Lilo in a puddle.

After being by the pond for a while I wanted to get in some water.

I had a discussion with two other Artists about what this could be, and we created a verbal risk assessment/critique in order to explore this.

What did I want to achieve? How deep was the pond? What are the risks of getting in the pond? What can we do to limit these risks? How do we mitigate the risk of being denied permission?

The pond was deep. My stick (measuring stick from the near by grassy area!) couldn’t reach the bottom and most of the depth was a sticky weedy muddy mess that would suck my legs in…. it was also freezing. Getting on and off the lilo was undoubtedly going to lead to me falling in. Was this in any way the point? No.

So. I had spotted a very large puddle in the car park when I had arrived. I took my lilo and one of the older lily pads that had come loose, and instead got in the puddle. It became another extension to my bubble. The water acted as another layer of safety or confinement (as it did with the Lady of Shallot – see previous post). It protected me from others, but alongside that the act of being on the puddle, the act of playfulness, of ridiculousness, invited conversation, from the men working in the grounds, and then the canteen staff who saw me doing it.

I had accidentally happened upon a way of connecting, between people, between artists and other staff at the uni. Between those involved and those not. Inside. Outside. Inbetween.

One comment on “Lilo in a puddle.”

  1. This was incredibly fun to be part of. I enjoyed the anticipation, the spectacle, the juxtaposition, the daring of the unexpected. The puddle became so much more expressive of the concept, of the reality of imagination, of creative vision in an everyday world, of borders between, of iconic ideas, and live art spontaneity.

    I was photographer, protector (guarding the periphery of the experiment), risk assessor (someone to bounce thoughts off), and turn taker (Susan had photographed me with my red veil and paper wig the previous week, and thus begun a trajectory of mythological imagination?).

    I particularly revelled in doing the risk assessment not just for the sensation of dotting i’s and crossing t’s but in the way it was done: informal discussion, a brainstorm of possible consequences… which ultimately led to being absolutely sure that Susan would probably get stuck in the moat and very wet and slimy, and that the puddle was much more public and intriguing as a place to float…

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