A landscape we have to navigate together

When my son was born, his older sisters received a special present: a We-Do-It Bench. It’s a small, toddler-sized bench that can be comfortably carried by two small children (ours are two-and-a-half and four-and-a-half), each holding up their end. It’s a little perilous for others when the bench comes careening down a hallway at speed, but the girls love it. Our oldest quickly discovered she could lift it solo, but, knowing the name, she prefers to lift it with her sister.

Faced with a world of digital superstimulus, we need more of our real, built environment to invite us out of ourselves and into partnership and play with others. We need more public art installations that invite you to explore the real — that require you to rope someone into your exploration and reward you for doing so.

There is a simple example of this on the lower floor of Grand Central Station in New York. A level below the starry vault of the main hall, there is a tiled, domed chamber outside the Oyster Bar, which functions as a whisper room. Stand diagonally across from a confidant, and you can hear her whisper perfectly across the tumult of the passengers chasing their trains. Spot others murmuring, and it’s hard not to start looking for a sympathetic stranger who might try it out with you.

Build a fountain that requires a certain number of people to stand on precise pressure-sensitive flagstones to trigger its highest jets. Put up anamorphic art that snaps into sense in a single point and leaves you urgently needing to tell another pedestrian, “Stand right where I was just standing and look.” And, at the most basic level, add public games to public parks — bocce, chess tables, and so on — so there’s a reason to linger, making it obvious you’d like a partner, becoming a regular.

Some of these make sense as official projects, but a little guerilla art wouldn’t go amiss. After all, you’ll need at least one other person with you to serve as a lookout.