In Verdebelvedere, we see Liden contemplating, assessing, then climbing up some wooden hoarding in front of a building site in New York. Using the regulation 12-inch square window-holes, that builders cut into the plywood walls surrounding construction sites, she pulls herself up and into position to climb through. The awkwardness of the diamond orientation of the aperture and the near impossibility of the task, given they are at eye level, compels us to keep watching. The static camera that captures this feat is accompanied by a slow tempo, blown-out techno track that gives a hypnotic rhythm to the perseverance on display. The artist negotiates the hole and slips through. But before we see the satisfaction of her disappearing behind the wall, the video cuts to another segment of the temporary architecture. The same challenge is repeated and again we are denied seeing it complete. This repeats, with each time revealing a different façade – sometimes graffitied, some more dishevelled than others, sometimes at night. With each iteration she gets closer to completion, until on the final panel we see her disappear into the building site beyond, leaving a peep hole into the construction grounds. This is a slapstick, bodily interaction with the built environment that belies some serious critique of urban ‘progress’. The construction of buildings is for people. But for who? Who has access and who does not? As a public, we are granted a view into this world but rarely any real participation. This work is motivated by a desire to experiment with her surroundings and an inquisitiveness about how the soft, flexible body meets a hard bureaucratic façade. But it also playfully talks about permission, access and dissent in a quietly consequential way.