Imaginative sculptures that explore how we perceive reality Alicia Eggert

If you happened to be
in the town of Lubec, Maine

in July of 2016,

you may have seen something
a little curious on the horizon

when you looked out across the bay.

In the distance,

on an otherwise uninhabited island,

loomed large black letters
that spelled the word “FOREVER.”

The sign was 15 feet tall
and 50 feet wide,

large enough so that on a clear day,
you really could see “FOREVER,”

the word perfectly visible
and legible in the distance.

But on some days,

a thick white fog
would roll in off the ocean,

erasing the word and the view altogether.

And sometimes, like in this video,

you could barely see “FOREVER”
peeking out of the shifting fog,

accompanied only by the rhythmic
warning sounds of fog horns.

(Sound of fog horn)

It started out as a fairly simple idea,

albeit a little strange,

to put the word “FOREVER” in the landscape

so it could appear
and disappear in the fog.

But it took over a year
to plan and execute,

and it required the help
of so many people,

like the lobster boat captain,

who helped transport
all of the materials to the island.

And the volunteers, who helped carry
thousands of pounds of wood and steel

to the top of the hill
through waist-high shrubs.

And in the end,

“FOREVER” only lasted for three weeks.

(Laughter)

So if you’re wondering
why I did it at all,

as I often did during that process,

it might help for you to know
a little bit more about me

and my upbringing.

I grew up in an evangelical
Christian family.

And although I’m an atheist today,

I’ve realized that my religious upbringing

has played a really important role
in shaping the person that I’ve become.

In 1986, when I was five years old,

my parents became missionaries
to South Africa.

And that was during
the last few years of the apartheid,

so we lived in an all-white neighborhood,

and I attended an all-white public school,

while my parents helped found
a multiracial church

in downtown Cape Town.

Because I was so young,

it was impossible for me to understand

the magnitude of what was happening
in South Africa at that time.

I witnessed the racism and oppression
of people of color I knew and loved

on a daily basis,

but because of my own skin color,

there was no way
I could fully comprehend it.

But I had the privilege
to experience, firsthand,

one of the most influential
social movements of the 20th century.

And the thing that left
a long-lasting impression on me

was how the people I met in South Africa

could envision a better future
for themselves and their country.

A future they really
believed was possible.

And then they worked together,
relentlessly, for decades,

until they achieved
that extraordinary historic change.

I was there to see Nelson Mandela
released from prison,

and I watched an entire country
begin a major transformation.

And that transformed me as a person.

It instilled in me a sense
of wonder and optimism

and possibility that permeates
everything I create.

I make sculptures like “FOREVER”

as a way of giving physical,
tangible forms to language and time.

Those powerful but invisible forces

that shape the way we perceive
and experience our realities.

And in doing so, I try to give
other people the opportunity

to reflect on their own
perception of reality

and inspire them to wonder and imagine

what else might be possible.

I often use signs to do this,

because of how simply and effectively
they’re able to grab our attention

and communicate information.

They often point out things
we would otherwise overlook,

like this sign on the side
of the highway in Texas.

[TEMPTATIONS]

They can often signify things
that we can’t see at all,

like the distance to our destination.

Signs often help to orient us in the world

[You are on an island]

by telling us where we are now

and what’s happening
in the present moment,

but they can also help us zoom out,

shift our perspective

and get a glimpse of the bigger picture.

Imagine, for example,

you’re walking down
the street in Philadelphia.

A city in the US that contains
so much history,

the birthplace of our constitution.

But imagine you’re walking down the street

in an area that’s undergoing
a huge transformation

due to gentrification.

And as you walk down that street,

you notice something
flashing up above you.

So you look up and you see this.

A flashing neon sign that says

“All the light you see is from the past,”

and then “All you see is past,”

before turning off completely
for a brief moment.

It asks you to stop and notice

the history embedded
in everything that you see.

And it reminds you

that because light takes time
to travel across space,

even from just across the street
or across the room,

everything you’re seeing
in the present moment

is technically an image of the past.

Signs influence the way
we all navigate the world,

which means they have
the ability to create

a collective experience or understanding.

My time in South Africa taught me

that when people are able
to find common ground

and work together towards a mutual goal,

powerful things can happen
and so much more becomes possible.

And I want to create more opportunities

for people to find
that kind of common ground.

I want people to feel
the power of collaboration,

sometimes quite literally.

A few years ago,

a friend of mine showed me

how our bodies can safely conduct
small amounts of electricity.

And if you hold hands with another person,

a small electrical current
can pass through your held hands

and become like a switch
that can trigger something else to happen.

So last year, I used
that form of human connection

to activate an inflatable sculpture.

I put two sensors on a platform
far enough apart

so that one person
can’t make it work on their own.

But when two or more people work together

to complete that electrical circuit,

the inflatable comes to life.

And it begins to fill with air,

and the longer people hold hands,
the larger it becomes,

expanding into the words “You are magic.”

(Music, birds chirping)

I always love to see

how each group of people
finds a different way

to bridge that physical
and metaphorical divide.

But as soon as they release their hands
and break that connection,

the words immediately begin
to slouch and fall over

and eventually return to a lifeless
pile of fabric on the ground.

(Applause)

At this moment in time,
I think we could all agree

that the future feels
pretty bleak and uncertain.

But maybe the hope

for a brighter, more sustainable,
more equitable future

depends first on our ability
to imagine it.

But after we imagine it,

we actually have to believe it’s possible.

And then we have to find common ground

with people we would maybe
otherwise disagree with

and work together
towards that mutual goal.

And if we do that, I believe
we have the capacity for magic.

So if you can humor me
for one more minute,

I’m going to ask everyone
in this theater to hold hands.

When was the last time
you held hands with a stranger?

(Laughter)

And if you feel comfortable,

go ahead and make
that metaphorical gesture

of reaching across the aisle.

And after you’ve held hands
with people on either side of you,

if you feel comfortable,
please close your eyes.

Now take a minute to imagine
what you want,

what you want the future to look like.

And give yourself permission
to be at least a little bit idealistic.

What do you want to see change or happen
in your own life as an individual?

What do you want to see change or happen
for everyone, for the planet?

Can you picture it?

And can you start to see how,
if we all worked together,

it might actually be possible?

Now open your eyes,

and let’s make it real.

Thank you.

(Applause)