Waterlog is all about immersing yourself in water, about really being in it. As Professor Wiggin said today, the quality of the water of the Schuylkill River doesn’t really allow for that level of immersion.
Maybe we weren’t in the river, but we were in the mud, as indicated by this photo of Rose’s boot I took. Sloshy, watery mud. I just like this picture because of how wet the soil in this spot was, considering most of the times I go to the river this patch would be completely dry.
This semester, I’ve been thinking of the relationship between humankind, water, and expectation/interruption, about how humans expect the water to do this and the river responds by doing that.
I saw that today in the art piece in the river, the caterpillar-looking indicators of tide. (I’m blanking on the artist’s name and the art’s title, I apologize.) One of the indicators were stuck in a stick, indefinitely perched upwards, indicating half-tide. We’ve asked the river to report on itself — and it seems the river cheekily refused.
This is my second time doing my river walk not on my own (the first time, a few weeks back, I walked with my friends Pranav and Katey). I always underestimate how lovely it is to walk beside someone, to have another pair of eyes point out this detail, to have another human being laugh at your jokes.
Liquid Histories and Floating Archives 