I had the opportunity to create a temporary installation of a space between in the last weeks of Cran. A space to play as adults, to come together, to find joy. A sketch for the future for when I have more time.

I think a lot about why and when we stop playing, and the act of existing in the world in a certain form, a generation so nostalgic for the days of summer, of grass stained knees, of togetherness, but why aren’t we playing? Why did we stop? “I haven’t been on a swing in ten years eel,” I hear wearily over and over, only to watch someone’s eyes and face light up as they drop in, as they become weightless, on a swing, on a trampoline, on a see saw. Unbound laughter, just in there waiting to run free. What a gift somatic movement found in play is, in jumping, in swinging, a release.

To see the joy on my friends and colleagues faces, at the culmination of a year of making, thinking and working, often to the brim. A trampoline in the courtyard, in the crit room, in the kitchen, seeking joy is built into my bones, finding play in my blood, doing it with others a hug beyond my skin. To find joy in a world that exists within horrors— to find joy as an act of resistance, an act of being, an act of love.

Go play for me 💓

If you build it they will come