Fake Cakes: The Final Chapter

The laminated postcards and clear water test on the rocky beach:


The rock barrier that I swam to in order to deposit the postcards into the clearest water I saw in Italy.



The postcards:





I tucked the laminated postcards into my suit and swam out to the rocks. Oh the water felt great! Cooler than the air but not bathtub warm. Refreshing. One major downfall was that it was so salty when I put my head in, I was repulsed. I swam through the small section of brown muck and all the way out to the rocks with the cards scratching my skin, refusing to put my head back into the water. This was no Lake Michigan as far as freshwater vs. salinity and it was deep. I made it to the flat rock that I saw people sitting on earlier, climbed up the slippery algae, removed the cards from my suit, slowly slid over the second line of rocks and started to throw them into the sea.

It was important to swim to the place where I would throw the cake postcards. Because of this, there is no documentation except for the scrapes on my left shin and right foot. I threw them out one by one and they didn't sink unlike the Venice Canal which instantly dropped to the bottom. [Oh yeah... salt water is buoyant.] When I climbed over the second group of rocks to swim back, I was slightly horrified to see that one postcard had made it to my side four feet away. I swam out to fetch it, dog paddling in the deep water because I wanted to know which one it was since the Ed Ruscha side was floating up. It was Desert Sun from Tucson. I threw it back to the rocks but it went up, not straight due to the fact that I am apparently incapable of throwing something far while swimming. One more was also floating toward me (again Ruscha side up). I turned my back to the cards and swam away.

There were a handful of people making their way toward the same rock when I approached the halfway point. I watched them from my blanket on the shore and when they got about half way back, I picked up my things and left.

When I first stepped out of the sea, I can't describe the feeling of relief that swept over me. Why? I finally let the cakes go. The series was done before this trip but there was never the act of letting go. They had Ed Ruscha's approval (which they didn't have last summer). They, also like Ed Ruscha's artwork, traveled to the Venice Biennale. I searched hard for the place in Venice but my only option was unclear water. Monterossa al Mare is in the same country, on the other side but not too far away. It still makes sense. I know the cards will float to the shore rather than sink but that is okay because it's all up to chance and sometimes nothing works according to plan.

The scrapes that would grow larger and redder throughout the rest of the time in Europe (and my only proof that I did indeed perform this action).