Philly’s Portal has officially opened.
After a press conference in the morning, an ever-shifting crowd of Philly residents enjoyed the view — sometimes just watching and waving, sometimes erupting into laughter and cheers, sometimes pulling stunts to grab the attention of the European Portal-watchers on the other side of the screen.
“It’s a way to travel without really leaving the city,” West Philly resident Brenda Reabis said. “You know, just connecting as human beings.”
The Portal is an 11.5-foot circular structure with an 8-foot-tall screen displaying a 24/7 livestream of the view from Portals in other countries. Conceptualized by Lithuanian artist Benediktas Gylys, Portal’s website describes the installation series as a way to facilitate human connection across borders.
“In a world of increasingly polarizing narratives, it is essential to remember that we are all together on this tiny, beautiful spaceship called Earth,” the website reads.
Ahead of the Portal opening, Philadelphians on X (formerly Twitter) were already anticipating a chaotic tenure for the sculpture, some predicting it would survive no longer than two days.
The Portal comes to Philly after five months in New York, where it made headlines in May; the livestream ran for less than a week before being temporarily shut down after a New York OnlyFans model flashed Dubliners through the screen and Irish Portal-watchers held up pictures of the 9/11 terrorist attack for New Yorkers to see. It was subject to greater restrictions after that.
Though she’s hopeful that Philly will keep it PG, Reabis said she anticipates some tomfoolery might ensue eventually.
“We know when the nighttime comes, people get more adventurous. I don’t think they’ll hurt the machine, but I’m not sure what they’ll show on the machine,” Reabis said, laughing. “We had that incident happen in New York, and Philly won’t be outdone. So let’s hope we take the high road.”
A crack near the bottom of the screen in the Portal made some visitors wonder aloud if any destruction from Philadelphians had already ensued. Luckily, that wasn’t the case: the damage happened during the Portal’s installation, due to some too-tight screws.
On Tuesday, many parkgoers took selfies, videos, or Facetimed their loved ones to give them a taste of the view. Plenty of strangers chatted and laughed together. Some, including Reabis, brought signs to show on the livestream. Some chanted “E-A-G-L-E-S” with accompanying arm motions, at Dublin. People on either side of the Portal often slipped in and out of mimicking each other’s movements like a mirror, and even dancing together.
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The portal rotated between three different livestreams every five to 10 minutes: Dublin, Ireland; Vilnius, Lithuania; and Lublin, Poland. The locations weren’t accompanied by any labels on the screen, leaving some confused watchers to figure out which country was which by word of mouth.
“What city is that supposed to be?” one passerby asked a park worker. “What country?”
The park worker didn’t know.
“Oh my god, man,” the passerby groaned.
Philly and Dublin seemed to enjoy each other’s company. There was usually at least a small crowd on the Irish side, and they were happy to wave, laugh and dance along with the larger crowd of LOVE parkgoers. One man ambling around in the center of Dublin’s livestream had been there since the Portal’s first few hours in the morning, according to an anonymous park worker. Another man entered the screen, took off his green jacket, and twirled it around in the air, eliciting cheers from Philly Portal-watchers.
Poland’s livestream was more subdued but still often had a small handful of watchers and wavers who seemed bemused by Philly’s crowd. A couple women in view clasped hands and did the wave, prompting Philly to do the same.
The crowd often let out a collective groan when the livestream switched to Lithuania — which, at least while Billy Penn was around, was reliably barren. Every so often, one or two Lithuanians, bundled up and walking quickly, would cross the street leading to the livestream. Philly Portal watchers would try hard to beckon them over with big, exaggerated arm waves, usually to no avail. In the rare instance where one offered a wave, the crowd erupted in cheers.
“We all like to see where everyone lives, and what they dress like, and are they friendly,” Reabis reflected. “Not like they’re aliens, but, you know, just different people in different cities.”
One group of high schoolers showed off for the Portal more than anyone else. Anthony Ciranl, in particular, performed handstands at the front of the crowd and hoisted a friend on his shoulder.
“I didn’t even know where I was looking, but it’s just something different,” Ciranl said. “I feel connected to people. I like the way it feels.”
When asked how long they expect the Portal to remain up before someone’s behavior forced a pause or additional restrictions, Ciranl guess a couple weeks.
“Tomorrow,” chimed in his friend.
We’ll see what the nighttime brings.
