Advent, Day 5: Waiting

LOOK: Other One to Drop by Lisa Walcott

Walcott, Lisa_Other One to Drop — Lisa Walcott (American, 1983–), *Other One to Drop*, 2022. Rubber shoe, thread, motor, wood, ziptie, 3 1/2 × 8 × 2 in. (shoe).

“Waiting for the other shoe to drop” is an American idiom that means to wait for a seemingly inevitable event. According to Dictionary.com, the expression originated in early twentieth-century New York City tenements and refers to when you’d hear your upstairs neighbor kick off their shoe—you knew the second shoe would likewise be smacking the floor any second.

Midwest-based multidisciplinary artist Lisa Walcott plays upon this expression, as well as the fidgety habit of foot tapping, in her kinetic sculpture Other One to Drop. The piece consists of a loafer connected to a ceiling-mounted mechanism that at regular intervals raises the toe up off the ground by a barely visible thread and then lowers it back down, mimicking the body language of one who is waiting. But the piece also requires the viewers themselves to practice waiting, as the inactivity between movements creates a sense of imminence, and the shoe-drop will be missed if you turn away. Here’s a video of the piece in motion:

The artist writes,

The tapping of the shoe conjures ideas of waiting and patience. The repetitive movement is consistent, but the slow pace adds anticipation and may even require some patience as the shoe hovers, finally taps, and repeats. The repetition of movement represents “promise” within the work. Even when the expectation has been demonstrated clearly and consistently, waiting requires patience and anticipation requires trust.

Since its founding at Pentecost, the church has waited for the other shoe to drop, so to speak. The first shoe was God made flesh in Bethlehem. The second shoe will be God’s return, in flesh, at the end of time. Christians are an Advent people, living in this liminal space between the already and not-yet. The liturgical calendar, in its wisdom, assigns us some four weeks each year to lean into that tension, exercising our hope muscles as we wait for Christ to come to us once again.

Walcott is an assistant professor of art at Hope College in Holland, Michigan. Her work “translates elements of daily life, embodies moods, and animates daydreams,” she says. Everyday objects such as brooms, drawers, tablecloths, drying racks, and fly swatters often find their way into her sculptures and installations. Explore more at https://lisawalcott.com/.

LISTEN: “Though for Now We’re Waiting” by Young Oceans, on You Are Fullness (2021)

This wistful instrumental work was composed by Eric Marshall [previously], the lead singer of and songwriter for the ambient alt-rock band Young Oceans. Young Oceans grew out of Marshall’s collaborations with fellow musicians at Trinity Grace Church in Brooklyn, where he served as a worship leader from 2009 to 2018.

The title of this piece, “Though for Now We’re Waiting,” is a dependent clause that anticipates a second clause to complete the sentence. How would you complete it? The last thirty seconds provide a space for pause, for sitting quietly and attentively with the weight of your desire and God’s promise.

This post is part of a daily Advent series from December 2 to 24, 2023 (with Christmas to follow through January 6, 2024). View all the posts here, and the accompanying Spotify playlist here.