If you haven’t heard of sploshing, that’s OK. It’s the act of putting food on another person and eating it off of them, generally for pleasure (thanks Urban Dictionary—this one hasn’t made it into Webster’s yet). Last month in Brooklyn, artist Martha Burgess put together an exhibit called “Cake Sit” in which people would splosh, sort of. The action at the exhibit consisted of bare butted people sitting on cakes. And if that sounds like kind of a weird thing to call art to you, welcome to the club. But Charlotte Druckman wrote a piece about her experience at “Cake Sit” for The Paris Review and her piece contains some fantastic descriptions. Here are the best ones.
It’s not a cake sit unless the cakes are in exactly the right order:
The first round of sploshers had already begun to place their cakes on this bench; Ms. Burgess rearranged them according to her aesthetic preference. Sitting atop the bright, violet surface, the single-file line of confections looked like a Wayne Thiebaud still life.
Some people really went all out to prepare for the day:
[Tran] was wearing bright red pants, which she’d bought for the occasion; they matched her cake, which she’d baked using a box mix of strawberry batter. The finished, layered product was covered with textured swoops of white icing and dotted with tiny red-hots. She was going for a Roy Lichtenstein Ben-Day effect.
Some sploshers get nicknames:
Back in Gowanus, I trailed Arcadia Hartung, whose name I’d learn later—after I’d dubbed her “Fabulous,” because that’s what was printed on the back of the underpants she wore when she lowered her bum into her cake—
Gross. Not much more to say than gross:
They sat. It was done. Burgess asked them to stay, plonked down and sinking into their cakes, so she could take photos. While they waited, a few of them stuck their fingers into their cushions and tasted.
For some, it brought back memories long forgotten:
I was experiencing the cathartic thrill of destroying all the birthday cakes belonging to my little first-grade classmates...
Perhaps the value is not in the sploshing but in the sploshed:
Regarding the encounter between a human’s hindquarters and a cake,” she explained, “I’m drawn to the object that is produced as a result of the process, and I feel that this result may be more important than the accident itself.