Acción de las flores / Flowers action

Acción en el barrio de Almagro

Buenos Aires, 2003

Claveles, vasitos de plástico, tierra
Colaboración: Alejandro Waksman

Esta acción consistió en colocar flores en la vereda, de un modo no usual, en un día cualquiera, de modo que no pudiera tener ninguna referencia festiva, ni religiosa. La idea era que no fueran reconocibles las razones por las cuales esas flores se hallaban ahí, y que los traseuntes se lo preguntaran a sí mismos (o al empleado de la veterinaria, o al vendedor de frutas, o a quien sea) y no hallaran una respuesta funcional o previsible.

Pocos días después de mi cumpleaños, coloqué las flores que algunos amigos me habían traído como regalo, todavía frescas, en los vasitos descartables que habíamos usado el día del festejo. Con un poco de tierra, pude “plantar” una flor en cada uno de los vasitos. Los coloqué en línea recta, en la vereda, justo en la puerta de mi casa. Mi casa está en la avenida Corrientes, cuando deja de ser céntrica y se convierte en la avenida comercial de un barrio de clase media de Buenos Aires (Almagro). Esto implica mucho tránsito vehicular, muchos negocios, muchos peatones, muchos niños yendo y viniendo de la escuela, pero todo sumido en un espíritu relajado, bien de barrio.
 
Lo que aconteció fue mínimo pero suficiente. Las personas caminaban al lado de la ridícula hilera de florcitas, y miraban con curiosidad, algunos sonrientes, otros molestos. Alguien preguntó en la veterinaria (porque la hilera iba desde la frutería hasta el final de la vidriera de la veterinaria, pasando por mi puerta que está entre los dos negocios) si sabían de qué se trataba eso. ¿Un altar religioso? ¿la promoción de algún producto? ¿Un festejo de final de clase?
 
Ninguna de estas preguntas halló respuesta, algunos vecinos de mi edificio se acumularon en la puerta confirmando lo que ellos piensan de mí, que soy una chica buena pero rara, y a la vez elogiaban la instalación, que formó parte de mis previsibles rituales.
Unas niñas decidieron poner en circulación la obra, y se robaron algunos vasitos.




For English, please scroll down.

This action consisted of placing flowers on the sidewalk, in an unusual way, on any given day, so it could not suggest any festive or religious references. The idea was that the reasons by which those flowers were there could not be identified. The passers-by should then ask themselves (or the salespeople at the stores), but without a predictable or practical answer.
A few days after my birthday, I put some of the still fresh flowers I got from friends as a present in the plastic cups we used at the party, and then I “planted” one flower on each cup with a little soil. I placed them in a straight line on the sidewalk, just in front of my front door. My house is in Corrientes Avenue, where it is no longer a downtown street and becomes the shopping area of a middle-class neighborhood in Buenos Aires (Almagro). This means heavy traffic, lots of stores, lots of pedestrians, lots of children going to and coming back from school, although in a relaxed environment.
The results were tiny but they were good enough. People walked by the ridiculous line of little flowers and looked full of curiosity, some of them smiling, others annoyed. Several people asked at the vet (because the line went from the greengrocers’ to the veterinary; my front door is between them) about the flowers. Was it a religious altar? Was it a promotion for some product? Was it a celebration for the end of the school term?
None of these questions found an answer; some people who live in the same building gathered at the front door, ratifying what they have always thought about me: that I am a good girl but a little odd. They also praised the installation; in fact it became part of my predictable rituals.
Lots of people looked gratefully at the anonymous installation, a flower is always is a flower, a beautiful thing is welcome. Some girls decided to make the work circulate, and stole some of the cups. I placed each flower on my building neighbors’ apartment doors the day after. Some of them asked who had done that, and then thanked for the present.
I always think about these small, inconsequential gestures that change the conventional stability, they are substantially helpful. They bring art to private life in a nameless and silent way: the audience doesn’t know what is happening is “art”. They simultaneously reveal – in a deeper, quite subversive manner – things the system tries to hide: everything could be different, nothing is in jeopardy, nothing wrong happens. It’s just different and intimate from the extremely boring everyday life. The possibility of altering the most private domestic space becomes clear; these gestures cross-examine and evaluate the world.