conversations i wish i had
an interactive installation involving a pop-up phone booth for you to talk to someone who is no longer around.
Conversations I Wish I Had was the result of a summer-long road trip around the country in my 1970 VW van named Bessie. I started in California, crossed the country, went up to Maine, down the east coast and back to California. It took four months.
Towards the end of my trip as I was driving late into the night through Arkansas, I was reflecting on my summer. If you’ve ever been through Arkansas, you know there isn’t a ton there. I love driving nights like this because the space allows your mind to wander.
That particular night my mind wandered backwards through the previous months. It seemed like everywhere I went, people I met were processing big emotions around life and death. A common theme was people saying they wished they could talk to someone no longer in their life — be it from death, estrangement, or delicate relationships. These people felt stuck and at an impasse — they wanted to process things left unsaid, but couldn’t, and so they felt stuck. I remember thinking how universal this is, having something to say to someone but no one to say it to. I know in my own life I wish I could talk to my mom every day. I know there are things I wish I could say to my dad without an escalation of his anger. These things exist, it’s a part of life.
But I began to wonder: what if we didn’t just accept these things as a part of life, made a space for them amongst our lives? That’s how Conversations I Wish I Had was born. So that you can step into a physical space meant to externally process these conversations.
A lot of people ask me: “but who is the phone booth for?”. My answer: If you can think of something you’d like to say to someone — dead or alive — but are unable to say it to them for whatever reason, then the phone booth is for you.
Since it was built, I’ve taken Conversations I Wish I Had up and down California’s west coast. It’s been to museums, galleries, outdoor walks, and even someone’s backyard.
The way it works is pretty simple: Participants step inside a pop-up phone booth, pick up the phone when they’re ready, and have a conversation. Calls are recorded with consent. People have used the space to talk to estranged family, past lovers, those who have died, grandparents living with memory loss, victims of tragedy, people they've never met but feel connected to, past family pets, and so many more. Some conversations are funny, some are sad, some are shocking, but many are simply ordinary — like a friend talking to another over coffee — and that’s what makes it special. It’s a place to simply be with yourself and your emotions, and speak them out loud.
"when i was a 12-year-old at summer camp, a message on my answering machine informed me that one of my best friends had died in an entirely preventable car accident. coincidentally, it was on the 19th anniversary of her death that i stepped into the phone booth. the experience was surreal; i found myself telling her things i had somehow censored when i visited her grave. the intimacy of the space combined with the openness of the prompts allowed me a certain level of candor i hadn't found in past conversations with her. thank you, morgan."
-MOLLIE