Public Swinging
This morning on the CBC’s The Current, one of the topics discussed was public art. Much of the show was dedicated to negative public reactions to particular pieces of public art, and its cost, with little time to explore the positive, dynamic value of public art installation or its potential to engage at an embodied, relational level. Reducing the debate to whether we should or shouldn't spend money on public art offers minimal value to what could be a vibrant conversation about how we choose to engage with public space and each other.
I was waiting in line for the bus after a somewhat stressful morning when I noticed an empty swing across the street. Almost without thinking I walked towards it, dodging the oncoming traffic. The seat hung limp between two active swings, one occupied by a slightly disheveled older woman and the other by a young businessman. Beautiful sounds rang out of speakers embedded within the angular metal frame. This is because the swing-set is, in fact, a giant musical instrument. Each swing is connected to pre-recorded notes that change pitch with the swingers’ motion. The resulting music is a collaborative melody by random participants. Even if they’re not physically on a swing themselves, passersby are invited into a shared sound scape, while watching the interplay of lights, which glow from the bottom of the seats, whooshing through the air.
I sat down, shifting slightly to get comfortable, grasped the metal bars on either side of me, extended my legs, leaned back and pushed my feet into the cement. With my head tilted back and my arms extended I lifted off the ground into the air. The musical tones, to which I was now contributing, echoed all around me. The woman to my right spoke in French—her words ebbing and flowing within our alternating swinging motion. I couldn’t understand everything she said, but I could sense her joyful enthusiasm. On my left, the man, his briefcase resting below his feet, was wearing expensive dress-pants and a collar shirt; he offered a sly, child-like guilty smile when I sat down, as though he had been caught in the middle of an inappropriate act.
As I swung through the air my stress, like a snake in a basket, was charmed by musical vibration. I could see the people on the other side of the street, where I was previously standing waiting for the bus, most were staring downward or gazing across at us—watching the spectacle. Normally I’m not someone who engages in public exhibitionism. It’s not that I’m against it; I’m just shy. But in this case, the space, the open structure, the art installation provided me with both the opportunity and the permission to let my self experience, if only for a moment, a bit of playful creativity. I was simultaneously having my own experience and creating an experience with two strangers. Regardless of the controversies surrounding public art installation (and there are many), the 21 Balançoires succeeded in luring me into an unexpected moment of delight.
