Melissa Gould is a New York conceptual artist who has in mind a most ambitious work of art in connection with Titanic's 85th anniversary in 1997.
Before describing that preoccupation, a discussion of one of her previous exhibitions is mandatory. Part of the Ars Electronica Festival of Linz, FLOOR PLAN was mounted in Austria over the summer of 1991.
Gould's haunting creation reproduced a destroyed Berlin synagogue in unique fashion. The walled outline of the vanished building was delineated with yards of fluorescent tubes, set in shallow trenches dug in a grassy field beside the Danube. The glowing trenches were covered with translucent panels to protect dozens of electrical connections from the weather.
FLOOR PLAN remained in place for less than a week, drawing large crowds at the most propitious viewing time which was, patently, from dusk on throughout the night.
Accompanying the exhibition was Alvin Curran's audio installation, by which, in the words of a press release "clouds of human voices loomed as invisible walls of sound over the periphery of the ghostly floor plan, emerging from hidden underground speakers."
Now, back to or perhaps on to Titanic, the exhibition concerning which might well be entitled simply Deck Plan. Melissa Gould is anxious to float an illuminated deck plan of the White Star liner on the surface of the water, of presumably the ship's configuration at Promenade Deck level.
Her initial choice of a site was far out, far out at sea, in fact, south of Cape Race and directly over the wreck. Regardless of its appropriateness, that choice would not only have been extraordinarily complex to transport, mount and tether in place but would also remain largely unseen by anyone save for a handful of installers and photographers.
So it was your Editor's suggestion to Miss Gould that she consider transferring her venue to Manhattan in the North River. Two possible locales leap to mind: either alongside Pier 59 where Titanic was due to dock or within one of the slips separating piers 88, 90 or 92 at the Passenger Ship Terminal.
At that second location, her work would be readily visible to large numbers of spectators atop the piers both north and south of the slip. Moreover, during the fortnight leading up to April 15th, 1997, the piers are vacated by shipping until the summer Bermuda trade gets under way at the end of the month.
Having the idea is one thing, implementing it is another: a host of technical and municipal hurdles obstruct Melissa Gould's artistic path. How, for example, will her network of linked fluorescent tubes float, how will they be harnessed together to retain Titanic's shape, how will they be powered, how will the structure resist current and tide? Will the city and the Department of Ports and Terminals grant the necessary permits? The audacious complexity of the scheme begs comparison with the kind of monumental bureaucratic challenges faced by Christo when he succeeded in shrouding Paris's Pont Neuf in gold lame and floating pink skirts around a selection of Biscayne Bay's islands.
But surely these hurdles can all be surmounted. And the image of an illuminated, full-scale Titanic deck plan, floating radiantly within a Manhattan slip, should serve as its own reward, an evocative memorial of incalculable power. Although it is not within the Ocean Liner Museum's power to write the check, Melissa Gould's endeavor seems germane to our interests, deserving our encouragement and support.
Members are invited to share their response to Miss Gould's conception of refloating Titanic's image.
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