PARADOX OF PRAXIS 1 (SOMETIMES MAKING SOMETHING LEADS TO NOTHING)
FRANCIS ALŸS, 1997
Okay so… apparently the first thing you do is get a block of ice. Like an actual, annoying, heavy block of ice. Then you pick a city. Big one. Hot one. Lots of people just trying to get to work who now have to walk around you. And then you push it. That's it. That's the plan. No pulling. No explaining. Definitely no eye contact. And you do this for nine hours. Which — sorry — that's insane. That's not art time. That's a shift. That's somebody texting like, "Hey, are you still coming in?" Around hour three I start quietly hoping he quits. Not in a dramatic way. Just like… "Buddy. You did enough. You made your point. Let's wrap it up. We'll get tacos." Also — his hands. No gloves. Which feels important. Just bare hands on ice for nine hours like, "This will be fine." Think about how cold that is. Your hands go numb. Then they hurt. Then they stop hurting. Which is never a good sign. That's your body being like, "I'm out. Good luck." At a certain point he's not even pushing ice anymore. He's pushing the idea that this still makes sense and that he didn't already prove it four hours ago. And I have to admit — I like this kind of thing. Pointless labor. Moving heavy stuff around. Carrying something upstairs and then realizing you forgot the other thing and doing it again. Just effort. No payoff. I find it weirdly calming. Which feels like… a personal issue. Because that's the trick. You watch this and suddenly you're thinking about your own life. Projects. Emails. Meetings that exist so the last meeting didn't feel stupid. That thing you keep explaining like, "No no — it's supposed to feel like this." The ice doesn't screw up. It's not confused. It's not pretending. It just melts because it's being pushed. Sometimes making something doesn't lead anywhere. It just makes heat. Then water. Then nothing. And yeah. That's the piece.