Journal of a Sabbatical

September 5, 1998

water fire

Copyright © 1998, Janet I. Egan

The smell of pine and cedar smoke drifted over downtown Providence. We could smell it as far away as Thayer Street. Water Fire engages the senses in ways that most sculptures don't. Walking toward it down South Main Street and then along the river, felt like a pilgrimage to a spiritual site.

We sat on the edge of the Woonasquatucket River mesmerized by the fires. The deeper into the fire I stared, the more hypnotized I got. When I was a kid I used to gaze into the campfire and imagine a whole fire world in there among the glowing coals. It wasn't so much the flames that intrigued me then, it was how the wood changed as it was consumed.

Tonight the rippling reflections were what took me to some other mental place. A million tiny reflected fires forming a bright carpet on the water, almost like putting out the red carpet for visitors.

The music set a reflective mood without being too spooky. The whole effect was like being at some ancient pagan ritual.