Piushaven, Tilburg 31/05/2024
10:00 Dark clouds.Windstill.
Feels like 18°
It's 10:00 when I place myself on the dock of the Piushaven.
Immediately, I see a cormorant. The bird spreads its wings and seems to enjoy the air moving around and against its body. It takes up space. I feel awe for this animal.
I lie down on the dock to be lower than the bird. It feels natural.
It starts to rain. I left my raincoat at Fontys. When I checked the weather radar, no rain was forecast. Now, doubt takes hold of me.
Do I keep moving in the rain? Seek shelter? Go get my coat? The temperature does allow for dancing in the rain. But I just recovered from a nasty lung infection and decide not to tempt fate.
Under the trees on the quay by the dock, I wait for the rain to stop. It takes too long.
Then I start warming up on the cobblestones under the trees.
When I want to start my tai chi exercise, I suddenly realize I no longer remember how to begin.
Well, I do know the beginning, the starting position. But after three movements, my bodily memory falters. Something I rarely experience. I decide not to panic. This is probably still part of my recovery.
I dicide, like the cormorant, to stand and take up this space under the trees.
I repeat the first three movements several times and turn them into a choreography. Each time, I stand still afterward to absorb the surroundings as much as possible.
There is a bollard on the quay. It is partially in the rain. But the intensity of the rain has decreased.
I stand on the bollard and still try to be a cormorant. It is not easy, as the top of the bollard is curved and wet. My soles barely grip the surface.
It takes some effort and control to just stand still. But slowly, I find balance.
Where I first turned inward due to the difficult balance, I can now turn my gaze outward again.
What happens in Piushaven in the rain?
Cyclists in raincoats try to reach their destination as quickly as possible, focusing on where they want to go. Some have a painful grimace.A moving van is being unloaded. A refrigerator is being carried into an apartment building.
Every position I take, I make as large as possible. Pedestrians walk by and lower their gaze. They hunch a bit. It seems as if they want to make themselves smaller.
Would I have the same effect on passersby as the cormorant had on me? Or is this merely a posture caused by the rain?
When I want to leave my footprint after my intervention, someone approaches me.
This person watches my actions attentively.
I catch myself feeling caught. Quickly, I say it's just chalk and that the rain will soon wash it away. With a shopping bag under his arm, the person stands close to me.
“Do you live here?”
“Yes, there.” He points in the direction of the apartments to the right of the dock.
“Why are you doing this? What are you actually doing?” he continues.
“Have you looked outside today?”
“No.”
“Ah, I just danced here and am now leaving my footprint.”
“So…, interesting.”
“It’s a bit of a philosophical footprint. I’m trying to see if I, as a dance artist, can leave something behind in this place.”
“Gosh, there used to be a lot more happening here, including dance.”
“Did you experience the dance festival here?”
“Yes, and much more! It used to be cozy here! Everyone would lie by the water. We came together. During Corona, when we couldn’t go anywhere, we gathered here. Bands played, people danced, had picnics. It was great. But now nothing happens anymore.”
“How long have you lived here till now?”
“Nine years. But I have to leave. Everything is being demolished. High-rise buildings are coming.”
“What’s your name?”
“Elzo.”
“I’m Anke, nice to meet you.”
I take Elzo’s hand. It’s warm and soft.
He tells me about being a neighbor here, about the community in the apartment building, and how residents are leaving and not being replaced. The building is set to be demolished in 2032.
Elzo talks with melancholy in his voice. I listen and ask no questions. He tells me that the current government might make a difference. That not too many new residents can move in. But everything goes to money. Elzo means that social housing tenants have to make way for what they call ‘yuppies.’ I keep listening.
“I can rent from them, I have priority, but will it still be affordable?”
“But you like living here?”
“Yes, only, there aren’t many boats, right? The bridge is broken again. It should take another two weeks.”
“Is that why you moved here? For the boats?”
“Yes, indeed. It’s always cozy. Do you dance here often?”
“I try to come here every two weeks. Have you never seen me?”
“No, not really. And I do look outside sometimes.”
