benedson: The Curator, the Artist and a Block of Ice

There was once an artist who had a idea, he presented the idea to the curator who thought that the idea was brilliant and so they persevered to make the idea happen. The idea was a reflection on the 'long now' and encouraged people to pause and watch as a massive piece of ice melted.

The artist tried many ways to get the large block of Ice, including filling a freezer with water and waiting for it to set, but after many hours of experimenting the artist worked out a way that his vision could be realized. The curator, found a site for it, negotiated with all the concerned parties and it was decided that it could happen. Funds were sought and made available and a date set.

On 27th August a lorry with a freezer section arrived at the site and slowly the massive block of ice was maneuvered into place. The excitement in the air was tangible as the block was unwrapped, an the ice spire was placed on the block and it quick fused together. As the initial fog cleared objects which had been placed in the block of ice could be seen; flowers, a rosary, some acrylic crosses and there at the top in the spire was a 'Buddy Christ'.

The Sun glistened off the ice and it looked beautiful. It slowly started to melt, streams of water flowed down it, softening the edges and giving a dynamism to the piece of work that had not been foreseen. It was left and the public started to interact with it, touching it, breathing on it to speed up the melting process but patiently waiting, watching, intrigued to see what would happen to this colossal block of ice. The artist and curator left, pleased at what had been achieved and excited about this evolving piece of worship.

A few hours later stories began to circulate and the curator went back to see the spire had gone. The stories were that the spire had been knocked off with a slab of concrete and that Jesus was kicked around like a football until his head broke off.

However, the block of ice was still intact, still beautiful, still melting. The next day the curator walked past, the block was surrounded by a gang of people. One with a slab of concrete, some with rocks, one with a toffee hammer hacking into the block of Ice - trying to get to the treasures inside. The curator stopped them, removed the concrete and rock hammer and walked away, slightly distressed at what he had seen. He spoke with the artist, the artist was philosophical:

It was always going to melt, always going to disappear, always going. They just sped up the process.