Collected explorations
& musings on intimacy

For A Moment, We Were Children Again

Interactive Installation
Mixed Media
Dimensions Variable
For A Moment, We Were Children Again is an interactive installation that seeks to bring out the inner child within the participant, reigniting a sense of wonder and curiosity amidst the pressure and demands of adulthood.

The artist is planted within the blanket fort to navigate the experience by taking on the role of the storyteller, contextualising the work and mediating conversation.

C O L L E C T E D    A U D I E N C E    M E M O R I E S
A memory, a thought, a story — share a piece of your childhood and attach it to
a string as a collective act of reminiscing, bringing different pasts to one space.

The calming stillness of childhood, shutting the
outside out, whilst the rain patters at the window.
Safe inside. Cosy, sleepy, still. Encased in the
pretend for just one moment longer. Sigh.

The smell of the pool at night. With a fat old man
playing the accordian. Jazz music in the moonlight.

Listening to thunderstorms with
my mum and counting between them.
Now it’s my favourite weather.

When I was a little girl, if there was a big
rainstorm on the weekends my father would take
me and the do around our estate with our wellies on.
The objective of the walk was to see who could
squash the most slugs during our stroll.

Though morose and cruel, those were some
of the happiest walks of my childhood

A few years back I had a dream where I was
in a tent like this one with strangers and we
could hear each other’s thoughts echoed in our
minds as we fell asleep. It’s really interesting
how I’m having such a déjà vu feeling right
now in both cases feeling innocent.

Do you think you can be in love with
more people at the same time?

There is either everything or nothing happening
at the same time. It’s all about the energies you feel
and reflecting outside so that the others can
grasp them as well.

My sisters and I used to make fairy houses
in shoe boxes. We would build beds for them
and leave them offerings and write them letters.
They would write letters back to us. Being in
here feels like being inside a fairy house.

I am at the garden. I paint over my dad’s painting.
He comes and gets the paint off me with turpentine.
He tells me I need to do my own painting. He gets
out an old painting with a printed Mona Lisa.
I paint over it. It’s great. I feel like a painter now.

I had an amazing childhood but my dad hid
his homelessness from me. I was embarrassed to be
seen with him. This helps me reconcile the nostalgia
I have for a happy, ignorant childhood with the shame
and guilt I’ve grown to feel towards my dad.

© Clarice Ng 2023, All rights reserved