“The dock really invites me. It feels like a stage to me.”
“You should see, when kids walk with their parents, you can count on them walking here. The parents usually walk along the quay. But the kids, they run, dance, lie down.”
“Yes, that’s how it feels to me too. Maybe I have that in common with the kids.”
“Or with the cormorant? Do you know why it stands with its wings spread like that?”
“To dry or warm up?”
“No, it doesn’t have water-repellent feathers. Otherwise, it couldn’t dive for fish. So when it comes up, it lets its feathers dry. Beautiful, isn’t it? I heard that from a biologist who was here once. Do you dance anywhere else?”
“Yes, I’m going to Koningsplein next.”
“They’re going to demolish that too. It will all dissapear.”
“Yes, exactly. That's why. Let’s see if we can be meaningful there too.”
“That sounds like a good idea.”
“Maybe I’ll see you here next time?”
“Could be, or if I suddenly see another footprint, I’ll know you’ve been here.”
“Alright. I’m going now, have a nice day.”
“Yes, I’ll be on my way too. Goodbye.”
Before I realize it, I blow a kiss to Elzo.
The contact with him was so warm and pure.
And as I walk to Koningsplein, I think I might indeed have something in common with the cormorant. I don’t have water-repellent feathers either.
The wind, the air, the surroundings come directly along and through my skin. My body absorbs and reacts.
At Koningsplein, I decide to make myself as big as possible. I spread my wings. In doing so, I hope to achieve absorption in two directions.
First, I want to absorb the surroundings and context as much as possible with as much of my body surface as possible. And I want as much of my body surface to be absorbed by the square and its context.
A few employees of the Stadswinkel look through the window at the square. I see one of them pointing in my direction. I feel their gazes, I absorb them. Somewhere to my left, I hear a man shout, “How is that supposed to work?”
I look around but can’t find who is shouting these words. It seems as if he is questioning someone, maybe arguing on the phone. It becomes my soundscape, and I genuinely wonder how it is supposed to work.
How do I absorb optimally, how do I let myself be optimally absorbed? What do I want to get absorbed by others?
The appartments on the east side catch my eye. This will be gone soon. What will come in its place? How quickly will it happen? What transformation will the square undergo?
Dance, I need to dance, to distribute myself to the surroundings.
There’s someone on the balcony on the west side. On the top floor, I see a silhouette in a chair. I wave, but no one waves back. A sanitation worker stops his cart in the square and empties the trash cans. When he stops, just a few meters from me, I smile and nod. He doesn’t nod back. I keep dancing.
A man with a shopping bag walks past me. I try to catch his eye; I succeed. We smile at each other. Due to the turn of my body, I lose eye contact.
When I look back in his direction, he’s already farther away. The square is large, I can’t possibly see everyone who walks, bikes, or looks past me. So I distribute myself to the square and all its users.
The silhouette on the top balcony has disappeared. And I’m sure our eyes met. From a great distance, but with certainty.
What do I leave behind here? What does the square leave with me?
I place one foot on an anchor point of a market stall and make myself as long and broad as possible. Am I a cormorant one last time today?
I lose my balance and place my right leg on the ground.
Here I leave my feet. Strangely enough, exactly in the position of the tai chi movement I couldn’t remember earlier at the Piushaven. It took me an hour and a half of absorption to find this position and the movement leading to it in my physical memory again.
It also took me from January until now to have a warm contact with a local resident.
And it all makes sense…
When I decide to leave the Koningsplein and head back to Fontys, I walk past the entrance of the Stadswinkel. I notice a sign on the door stating that mobility scooters are not allowed inside the building. I wonder how someone with a motor disability would have easy access. And then I see two wheelchairs.
Side by side, in front of the window.
And it strikes me. What a beautiful place. What beautiful lighting. And what a magnificent view of the square you have here.From this position, you look out over the big transformation the square will undergo. The imagined people in the wheelchairs look at the imagined transformation.
What can be imagined can also be depicted, I think. And I decide that next timeI'll dance, I'll meet the gaze of these imagined people. So that they, too, will be part of the renewed square.
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