Ninety years is no small thing. The park wanted to celebrate it right and came to us with a brief: "We want a show that makes the whole city gasp." We pitched an idea that made everyone’s jaw drop: what if you don’t watch the show — you become it?
So that’s what we did. On Golovinsky Pond, we built a giant pontoon in the shape of the number 90 — which, from a distance, read as GO. Simple, but it hit hard: "Move. Go. Create." Because a park isn’t its lampposts and flower beds — it’s the people who fill it.
Guests walked on water (yes, literally), and life was buzzing all around them. Poets read Mayakovsky, a couple straight out of the 1920s kissed in a rowboat, athletes shot hoops, an orchestra thundered across the water. Light, projections, reflections, music — the kind of celebration where even the air seems to spark.
We floated an entire city on the water, built out of plastic pontoons, and ran light, sound, and performance through it to turn the pond into a living stage. At dusk the whole thing lit up, and it felt like the park itself was breathing along with the crowd.
The message was simple: don’t watch — take part. And everyone did. We turned the people themselves into the show.