Zach Rockwell's class at the Cooper Union recreated Allan Kaprow's ice sculpture, "Fluids," in downtown Manhattan, in back of the school, last week. he invited em tow rite about it on his blog. I did.
Watching Fluids melt brought up memories of the many conversations in and out of class and for years afterwards, that I had with Allan over thirty-five years. Those conversations had ranged from psychology to politics to formalism to the works of others. If Allan had been alive, I might have asked him what it was like to make Fluids on a cold November day on New York City concrete as compared to a hot summer day in Pasadena?
We might have compared what people wore on each occasion and what it means to handle ice half naked in the sun vs bundled in warm layers of swathing. We might have discussed at length, the difference between the smell of perspiration from sweating workers in 1967 vs the smells of New York City in the age of global warming. And we might have talked of the pollution swathed in frozen water.
The day of the 2007 Fluids event, Coryl Crane Kaprow and I discussed the pristine water in Swizerland that was specially made for that version of the Fluids event. We thought Allan would have preferred the funkier NYC version. If I’d met the Fluids-workers, I might have asked the class what they thought about the irony of ice melting on the streets when ice is melting at the poles into floods around the world? To myself, I pondered the trickle of water surrounding Fluids compared to the floods that will take coastlines everywhere in just a few years. I kept waiting for a dog to pee on the ice but then it was surrounded by yellow tape and that was the end of my fantasy of yellow translucence.
If I’d eavesdropped on the students talking during or after the making, I might have made comparisons with our discussions three decades past, many of which remain vivid in my mind still. Perhaps it was fairest to both that I didn’t. Still, I would have liked to have had a glimpse of what was experienced this time around, as a student myself of their Fluids.
I wondered what kind of gloves you all wore for the work and what was the take-away? My mood that day was wistful for innocence and Allan. We were all so committed to immediacy and impermanence then. It was a double-edged sword. I’m glad it was all documented, both times: ice at the end of the Hippie era vs ice in the beginning of the Age of Global Warming.
Coryl and I took endless photos of the details of the ice as it transformed, melting and refreezing while we discussed Allan's conflicts and solutions over recreating work he never meant to repeat and how he resolved that by expecting it to be a new invention- if he was clever about his instructions. I considered how Allan taught me to build a performative structure that has that resilience to what is uncontrollable. The next day Coryl & I were still talking about the Zen of relinquishment, the discipline of choices.
That Saturday afternoon, as twilight fell, we headed down to Queens for "18 Happenings." As the ice disappeared from my line of sight, we decided to stop at Starbucks. I gratefully held hot tea to my hands and we descended into the earth below Manhattan to take the subway. My take away is a memory from my father, shortly before he died, quoting from Latin, "tempus mutandis..." Time changes everything, including Fluids.