Taking a small look at social interactions

Bret Woodard has lived in the Mission for a decade, and in that time he has noticed major shifts in the street culture. As an artist, Woodard felt compelled to make other people see what he was witnessing and confront this too.

For instance, sitting in the parklet next to Artists’ Television Access, he points to the line of people on the sidewalk in front of Señor Sisig’s restaurant: Most of them have their phones out — even the people in conversation with others waiting in line. It’s a common sight in San Francisco, but this particular scene of people focused on their phones seemed so intense en masse it appeared almost hypnotic. Lately, Woodard says, he’s become so fascinated by the phenomenon that he can’t stop looking at people looking at their phones.

Then there’s the influx of homeless people and encampments in the neighborhood. On average, Woodard says, he sees about 20 homeless people camping out on the sidewalk during his twoblock walk to get coffee in the morning. Near the encampments, Woodard has observed people clutching their phones and staring into the glowing voids (like the people in the Señor Sisig line), actively trying not to acknowledge the encampments.

These observations are the inspiration for his sculpture exhibition, “Street View,” on display in the Artists’ Television Access window space through Sunday, Feb. 23. Using Sculpey clay, a material that sells for about $60 a box and is available at most craft stores, Woodard recreated eight scenes he has witnessed, focusing on moments of techbased isolation and the homeless crisis.

When I saw his new installation, I was both drawn to and disturbed by his vision. The figures measure roughly 6 inches tall, an adorable size that makes the grim subject matter approachable in an unexpected way. One sculpture shows a pair of older men sitting close on a park bench, backs to each other, while they gaze into their phones. It’s based on a scene Woodard witnessed near Tartine Bakery at 18th and Guerrero streets that fascinated him.

“It was amazing, seeing people being that close and eating, which is one of the most communal actions, and yet not talking,” Woodard says.

Another piece shows a little girl at a lemonade stand absorbed in her iPad (complete with Square payment attachment) while a customer waits, waving his credit card. That piece was inspired by an incident Woodard observed on Valencia Street at the beginning of the “Street View” project.

Another piece, a figure he nicknamed “Tech Guy,” shows a man on a couch surrounded by screens: a TV, an open laptop computer, a smartphone he’s checking and a tablet. Noticing a theme yet? “I’m in there too,” says Woodard, who created a clay figure of himself holding a sign with the name of the installation. He admits he is guilty of similar distractions as his subjects. “I do the same stuff, look at Instagram, space out on my phone.”

Not even nature can defeat the pull of technology in “Street Views.” A scene Woodard recreated based on a trip to Yosemite National Park shows people posing in front of Half Dome. But instead of looking at the majestic natural wonder, they’re focusing on the phone taking their picture.

As a statement of his own complicity in our technological disengagement, Woodard spent two hours sitting on a stool in the window among his figures one night staring at his phone, not responding to the people who stopped and tried to get his attention. While at first he says he felt pretentious, watching people out of the corner of his vision not see him and observing the people who did was ultimately a learning experience.

He plans to repeat this selfinstallation from 7:30 to 8:30 p.m. Friday, Feb. 21.

The figures depicting the homeless people of the Mission are presented on the floor of the window exhibition space, instead of on the slightly elevated platforms of the other figures, since “we literally look down on these people sitting or passed out on the sidewalk,” Woodard says. We also figuratively look down on them, if we see them at all.

The most jarring scene is based on a moment Woodard saw walking on Alabama Street: A man passed out on a mat next to a sign advertising an open house for a place selling for millions of dollars.

Seeing the scenes of social disengagement and the homeless crisis depicted in clay reminiscent of Rankin/Bass animated TV specials such as “Rudolph the RedNosed Reindeer” is both a hard juxtaposition to process and something I couldn’t look away from. Which is exactly the point of the art. Miniatures are often used to show off something’s cuteness. These scenes do exactly the opposite. They show us the uncomfortable truth of our streets in a form that’s so unexpected it becomes accessible.

If Woodard continues the series, he plans to create a coffee shop scene with a long, snaking line of people waiting, absorbed in their phones. Over the entrance to the shop, he envisions a sign that reads, “We welcome all types: coffee $7.” Also in the scene will be homeless people who will multiply during the installation and eventually fill the scene, obscuring the other figures waiting in line.

“In the next stage, I want to bring the two worlds together,” Woodard says. “There’s sadly plenty of life to work from.”