Vic.invades and his friend recalled finding themselves atop the Manhattan Bridge in the middle of a snowstorm. Surrounded by steel suspension cables, with the din of traffic far below, not even frostbite could stop them. Vic.invades had been cheating the city’s tunnels and rooftops for already three years.
As the pair climbed down, they paused at an overlook. Vic.invades saw a police car in the distance. Instinctively, he took a step back — and fell through an open grate, his outstretched arms immediately catching onto the platform, the rest of him dangling hundreds of feet above the road.
Vic.invades and those like him around the world call themselves urban explorers. They call what they do urban exploration, or urbex. It’s for some a hobby and for others a way of life. From the city’s sewers to the tops of its skyscrapers, each urbexer has a rationale: art, history, thrills.
Urbex is as old as the city, veteran urbexers said. In recent years, it’s been increasingly publicized, thanks to social media and the couple who climbed to the spire of the Empire State Building last month.
It’s against the law (and, to many observers, common sense) to scale a suspension bridge or skyscraper, dredge through the sewers, or trespass on other restricted properties where there is a clear and present danger to the public. Yet the rebellious, persistent, and free-of-charge nature of urban exploring suggests a motivation beyond making headlines.
“There isn’t really anywhere for the kids to go,” Vic.invades said. “So all they can do is go up and climb.”
Vic.invades on a building roof.Photo: @quanatl
‘It’s a weird art form’
Vic.invades, 34, who asked to be referred to by his Instagram username, is a life-long New Yorker. He began urbexing in junior high school, sneaking into Brooklyn’s Pratt Institute campus.
In the following years, urbex became a way of life. He watched videos of urbexers scale skyscrapers in Shanghai. He connected with journalists to highlight his excursions. And he realized that what drew him to urbex was the artistry. He started taking photos.
“I come from a lineage of artists who take chances and do groundbreaking things,” Vic.invades said. He called himself a “Harlem Renaissance baby,” referring to his family’s historic ties to the land. He currently lives with his 100-year-old grandma in Clinton Hill.
“I wanted to show people that a young Black man such as myself is able to bypass these places, and also look the part, and also create beautiful art at the same time,” he said.
In May, Vic.invades had an exhibition of his jaw-dropping work in Aloft By Marriott Harlem. He’s been featured in Ripley’s Believe It or Not! He is also a member of the creative collective Art Gang, which is led by artist Voodo Fé.
“I think that people need to feel at a higher level…Through my work, I’m able to show that, and I’m able to live it in real time,” Vic.invades said.
Steve Duncan in the Old Croton Aqueduct.Photo by Steve Duncan
On the rooftops
College student Cleet, who asked to be identified by a nickname to remain anonymous, got into urbex through parkour, which he started at 12. Parkour, along with skateboarding, is adjacent to urbex and attracts a similar type. Through parkour, Cleet stumbled upon urbex locations.
Cleet specializes in sneaking into buildings, getting to the roof, and practicing parkour there, including hopping from roof to roof. When he is not urbexing, he said he is walking the streets, looking for “roof gaps.”
Cleet, who belongs to the newest generation of urbexers, described the urbex community as a web of people with similar interests, not a rigid and easily-defined group.
“It’s pretty clique-y. There’s definitely very inner-inner circles,” Cleet said.
Urbex has an informal code of conduct, he said. One of the biggest rules is to not reveal buildings’ locations. “It’ll get completely trashed if people find it,” Cleet said.
Like others, Cleet has had close calls. One occurred in the subway tunnels, which he also explores. After hopping a fence near a train yard, Cleet and his friends walked some 40 blocks underground in near pitch-black. Suddenly, a train rushed by. One of the group yelled “Train!” and everyone bolted to the side.
“We were all like a flock of birds,” he said.
Another frightening time, Cleet’s friend was exploring a subway tunnel, and was “chased out by a homeless guy with a knife.”
Cleet’s most memorable interaction with the law came when he and some friends got the police called on them for practicing parkour on a Brooklyn rooftop. The cops’ minor response aligned with what other urbexers told amNewYork about their run-ins with the law. Cleet and his friends were taken to court; the case was dismissed immediately, he said.
“The cops were great about it,” Cleet said.
Steve Duncan at the top of the Chrysler Building.Photo by Steve Duncan
Tales from the tunnels
Steve Duncan is a pioneer of New York City urbex. He arrived in the city from suburban Maryland in 1996 to attend Columbia University. Duncan first urbexed his college campus, and grew from there.
“The city was built in many different layers,” Duncan said. “If I can get deeper in those layers, I can go further in the past.”
Duncan, while experienced in tall buildings, specialized in sewers. He started a website, Undercity, where he posted photos and writings about his explorations. A 2010 documentary, also named Undercity, directed by NYU student Andrew Wonder showcased Duncan exploring sewers and their history and inhabitants.
In one memorable adventure from those years, Duncan held a pizza party in the sewers, inspired by Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Clad in costume, Duncan and friends recreated a scene where a delivery guy drops off a pizza order at a sewer entrance.
“We had to go with medium pizzas because they are the only ones that fit through your standard 26-inch New York City sewer panel cover,” Duncan said. After receiving the order, the urbexers descended into the sewers and enjoyed the pie in a cavern decked with lights, tables, and sofas.
Many years later, Duncan, now 48, lives in Maryland. It’s been ten years since he’s done anything “drastically illegal.” He does not follow urbex as closely as he once did but still receives invitations from young urbexers to join meetups.
“Decade to decade, I think we’re still in a fairly paranoid period of American history,” Duncan said. “There’s a strong sense that if you’re not doing something you’re supposed to be doing, you probably shouldn’t be doing it. If you don’t have a real reason to be there, why?”
The answer can only be found somewhere in the damp darkness of the sewers or the windy plain of a rooftop.
Steve Duncan in the Old Croton Aqueduct.Photo by Steve Duncan