The Pool Reader 5

<p>Hearing someone say your name. A dear friend touching your arm. Feeling the texture of an unfamiliar object against your skin. The smell of frying fat, blooming oleander and chlorine mingling in your nostrils. Watching the pool water rhythmically spill over the edge of the basin and wash back in.</p> <p>This year’s summer programme was a visual and acoustic translation of touch and care. The swimming pool became the setting for a tender yet emphatic exhibition. The artworks blended into everyday life at the swimming pool. Children played the bronze gongs by Sarah Ancelle Schönfeld daily—sometimes more, sometimes less gently. The bright timbre became part of the everyday soundscape and reminded us that, at least for one summer, touching was allowed again. Benevolently whilst avoiding touch, Cecilia Bjartmar Hylta’s animal food-spitting column rose and catered only to those who dared to enter the pool in the dark. Every day of this summer, I sat on BLESS’ seat cushions, stuck to the fabric with my pool-wet thighs, quickly wiping away the ketchup I had spilled while eating fries. Anna M. Szaflarski’s flags fluttering in the wind kept urging us to swim and savor the endless possibilities in this special place. The washrooms held another stimulus: A child, confused by the bizarre sound, was unsure to leave the toilet when Berkay Tuncay’s ASMR piece began to play. Meanwhile on the terrace many visitors turned their heads to gaze upon the turning forms by Camp Solong that resembled head. With its museum-like display, this artwork was one of the most clearly recognisable as such in the exhibition. Next to the kiosk the pastel-coloured painted ice cream by Manuel García Díaz almost made us feel the coldness of the summer treat against our teeth. Maria Giovanna Drago’s window foil made us feel protected inside and invited people from outside to reflect on the texture of the distant wall depicted in the print. Lilli Thiessen’s sealed playhouses encouraged the children to take a closer look at its glittering surface, while Cédric Fargue’s raised bed had to be resealed weekly as the Fimo plantlets were apparently too cute to resist being touched. The sculpture garden extended into the spacious green area where Lauryn Youden’s audio play subtly tickled the bathers, just loud enough to make a few relaxing people look up in the big tree in search of the source of this delicate sound…</p>