Brian Tolle is fascinated by what we choose to remember, and how we choose to remember it. He often uses history to throw light on the present, combining technology with craft to create public installations that prompt us to reflect, for instance, on the history of a particular site.


Waylay is installed within the waters of the Albert Dock, a site whose chequered history (from working dock to abandoned ruin to heritage attraction) has reflected the changing fortunes of Liverpool itself. Catching us unaware, Waylay appers sometimes playful, sometimes more sinister; it allows us the freedom to respond to it in various ways and to create our own stories around its mysterious presence.

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Brian Tolle is fascinated by what we choose to remember, and how we choose to remember it. He often uses history to throw light on the present, combining technology with craft to create public installations that prompt us to reflect, for instance, on the history of a particular site.


Waylay is installed within the waters of the Albert Dock, a site whose chequered history (from working dock to abandoned ruin to heritage attraction) has reflected the changing fortunes of Liverpool itself. Catching us unaware, Waylay appers sometimes playful, sometimes more sinister; it allows us the freedom to respond to it in various ways and to create our own stories around its mysterious presence.

Waylay awakens ghostly traces of history. Installed in water, the work exists as a series of sporadic splashes, sometimes playful, as if made by a child skimming stones, sometimes more sinister, as if something unknown were falling from the sky. Catching viewers unawares, the work activates space, encouraging contemplation of the site in which it is located. When the work has been shown previously, viewers have also created their own spontaneous narratives to accompany and explain the mysterious splashes.


Submerged in Liverpool's Albert Dock, Waylay activates the complex history of a site at times inextricably linked to the economic status of the city. In its heyday Liverpool controlled 40 per cent of the world's maritime trade and became one of the richest cities in Britain. Profiting greatly from the slave trade, the dock has at times also had a darker role. However, the advent of steam liners, too large for the dock to accommodate, and the gradual decline of the maritime industry ultimately led to a massive loss of income for the city - its impact still felt and visible.


In the wake of the Toxteth riots in 1981, the Albert Dock complex was one of the first sites of regeneration and is now one of the city's most important tourist attractions.


Laurence Sillars

[LESS]
Waylay awakens ghostly traces of history. Installed in water, the work exists as a series of sporadic splashes, sometimes playful, as if made by a child skimming stones, sometimes more sinister, as if something unknown were falling from the sky. Catching viewers unawares, the work activates space, encouraging contemplation of the site in which it is located. When the work has been shown previously, viewers have also created their own spontaneous narratives to accompany and explain the mysterious splashes.


Submerged in Liverpool's Albert Dock, Waylay activates the complex history of a site at times inextricably linked to the economic status of the city. In its heyday Liverpool controlled 40 per cent of the world's maritime trade and became one of the richest cities in Britain. Profiting greatly from the slave trade, the dock has at times also had a darker role. However, the advent of steam liners, too large for the dock to accommodate, and the gradual decline of the maritime industry ultimately led to a massive loss of income for the city - its impact still felt and visible.


In the wake of the Toxteth riots in 1981, the Albert Dock complex was one of the first sites of regeneration and is now one of the city's most important tourist attractions.


Laurence Sillars