Last summer, I watched a girl running along the old, russet towers of Gas Works Parkâs namesake gasification plant. She hopped from one scaffolding to another, posed atop a tank, drifted along a pipe. She couldnât have been more than 15. A city worker arrived and yelled at her to get down. Fallingâand she could have at any momentâwould likely mean broken bones, torn ligaments, internal bleeding, perhaps death. Yet she moved with the unworried finesse of an acrobat or gymnast. The Gas Works plant, dormant since 1956, was repurposed into a sort of public art piece in 1976, when the park opened. Now the girl repurposed it again as a performance apparatus.