glass doors and external staircase). An enormous sign announces the purpose of the building; it reads “North Market” in large letters, with the O containing a rooster’s head surrounded by a radiant sun. I enter the front door and am immediately met with the hustle and bustle of commerce. I am bumped from behind and realize that I am standing in the doorway – Oh, I’m sorry, I should get out of the way, I say to the man who had run into me. “Not a problem, I didn’t see you.”

I move to the side and wonder what I should do first. I have no known connection to any of the shoppers, workers, or employees of the North Market Business Authority (the market management council). I decide to walk the floor and get a feel for the layout, at the same time exploring the shops and getting a sense of how people move through the market.

At first, it is easy to see that this is a converted warehouse, as the stalls have a haphazard, semi-permanent feel to them.[2] There are few dividing walls; different proprietors separate from one another by using deli cases, jar-laden bookcases, or produce containers. The North Market is clearly not a purpose-built environment with permanent partitions. However, the benefit is that the space can be broken up as necessary making it easier to bring in businesses of different sizes and means, as the space can be tailored to meet specific needs. The meat- and fish-mongers at the north end of the market take up a greater, more specialized space than do the bakery and popcorn stalls at the south end; the coffee shops and hot dog stands have specialized equipment, the bbq and hot sauce vendor is simply an open space lined with shelves with a cash register on a table. One vendor’s space is no more than six feet wide by ten feet deep or so, and has the feeling of an over-stuffed closet at grandma’s house. Everything from Bert’s Bees lip-gloss to Ohio State University shot glasses line the shelves.

As I complete my circuit, I determine that the ground floor consists of numerous vendors arranged around a rectangle. The two main thoroughfares run north-south, intersected by perpendicular east-west alleys. Almost every inch of walkway space is lined with display cases, serving counters, cash registers, or lunch counter-style seating. After finding the restrooms, I realize there is a staircase leading up to a second level. Not knowing what to expect, or even if I was entering an open area of the market, I head up. Upstairs is a large open space; tables and chairs line the walls and the inner railing that overlooks the ground floor shops. At the north end are the North Market business offices. At the south end is an enclosed seating space that is, according to a sign, available to rent for private gatherings but is currently empty. I sit down at a table to observe for a while.