An absurdist theater artist prepares New Yorkers for climate disasters

Edgemere Farm emerged as a beacon of hope following a climate-related disaster, showcasing the strength of community resilience. After Hurricane Sandy wreaked havoc in 2012, dedicated volunteers transformed a neglected, flood-ruined, city-owned plot of land into a thriving organic garden.

In mid-September, the vibrant half-acre site located in Far Rockaway, New York, witnessed a unique transformation: it was temporarily turned into a bustling chai shop. Over 200 individuals gathered for a compelling performance of Flood Sensor Aunty, an innovative hour-long play crafted by local urban planner and theater artist Sabina Sethi Unni. In this creative endeavor, she personifies a flood sensor—a tool designed to monitor water levels and relay critical data to a publicly accessible map.

Sethi Unni brings her humanized flood sensor character to life, intertwining her monologues with humorous interactions among chai shop workers and aspirations for cinematic stardom. The cast also features intriguing characters such as lovesick city health inspectors, an attention-seeking city council member, and a rain god running an unconventional cult from a modest apartment.

While many often think of urban flooding in relation to coastal cities such as New Orleans and Miami, it is increasingly becoming a pressing issue in northern regions like New York. After Hurricane Sandy, 34 out of the 43 fatalities in New York City were due to storm-surge flooding, particularly in vulnerable low-lying neighborhoods. More recently, Hurricane Ida’s aftermath in 2021 led to the tragic deaths of 13 individuals, with 11 of them trapped in basement apartments. Even seemingly manageable downpours, as witnessed in July, can inundate homes and pose serious threats to public safety.

Flood Sensor Aunty aims to raise awareness about these dangers while blending absurdist comedy with actionable advice for disaster preparedness. The performance champions community strengths, providing audiences with practical support such as free flood alarms and headlamps in collaboration with the city’s Office of Emergency Management and local nonprofits. Alongside entertainment, the play teaches how to access 311 and devise a disaster plan—wrapped in an electrifying performance combining music, vibrant costumes, and innovative staging in parks, warehouses, and even on boats.

Sethi Unni recently discussed her work during Climate Week and has plans for performances in Boston and beyond. She envisions addressing additional pressing topics through theater and encourages fellow artists to approach the climate crisis with a combination of humor and optimism.

Grist had the opportunity to connect with Sethi Unni to explore the intersection of public art and disaster preparedness, her creative inspirations, and a closer look at the concept of a flood sensor.

This conversation has been edited for brevity and clarity.

Q: What inspired you to create theater surrounding climate change?

A: The impact of Hurricane Ida made it clear that there were significant gaps in reaching South Asian and Indo-Caribbean communities, particularly those living in illegal basement apartments, who are often reluctant to engage with city officials. The city’s attempts at outreach may not resonate with these communities that often don’t speak English or have a distrust of governmental entities.

Flooding is commonly associated with coastal areas, yet the neighborhoods profoundly affected by Hurricane Ida were often inland, particularly in Queens, where high groundwater levels lead to significant seasonal flooding. In places like South Queens, flooding is a persistent reality, making awareness and education crucial, especially for communities that have historically been overlooked.

During my planning school studies, I observed discussions focused on floodproofing strategies, predominantly from a top-down perspective, emphasizing large-scale solutions like seawalls. However, the need for grassroots strategies became apparent—a focus on educating residents about what flooding means and perhaps altering perceptions around basement apartments. This creative endeavor aims to connect with communities in meaningful ways, using familiar cultural references.

Disasters such as floods are often seen as non-political events, yet systemic factors like redlining and segregation dictate residential patterns in cities. In New York, public housing developments frequently find themselves situated in low-lying areas, which predominantly affect Asian American and Pacific Islander immigrants living in identical flood-prone neighborhoods.

Q: What was the inspiration behind Flood Sensor Aunty, and could you explain what a flood sensor is?

A: My engagement with a Facebook group called Community Flood Watch greatly influenced me. One dedicated member often shares NOAA flood reports specific to Howard Beach. My fascination with floods led me to explore how residents report flooding, typically through 311 calls—accessible mostly to those who understand English and can take the time to call. Flood sensors present an alternative and invaluable method of collecting data that can support community advocacy.

A flood sensor is a clever and functional device that, when placed at elevated positions, measures the distance to the ground as the water level fluctuates. Although some may liken them to surveillance cameras, their purpose is purely about flood measurement. This technology serves as a tangible representation of the abstract nature of flooding, grounding discussions in reality.

Q: Is the flood sensor’s presence continuous even between flooding events?

A: Absolutely. It remains relevant whether it’s raining or sunny. Inland flooding is often underestimated unless someone experiences it directly—that’s a significant concern.

Q: In your view, what role can art play in educating people about these transient yet dangerous phenomena?

A: Art contributes significantly to the educational ecosystem, as people often respond better to creative formats infused with humor and enjoyment. It captivates audiences and enables essential information to permeate. Information needs adaptation—sometimes people may not engage with a pamphlet but will connect with a lively song about emergency preparedness.

Q: Considering your play reflects local political dynamics, what is your perspective on the role of bureaucrats in our climate response?

A: It’s essential to strike a balance. My play humorously critiques bureaucrats’ rigid adherence to rules that can sometimes be detrimental, while simultaneously celebrating those truly devoted to making constructive changes. We showcase a bureaucrat from the City Office of Emergency Management who contributes to our performance in a lively manner—illustrating how creative engagement can occur in unexpected places.

Q: Your character states, “gossip saves lives.” What insight can you provide on this idea?

A: Indeed, gossip can be instrumental in saving lives. It fosters neighborly connections and essential communication regarding safety. Knowledge about local risks and who needs checking on during emergencies is invaluable, illustrating how informal networks operate as crucial infrastructure in crisis conditions.

Q: Capturing attention in bustling public spaces can be challenging. How do you ensure your message is conveyed amid distractions?

A: We focus on being the most visually striking and engaging presence in the area. During set design, we considered color contrasts that appeal against natural backgrounds, ensuring the performance complements the locale, like showcasing Edgemere’s vibrant tomato plants as part of our scenery.

This concept of “useful art” emphasizes practicality. Regardless of the level of engagement, we provide the audience with essential safety resources such as go-bags, flood alarms, and headlamps, ensuring practical help accompanies our entertainment. While raising awareness about systemic issues is fundamental, sometimes immediate needs—like having a flood alarm for a basement—must come first.

Conventional climate policy often emphasizes large infrastructural projects, such as seawalls, but soft infrastructure built on community unity—taking care of each other—is equally vital and deserves recognition and resources.