You may find the term ‘puddling’ somewhat puzzling. And I’d be with you there, as it’s the clunky translation for the French term ‘Flacking’, which itself emerged in 2016 to describe the covert art form of repairing potholes with creative mosaics. The work of French street artist EMemem, the French word ‘flaque’ meaning puddle. https://www.ememem-flacking.net/homeenglishversion
Rather than ignoring the ruts, leaving them to crumble and lead others to stumble, the art of tending to the ground emerges through a smattering of creative action and everything is changed.
Thoughts of the alternatives come to mind.
- Leave the hole or puddle as it is, for passers-by to accidentally trip over, fall into, or (if they are very careful), to skirt around.
- To wait till someone cares enough to the take the time to hastily try and fill it with tarmac, more of the same. Hoping this is sufficient to patch things enough that no one will notice the scars.
But this. This puddling, flacking, is hope if I ever saw it. This, a deliberate act of beauty and care. Even more so it being a mosaic, laid thoughtfully, artfully, piece by piece.
Quite literally a miracle at the roadside.
For it interrupts the passer-by with thoughts of wonder, of imagination, of what may be possible. Thoughts of ‘what if?’. What if there were layer upon layer of bright colour under our feet, just below the surface? What if whole worlds of ‘otherness’ exist?
What if hope really does spring eternal?