When I flick through an old sketchbook, I am always surprised by how well I can remember the circumstances while I was drawing the pictures. Here is my old sketchbook from this year which I didn’t consistently use but has many very different memories concealed in it.
Darkness envelops us, and we stand huddled together under our umbrellas. Rain falls slowly through the last of summer foliage, left in the trees that surround us. And then we hear it: children’s laughter. Goosebumps rush across my skin. Light flickers in the tree in front of us. Shrieking and giggling come from its crown. I am seriously spooked.
Dusk. Black wires stretched over our heads and we looked up trying to follow the paths to their origins. On the sides of the open area on the roof of the “Münster Theater” we found buttons on the ends of dangling wires. Pressing one of them meant setting off church bells others triggered other sounds. Sometimes it was difficult to differentiate between the sounds of the outside world or the noise created by the installation we were standing in.