Introduction According to the laws of physics, water occurs in three states—liquid, solid (ice) and gas (mist or fog). But watching the Fountains of Bellagioä, it is quickly apparent that science occasionally must give way to poetry, even when describing the physical aspects of water. Here water exists as music, swaying like a dancer’s arms, rising in a gasp of towering columns or sudden staccato bursts. Here water is a lattice of light, it wreathes the air, shimmies playfully as a showgirl and fans out as a wall of white like the sails of a tall ship blown suddenly full and fast. Here water requires words usually more often associated with mood and personality: majestic, flirtatious, romantic, regretful, and stately even witty. The fountain is inevitably used as a metaphor for joy. Leaping waters, currents that cascade and dance, these images are as close as many of us come to seeing what is more often felt—the surge of exultation, the flutter of love, the geyser of sudden joy. Yet it is not in the molecular nature of water to leap or dance; it is heavier than air and inanimate. To achieve movement, it must be acted upon by an outside source greater than itself—gravity, or the tug of the moon, heat or a sudden rush of air. The Fountains of Bellagio were designed to be superlative, and not just in size. The people creating them wanted to bring sophistication and stateliness to a place better known for glitz, to embody the full spectrum of culture, from Technicolor musicals to Italian opera. They wanted to embody music that over the years has burrowed deep into the collective imagination, the collective heart. So leaving things up to gravity, or even the prevailing water jet technology, wasn’t going to do it. The basis of the work was elemental—water, air, sound and light. But everything else had to be coaxed into existence. Many forces mustered to act upon these waters—fountain designers, engineers and dancers, computer geeks, composers and musicians, scientists and divers, all focused on figuring out how to move the fountains so they, in turn, would move you. Water is not the only thing at work in a fountain; like joy, it requires a confluence of many things: patience, hard work, a lot of luck and a little magic.
