I was invited to submit a project to Winkel and Balktick's annual "Stranded" party, an event for people in the Burning Man community that, for whatever reason, are not at Burning Man. This year the party's theme was the Galapagos Islands, dovetailing off Burning Man's "Evolution" theme. One thing I really like about Winkel and Balktick's parties is that they focus significant attention on creative works in the event space. Fiscal support of art projects is actually built into the budget. Thinking about ocean islands, extinction, and evolution, I remembered a childhood game from elementary school fairs: for one ticket you could rent a fishing pole, "bait" it with a paper fish and dip it behind a booth. Behind the booth, below your line of sight, an attendant would remove the fish and replace it with a piece of candy and tug on your line. Awesome! I wanted to recreate this interaction model, but in three dimensions. So I constructed a triangular "pier" or "shore" from plywood stage platforms, inside which a 12'x12'x17' "pond" of folded poster board was suspended. Prospective fishers left their shoes for collateral at the Fishin' Pole Rental station and received a fishin' pole, a temporary fishin' license, and access to materials with which to construct their own bait: play-doh and pipe cleaners. Once their bait was ready, fishers climbed onto the shore, lowered their bait into the fishin' hole, and waited. Underneath, Fishin' Hole staff exchanged bait for beer fish (a can of PBR with googly eyes, fins, and a tail), water fish (a water bottle with googly eyes, fins, and a tail), or candy fish (candy taped to a paper cut-out of a fish). Creative bait was rewarded with beer fish. Bait that took some effort was rewarded with water fish. Half-ass bait was rewarded with candy fish, if anything. Sometimes fishers got a bite within a couple minutes. Sometimes they spent thirty minutes without a nibble. The pond was pretty much fished to extinction by the time we left at 3 a.m. Reactions were enthusiastic, as they are any time you're giving away free beer. While there were certainly some petulant and entitled moments, many fishers were creative, excited, and grateful, and really, the evening was a smash success. Perhaps most important, the patrons were very happy. Balktick cited the Fishin' Hole as his favorite interactive art project, and Winkel invited me back. Some of the best interactions of the night were completed unplanned and unexpected. One reveler showed up to the party with an alligator hand puppet, found his way underwater, and started snapping at fishing lines. The fishers LOVED it and for long stretches of time completely forgot about the original task at hand because they were too busy trying to feed the alligator. Heather, who was helping under water, decided she didn't want the second half of a sandwich she'd brought along and decided to hook it to a fisher's line. That catch became a legend; for the rest of the evening, people were asking if the pond was stocked with any more sandwich fish. Unfortunately, because the project was so conceptual, the photos don't do it much justice, and one of the main things I would improve is the Fishin' Hole's aesthetics. But the project turned out to be pretty evocative: Transactions are typically judged by their speed and efficiency, but the Fishin' Hole purposefully created a communication barrier which slowed down the transaction and created less precise communication. Though spoken language is more precise than play-doh figurines, it isn't perfect either. Creative works are often meant to last and be admired by many, but fishers created art objects for bait that were intentionally ephemeral. Many collective hours were spent crafting play-doh and pipe cleaner masterpieces, only for them to never be seen again. For urban dwellers, fishing is neither safe nor are opportunities readily available. Engaging in a simulacrum of the exercise seems a crude gesture, but is a strangely comforting reminder of the uncertainty and chaos we're surrounded by, whether in the middle of the woods or a bustling city. I continue to be really interested in interactive party art. It can create really magical experiences for the less-than-sober, and the limitations are challenging: The project can't be fragile or too precious. The interaction model must be immediately apparent or easily explainable. The project must reward interaction immediately but must also reward sustained interaction. The project cannot rely on audio. Really, I'm quite proud of the Fishin' Hole and can't wait to do it again. Super huge thanks to Matt, Albert, Heather, Naomi, Jen, Aaron, and Abe for all your tremendous help. I couldn't have done it without any of you. Thanks, friends!