During Fiesta at Luminaria 2016, a San Antonio contemporary arts festival, my friends in the band Verisimilitude put on a show dubbed, “The Liquid Sunshine Experience.” They wore all white against an all white stage, set up several overhead projectors, and allowed the audience to create the backdrop with a projection process called liquid light. That was my first experience seeing something like that, and it really stuck with me. Last year, some friends and I decided we wanted to put on a noise show for Hallowe’en, and I suggested we put on our own light show. I started to research how to do it and pretty much fell down the rabbit hole. 

The process basically comes down to oil and water. Their differing densities form distinct layers which can be colored separately. I use candle dye, an oil based colorant, to paint mineral oil, a type of laxative. The combined oils float atop a pool of water dyed with liquid watercolor. Rubbing alcohol can be added to make the oils cling together or scatter across the surface of the water. And of course, the transparency of the fluids allows light to pass through. That’s where the overhead projector comes in.

I purchased two overhead projectors from folks in Austin and two slide projectors with about two hundred slides ranging from old family vacation photos to New York City street scenes. I have a number of moires (two patterns overlapping to form a third) and transparencies (things like images from old Magic Lantern stories, fairy tales, Gulliver’s Travels, the free NASA archive), which lay on the stage of the overhead projector. I can make the images small enough to project on my bedroom door, or I can easily blow them up to paint the side of a house.

The liquid bath goes on top, in either an old Pyrex dish or on a pane of glass from a clock I found at Goodwill, both having their own unique effects. The Pyrex dish allows for easier layer separation. The oils and dye balloon and float across a static surface of water, and the addition of alcohol causes them to dance and scatter on their own. Panes of glass allow less room to play around because they lack the depth of a dish. But when using multiple, I can stack effects, spinning them in-time to music to create kinetic motion or squashing them together to overlay and separate colors.

I pick colors based on how the music resonates with me, or I ask an audience member for their suggestion. When I make the liquids too dark, or create something I’m not happy with, it’s easy to wipe the plates clean and start over. Some shows are disrupted by outside elements like clouds of insects landing in the liquid bath, but such experiences make me excited for the next opportunity to perform and innovate. There’s an entirely different type of light art that requires removing heat sinks from old glass slide projectors. Ether, water, and oil combine and slowly heat up when placed on the slide projector, causing bubbles trapped between the glass to rush to escape and the oil to slowly pulse and dance. Once the liquids are hot enough, the glass shatters and is replaced by another slide. I can’t wait to try this out.

What I find most interesting is how simple and instinctual projection art really is. The same basic practice has been around forever, and it’s only complex and magical to someone looking-in. I’m a novice really, but I think I’ve got something going for me and I feel very proud of my work. I’m definitely not the first person to do this, and I hopefully won’t be the last. 

The liquid light community is fairly large and intertwined, but only a small fraction of the visual landscape at large. I don’t fear that digital projectionists have an easier time at getting their work shown at live events. We practice two different styles, with no need for competition. I’ve played shows with digital projectionists where we alternate or work simultaneously. I personally choose the analog, but it’s just preference. I like getting my hands dirty and I feel a connection to the folks that first started performing like this, but I have immense respect for digital artists and people who blend analog and digital elements. And while projection art is niche, I don’t feel separated from mainstream visual art communities. This type of art was always meant to be unique and spontaneous.

It all started for me with a projector in my kitchen. Then I upgraded to shining two projectors into my living room. Now, I’m performing at a variety of house shows around Austin and San Marcos for friends involved in the local music scenes, like the record label, Porchfire Records. Important to me is the site-specificity of projection art; a Happening, an occurrence, a one-time performance. The experience of dyeing a plate feels so unique each time, even when elements repeat across shows. 

The most vital aspect of a show is building a cohesive experience for the audience by matching the emotion of the musicians to the movement of the liquids. I’ll move the plates with the tempo and try and color them to the timbre of the music. Last year, my friend Lefty Parker asked me to perform my light show for the closure of the Buzzmill in San Marcos. The energy of the crowd that came out was wonderful, and every musician was immensely talented. It was my favorite performance so far.

I think people want to have some visual element to a concert experience, and that isn’t too common at the level of the local music scene. I’m grateful for the flourishing music scenes in Austin and San Antonio: DIY spots, sick musicians at co-op music showcases, folks selling shirts and prints, spots to thrift, open mics, backyard gallery events. The talents and energies of these artists are inspiring. 

But of course, this is Texas. The arts aren’t considered good investments by our governments and institutions. So social media becomes the space to garner interest, and I think that’s great. At the end of the day, I want my art to be seen by people, and I can curate my Instagram page with specific feels and textures. There’s a very active community of liquid light artists on the internet, all sharing their ideas and learning from each other. I’m constantly inspired by them. Steve Pavlovsky, better known as NYC-based light artist Liquid Light Lab, is a huge inspiration for me. He’s very involved in the community and has worked some of the shows that popularized liquid light, like Nick Mason of Pink Floyd’s Saucer Full of Secrets and the Euphoria Hollywood premiere. He had an exhibition at New York Public Library on the history of 60s’ light shows, makes awesome tutorials, and manages a Facebook page with hundreds of members who all upload their art and techniques. His stuff is sicck.

And with everyone now under quarantine, more online interaction will emerge — you’re seeing it already. From DJs live-streaming “L’amour toujours” from their balconies to the terrible celebrity renditions of “Imagine,” people are trying to come together through the Internet. I expect a lot of live streams, social media posts, and bedroom albums. And hopefully a lot of support for them too. For now, I’m live-streaming shows from my apartment living room and trying to create some work I’m proud of. This is a time to experiment and work on new methods. Once things (somewhat) return to normal, people will once again embrace live experiences, and I’ll have the opportunity to put some new experimentations to the test.