A six-hour walk along a railroad track in a public park.
I traveled to Montreal in the summer to see the possible sites for my performance for Viva! Art Action. We visited the new location for the artist-run center Dare Dare, adjacent to the Parc des Marchands de Bois. The deserted railway track that ran through the park alongside the Canal de Lachine intrigued me. I saw in my mind’s eye an image of a 19th century immigrant woman wearing a long wool coat and carrying a bundle, walking along the railway track into town. I suppose that image came to me after reading about the factories that had once existed along with canal.
The Viva! Festival was scheduled in the fall, in October. I was reminded of the preparations that we make at that time of year. Gardens are put to rest, tender plants are mulched, shrubs are wrapped. And bulbs are planted in anticipation of spring. The winter is long and dark and cold and snowy in Montreal.
The section of the railway track that runs through park is not even half a mile, but I decided to walk that distance over six hours. It meant that I walked very slowly along the tracks. I carried a basket full of Iris bulbs – hundreds of them.
As I encountered people along the way, I invited them to walk with me, and I asked them if they would talk to me about the ways that they get through darkness. I gave them as many bulbs as they were able to plant at their homes or give to friends to plant.
Meanwhile, I had invited the festival participants to bring lawn chairs to sit on a plaza in the park at the halfway point, so that they could watch me coming. I arrived there around 1 pm, to talk to people and give away more bulbs, and then I continued onward, to disappear in the distance several hours later.
Only one complication arose, when someone from a condo apartment overlooking the park was concerned that I was suicidal. I was walking too slowly. The police arrived, and although the organizers had received permission for me to walk along the track, no one at the railway office could be reached to verify it, even though they had been told that only one time a week did a train pass slowly along the track, with men walking beside and in front of it to make sure that on one was in the way. Nevertheless, the police insisted that I continue along the sidewalk, even while parents and children played on the tracks.
It is dangerous to walk so slowly.
In the spring people sent me pictures of their bulbs blooming.
