Boredom often elicits disconnection and meaninglessness — in large doses, existential dread — but when embraced, it can be a catalyst for creativity.
Nietzsche theorized that we should welcome the discomfort of the mundane because hitting rock bottom can motivate us to dream of the exceptional. Similarly, neuroscientists and psychologists examine the positive effects of boredom in their research when linking idle resting states that spark mental wandering and the imagination. This paradoxical pairing of boredom and creativity is not new — cultures around the world have been exploring it for thousands of years.
The ancient Taoist concept of “wu-wei” and the Japanese word “ma” consider stillness and emptiness as companions to creativity. Compositions require “ma” or silence and emptiness; without pauses, objects and sounds blur together and fall flat. These philosophical concepts are thought to apply to everything we create, from planning a daily schedule, to arranging flowers or music.
The balance between voids and creative flow can guide us to understand urban revitalization. Cities inherently contain both deserted open spaces and densely developed places. At times, industrial areas empty out and become urban deserts that await new ideas. In the 1980s Brooklyn and Berlin had imbalanced unused industrial zones that eventually became cultural hubs through art activation in the 1990s.

Just as these Eastern concepts embrace emptiness and Western scientists study the positive effects of boredom, creative types gravitate toward abandoned factories, vacant storefronts or unused public spaces for inspiration.
Art collectives in New York City, Argentina, Tulsa, Santa Fe and Sacramento shared with me the key ingredients to the success of their avant-garde art events: a core art collective; a cohesive vision; and a commercial space with character and creative energy.
But before they took their adventurous dives, a sense of urgency mobilized them. These innovators desperately needed a communal space to discuss, experiment and share. The duration of their events depended upon the strength of their collective and their vision. Bombastic Sacramento events such as Art Hotel, Art Street Projects and Light.wav served more as two or three-week pop-ups, whereas, other art collaborations, like Lalalandia and Keep Refrigerated in Brooklyn, SoundLab House of Ouch in New York City’s Chinatown, and Living Arts of Tulsa transformed into art scenes lasting years. Although artist-organized, these pioneering projects didn’t happen in isolation. For these collectives to succeed, sponsorships or support from forward-thinking building owners were essential.
Living Arts Collective in Tulsa initially paid $1 per year for use of a building until the building was eventually demolished. Sacramento’s Art Hotel and Light.wav were granted free temporary use of vacant buildings. Art Hotel was an artist take-over of a building slated for demolition that included over 100 artists and drew hundreds of visitors in 2016.
Keep Refrigerated in Williamsburg paid $1,000 per month for a 6,000-square-foot warehouse. SoundLab and Lalalandia used borrowed commercial space from friends. These property owners understood the value of artist-led revitalization, recognizing how culture brings tourism, business and dynamic neighborhoods.

If the momentum of a scene grows, then bars, restaurants, galleries and other businesses follow suit. And no great city — like New York City, London, Paris, Beijing, Dubai — is without cultural arts. But generosity has a ceiling. Once a divested area thrives, property value and rents usually increase, and avant-garde artists will either become established institutions, adopt strategies to persist or be forced to relocate to a new untapped area.
Living Arts and Currents in Santa Fe, New Mexico grew into annual festivals and institutional staples that have endured for decades. Whereas, art producers of one-off events, Art Hotel (an apartment complex at 7th and L streets in downtown Sacramento) and Art Street (a warehouse off Broadway in Sacramento) adopted a more organizational mindset from the get-go, seeking permits, insurance and grants, and establishing a nonprofit, M5Arts. The co-directors Shaun Burner and Franceska Gamez have since pivoted to a mural business.
Light.wav, an annual multimedia pop-up in Sacramento directed by local Alex Trujillo, takes a hybrid approach to his art events that blend business with play — his improvisational pop-ups depend on availability, resources and the interests of the community. Trujillo keeps a roster of commercial property owners for his multimedia pop-ups. In contrast, the Big Apple 1990s underground art collectives — SoundLab, Keep Refrigerated and Lalalandia — saw themselves as nomadic labs. They are considered underground due to the lack of permits, insurance and contracts. Creators of these mobile art parties and art pop-ups tend to ebb and flow with a city’s “wu-wei” or “ma” — the visionaries identify as outliers finding comfort on the edge. Like the balance of “ma,” if an area becomes saturated with mainstream activity and life, it may be time for the innovators to seek out empty expanses to ignite.
Aimlessly roaming the streets in divested neighborhoods can be boring for most people, but these urban strolls are opportunities to slow down, reflect and imagine. Jeff Gompertz, an art producer of Brooklyn’s 1990s art loft scene, mentioned he often enjoyed walking the streets of industrial Williamsburg, observing how unused factories could be potential structures for cultural labs, art and music events.
If abandonment is a descriptor for the perfect place to begin an art scene, one doesn’t need to live in a cultural capital to create artistic momentum on a citywide scale. Sacramento, my hometown, has witnessed a decline of some neighborhoods and is in great need of artistic revitalization. Like Gompertz, I needed to get out of my car to discover its hidden potential.

Last summer, I walked around Stockton Boulevard in South Sacramento and Del Paso Boulevard in North Sacramento. The alienating corridors lined with too many unused commercial spaces would be perfect boring spaces for my art walk game, “At this Spot.” Volunteer participants from the City of Sacramento’s Long Range Planning and the Planning Academy strolled and picked cards with prompts that directed them to be present and deeply listen to their environment. By gamifying the walk, inspired by the slow urban wandering of the Avant Garde French Situationists, participants could pivot their mindsets to rethink urban design.
Sacramento curator of M5Arts Seumas Raibéart Coutts also referred to the 19th-century French “flaneur” or the urban wanderer as a source of his inspiration for curating Art Hotel and Art Street. He likens art to a life habit or necessity like drinking coffee and water, similar to the Fluxus art movement that blurs the boundaries between life and art.
If the art experience is as vital as drinking water, why hasn’t an art scene proliferated in Sacramento similar to other cities of its size like Austin, Portland, Dallas, Denver and San Diego? Perhaps innovators need to linger a little longer in boredom and slowly explore lifeless areas like modern-day flaneurs to appreciate the California capital’s potential.
I encourage Sacramentans to meander through divested neighborhoods, such as Stockton Boulevard and Marysville-Del Paso Boulevard. Imagine vacant malls turned into art parks, ongoing night markets with music and dance in unused parking lots, art performances in storefronts, kinetic window art instead of boarded-up facades, street theatre, and video mapping on dilapidated facades. Commercial property owners should support artists’ persistent energy and vision for community-building — not push them out with exorbitant rates. With tax incentives for property owners that host avant-garde cultural events, we can fulfill Sacramento’s potential as a cultural epicenter.
Angie Eng is a professional artist and educator who holds a Ph.D. in intermedia art, writing and performance. She was raised in Sacramento and has lived on 4 different continents. She is a recipient of over 50 art commissions, residencies, and grants for her creative productions.
By Angie Eng