The Drowning Pool
- Michael Jay Tucker's explosive-cargo
- Jul 10
- 6 min read
Special Note: I’m returning, today, to my travel blog, and specifically to my series on how the Fort Worth Water Gardens seem to me to be extremely dangerous. I was at first reluctant to do so, given the tragically destructive flash floods that have occurred in Texas recently (and which now seem to be repeating themselves in Ruidoso, NM, and Durham NC). It seems a bit insensitive. But, in the end, I elected to resume the postings on the grounds that they fit. The floods, like the Water Gardens, remind us that water is a giver of life, but also needs to be treated with caution. ~mjt
So, last time, I finally got us to the “Active Pool” at the Fort Worth Water Gardens. And the time before that I explained why I thought it was an extremely dangerous place and that no one...particularly no one with children...should go there.
This time, I’ll just describe what we saw while we were there.
We arrived and realized that we were at the top of the pit leading to the active pool. The whole installation looks a bit like an inverted Aztec pyramid, but rather than having steps, it has slanted slabs. Water flows over the slabs, and through stream-like areas, toward the pool at the bottom. The idea, I gather, is to make it look like a mountain side, with trickling streams, and a forest pool at the bottom.
Except, as I said last time, if you were to fall on the edge of the pit, you would be helpless. You would slide quickly to the bottom, injuring yourself each time you went from one slab to another, and finally come to a (probably permanent) rest in the pool, where powerful pumps would keep you from rising.
About the photos: three today, all of “the Active Pool,” which I think of as “the Drowning Pool.” Unfortunately, none of these photos conveys how terrifying and dangerous this place really is. Please, therefore, use your imagination to increase its general level of peril.
And as we arrived, we realized that around the edges of the pit (there are no railings) were many, many people who were very dangerously close to falling in. What really terrified us, though, was the children we saw ...some of whom were unaccompanied, or who were being ignored by the adults who were supposed to be looking after them.
The most frightening of them was an older couple. Not old. But middle aged. Who were there with what looked like a grandson of about two years old. They were seated on a rock ledge on the very edge of the pit, with the boy sort of beside them. The couple were involved in some intense conversation which occupied their attentions completely.
The boy, meanwhile, was understandably bored, and so was dancing and fooling about right at the edge of the pit. One false move...one slip...and he would have been gone.
His grandparents(?) seemed clueless. Periodically, the grandmother would look up, realize that the boy had gotten beyond easy reach, and would say, “Oh, come back, come back...” The boy would move a few steps closer to her. And then the couple returned to their conversation...to whatever it was that so fascinated them...
And the boy would once again begin his relentless inching forward toward the edge of the pit...and eternity.
I ended up moving right behind them...hoping against hope that if the boy fell I would be able to get to him before he went over the side. (I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have.) But I stood there with my heart in my mouth, waiting for what seemed inevitable.
Finally...maybe I made them nervous...the grandparents gathered up the child and went somewhere else.
Unfortunately, that wasn’t the only such situation I saw that day. There were crowds of teenagers present...on a school trip? Anyway, they were right at the edge, and doing what teenagers do...horsing around...showing off...pretending to fall (and almost doing so in the process)...pretending to shove one another...
And then there was the case of a family that was there. I think they were recent immigrants. At least the parents were. Indian? Maybe. Whatever, they were there with the children. They gazed uncomprehendingly at the water, trickling down below, but which big signs everywhere told them not to touch. No wading. No splashing. And, of course, to someone from a culture where water is a shared thing, and meant to be touched, that was impossible to understand.
Finally, the father led his children and wife down the precarious slab-steps to the pool itself. I watched while he removed his shoes, and encouraged his family to do so as well, and placed his bare feet into the water that ran into the pool. A single slip...and they would have been gone.
And then there were the others ...the teenagers, and the tourists who...like the Indian family, walked down those slabs to get to the pool as well. Most of them didn’t wade into the waters, but I watched as they moved cautiously and uncertainly around one another. The slabs/steps are not continuous. It is not a single pathway. You have to step over spaces periodically. Again, a single misstep...
Finally, we’d had enough. We sighed and made our way back through the maze toward where we’d parked the car. As we went, we saw the police removing a few homeless people from their encampments in the brush along the way.
As I walked, I thought about the whole situation...and I’ve thought more about it as time has gone on. I think the Fort Worth Water Gardens are a fascinating example of what can go wrong with “Public Art.”
You see, most of the time, people forget that Public Art is also “art.” Most of the time, when Public Art is useless and worthless, it’s because some bureaucrats or rich donors forget that it is meant to be seen and enjoyed. And so it becomes some ghastly monument to themselves or their corporate values or whatever.
But the other way that Public Art fails is when the creators forget that it is also “public.” That is, it is meant to part of people’s lives...to be touched, and felt, and seen...in a way that they may enjoy it...but without putting themselves at risk.
And that’s where, I submit, the Water Gardens went terribly wrong.
I’m going to offer my unsolicited advice to the City Fathers and Mothers of Ft. Worth. You can still save the Active Pool. You do it by first putting a railing around the top to keep people from falling into it. Then, you create a tunnel or a sloping ramp to allow visitors to get to the bottom pool without endangering themselves.
Oh, and in the rest of the Water Gardens? You add a splash pad. Let people...and particularly children...have the access to the water. And make dang sure that the aerated pool is actually functioning. If you’re going to say you’re an “oasis” in the city, make sure you really are one.
Does this violate the vision of the artists who created the original Water Garden? And particularly the Active Pool? Yes. It does. Is that a bad thing? No. Not really. That original artistic vision was flawed in the sense that it did not include its audience.
Well, anyway, that’s my advice. Take it or not, as you see fit.
But, the important part of all this is that we’d had our unpleasant experience. We usually have one per trip, somewhere along the way.Which meant, you see, that the nasty part was over. And from there, everything could be just fine.
Which, in fact, it was. Mostly. Almost.
Except for one slight hiccup.
More to come.
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~mjt
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