Orien McNeill, Visionary Artist of New York’s Waterways, Passes at 46

Orien McNeill, a dynamic artist and leader within New York City’s DIY and participatory art circles, was known for his theatrical, immersive works that primarily unfolded on the city’s waterways—a scene once described as “Burning Man, but with the risk of drowning.” He passed away on May 15 at his home, a 52-foot ferryboat moored on a Brooklyn creek, at the age of 46.

McNeill was a trailblazer on New York’s polluted waterways, notably becoming one of the first artists to settle on the Gowanus Canal—a contaminated Superfund site in Brooklyn—nearly two decades ago aboard a 1953 Chris-Craft he named the Meth Lab, despite it having no relation to methamphetamine production.

His waterfront homestead attracted a community of street artists and freegans—anti-consumerist foragers of the late 2000s—who might otherwise have occupied abandoned warehouses. This collective embraced a lawless, creative space within an increasingly gentrified borough, crafting art from salvaged materials and staging events reminiscent of the 1960s Happenings, though these performances were largely private and undocumented.

McNeill was regarded as the group’s charismatic leader, a mischievous figure who orchestrated elaborate, loosely structured escapades involving costumes, handmade raft flotillas, and even a floating pop-up bar on a sinking tugboat.

When artist Caledonia Curry, known as Swoon, initiated her 'Swimming Cities' project—whimsical floating structures made from reclaimed materials launched on the Hudson River in 2008—McNeill, her Pratt Institute classmate, served as an inspiration, project architect, and co-pilot.

The following year, as Curry adapted the project for Venice, McNeill reprised his role. The team built their boats in Slovenia after customs officials temporarily detained their shipping containers, mistaking the materials for garbage. They then sailed the vessels through Venice’s canals during the Biennale, captivating the art world as McNeill patrolled in a battered skiff to ensure safety.

Reflecting on McNeill’s influence, Curry remarked that he introduced her to the concept of world-building through his untamed waterfront lifestyle, which served as a hub for an artist community. Though he preferred to avoid the spotlight, his presence deeply inspired those around him.

Another collaborator, Duke Riley—known for his LED-lit pigeon releases over Brooklyn and a Revolutionary War-era submarine replica—joined McNeill on various ventures. One memorable project was the sinking bar, created inside a half-submerged tugboat with a rusted floor. Guests at the bar gradually found themselves waist-deep in water as the tide rose, swimming away before conditions became hazardous.

Riley noted McNeill’s fearless pursuit of bold ideas regardless of personal risk, recalling many joyous and proud moments spent creating alongside him. He observed that much of McNeill’s work was undocumented and absent from museums, yet his influence on many artists remains profound.

Artist and frequent collaborator Dan Glass described McNeill as an irresistible personality—part eccentric and part charismatic, with a distinctive style marked by blazers and feathered hats. McNeill often transformed everyday experiences into performance art, such as serving roasted alligator instead of birthday cake or concocting martinis made from Pepto Bismol garnished with Band-Aids, which surprisingly were drinkable.

McNeill also organized an annual event called 'The Battle for Mau Mau Island,' named after a landfill mound in Brooklyn. Participants formed themed gangs and navigated homemade, often unseaworthy crafts through Jamaica Bay in a playful competition resembling 'American Gladiators' with props and mock weapons. The boats were dismantled after the event, emphasizing the temporary nature of the artistic expression.

The event highlighted McNeill’s vision of New York’s waterways as a frontier for ephemeral art and theater, offering creative freedom scarce on land, a sentiment echoed by former Gowanus artist community founder Chris Hackett who described it as 'an artists’ rumble with no winners.'

Inspired by Curry’s 'Swimming Cities,' McNeill’s most ambitious project was a 500-mile journey along India’s Ganges River to the sacred city of Varanasi, which he dubbed 'The Swimming Cities of the Ocean of Blood.' Along with collaborators, he constructed five metal pontoon boats in Brooklyn, powered variously by motorcycles, sails, oars, and paddle wheels, designed to lock together for river camping.

In 2010, the team shipped their boats to a university in Farrukhabad, India, which hosted their reassembly. Despite years of fundraising efforts, they faced funding and supply shortages. The months-long expedition was fraught with challenges including attacks by monkeys, encounters with floating corpses, and navigating a dangerous quarter-mile-wide concrete dam, described as a 'Class 5 rapid.'

McNeill bravely led the charge over the dam, followed by a participant whose boat capsized. Recognizing the peril for the rest, McNeill dismantled the remaining boats, procured a tractor, and transported them overland to bypass the obstacle, demonstrating remarkable determination and leadership.

Born on December 7, 1979, in Manhattan, McNeill was the only child of filmmaker Val Van Cleve and artist-author-director Malcolm McNeill. His parents survive him.

His godfather was author William S. Burroughs, who once baptized McNeill with a splash of vodka and generously provided the family with the lease to his TriBeCa loft.

From a young age, McNeill demonstrated exceptional artistic talent, drawing, painting, and sculpting with the skill of a mature artist by age 10. His father taught him to use an airbrush and vacuum forming machine to support his early ambitions of building a spaceship.

Following his graduation in industrial design from Pratt Institute in 2001, McNeill traveled extensively before settling on the Gowanus Canal with his Chris-Craft boat, beginning his unique waterfront homesteading. He later modified a sailboat by removing its mast to create an expansive deck for hosting gatherings, embodying his commitment to crafting the creative environment he envisioned.

For his tenth birthday, McNeill requested business cards reading 'Orien McNeill, All your dreams made real,' a testament to his lifelong dedication to turning imagination into reality. His father still keeps a few of these cards.