Monday, April 23, 2012

Saturation Point



It wasn't my first impression upon entering, although the Suprasensorial exhibit at the Hirshhorn in Washington, D.C.  has been described as "dreamy, otherworldly and transcendent," and inasmuch as I was fascinated by the merging and manipulation of light, color and space, I was discomforted, disoriented—yet, in retrospect, nourished by discomfort and disorientation, perhaps, in a dreamy, otherworldly and transcendent way.  
  
Maybe it was the slamming cold and grey drizzle of the city, the otherworldliness of the Hirshhorn building itself, which appears on the capital's mall as a concrete UFO that fell from the sky like a giant meteoroid too weighty to ever again lift itself, or the whimsical, if not disturbing, bean-bagged, stone-faced, bronze sculpture of Last Conversation Piece, by Juan Muñoz (which I could not bring myself to leave—what were they saying, what was the last conversation, what will it be?) that awaited us on the plaza by the unmerciful spaceship's entrance—yes, it was all these things, these things I do not really understand, yet these things, everything, seemed to be telling me something, imploring me to try to understand. The question, then: How does one approach the unknown
 
Eagerly, said the children, who darted through a radiant swath of blue brightened by a fluorescent fence. An open, yet bound space. Meanwhile, I paused, glanced cautiously at my sister.

Lu and her cousin slipped on white booties and dove into, got giddy with, an illumination of green, magenta and blue—a sensory experience that stirs moods.

What does it mean? This is how I approach the unknown.


Several days have passed since visiting the Hirshhorn. I left full. Uncertain of what I'd experienced, as if it were alien (and it was, in many ways), but certain I'd experienced it fully. It's meaning, it seems to me now: challenging questions—questions and disquietude that keep us from engaging in, or even approaching—in one sense or another— new, oddly different, experiences. 

Uncomfortable experiences.

Walk into it. Walk through it. Immerse. Let it saturate the senses. Fully. Whatever it shall mean.

52 comments:

  1. This is brilliant on so many levels, Jayne. How marvelous to be filled with the mysterious, the unknowable, the unexpected, the strange. Yes, yes, what pure advice which we must observe to be truly present and alive:

    "Walk into it. Walk through it. Immerse. Let it saturate the senses. Fully. Whatever it shall mean."

    May I quote you on that, Jayne? xo

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    1. Melissa- Quote, absolutely. And maybe if I read it enough, I will make sure to always nudge myself beyond the discomfort or fear! ;)

      I'm still processing last week's trip to the mid-atlantic--it was a real feast through which I proceeded, walked into and throughout, without taking a single note. Perhaps, though, having reached the saturation point without the distraction of notation, it was possible to more fully ingest/digest. Satisfying, yes.

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  2. Love your description and photos. Never been to the Hirshhorn. Glad you got to see such a fasinating exhibit.

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    1. Elizabeth- You're not too far from D.C.! Such a great city. We didn't overdo it with the museums, which I think was key. The only other place we went to was the Smithsonian American Art Museum, which was fabulous. The portrait gallery, and exhibits are remarkable, and I think we spent, at the very least, 3 hours there. I have no idea what the kids did (aside from running through the entire place--while, probably, being asked to stop running and to be quiet) there, but I looked at nearly everything. Ha!

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  3. "How does one approach the unknown?/Eagerly"

    If we listen to the children, we will know what to do.

    A poem of a post.

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    1. Susan- Haha! Well, I don't know about listing to my children. They scare me sometimes! But you're right--all that unbridled everything is inspiring. Reminds us to just enjoy/have fun. Did a lot of that this past week. :)

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  4. This looks extremelu cool Jayne - saturated too...

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    1. David- It was terrific--not just the Suprasensorial, too. Lots of interesting and weird art that makes you stop and wonder. I loved seeing Warhol's Flowers (the white and blues) in the flesh or touchable canvas (no, I didn't touch!)? ;)

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  5. Ahhh, children have a remarkable ability to just be in the moment and absorb what's happening around them with uncluttered minds.

    After passing through the "cold" blue room did the magenta light make you feel warm and safe? Did the green light begin to make you feel cold and foreign, wanting to retreat? But not as far as the blue room? Hmmm. Looked like an interesting experience!

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    1. Don't they ever! Wish I could absorb with such uninhibited mind and speed.

      Ha! The green/magenta/blue room had me weirded out, I must admit. My eyes felt wobbly. But the green aura was actually calming, and the magenta made me smile. (I mean, how can it not?) Fun day there-I love the city, but I still won't volunteer for next year's 8th grade weekend trip to D.C. The itinerary! Ack--talk about saturation point... ;)

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  6. Of course, those fearless children....

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  7. I too always want to give meaning to the unknown so I can understand it, and I don't rest until I find that meaning. If there is no meaning, I invent it. Good or bad. So it is with me.

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    1. Ha! Rubye, I so enjoy your style. Invention is the mother of necessity, eh?

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  8. I love when you leave somewhere and you feel goofy for days after. It shows we've stepped out of the norm.

    Sometimes things like that just need time to sink in before you understand it.

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    1. Loree- that happens to me often--feeling goofy for days. Sometimes I leave home and feel goofy for the afternoon. But even better to be traveling and return all goofy. :/

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  9. Looks like you got your mojo back, JG. That was fun. Glad we got to share it with you. Thanks for ruminating on it. Imagine how much less we would have "known" had the kids not been with us. Lucky us!

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    1. Betty, dear- 'twas fun, indeed. And a bonus that we should be in the same city at the same time w/out having planned it so! Those kids--teaching their parents well. ;)

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  10. Brilliant exhibit! I would love to experience this. And this is just the color spectrum visible to the naked eye. Can you imagine what we can't see? (or hear?)

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    1. Ah, Leonora, so true! This is what, I think, really penetrates the mind and soul--those invisible sounds and colors that seep into our senses, and work their magic. :)

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  11. been quiet around here. glad you're back to liven things up, jayne. what a great exhibit. those colors!

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    1. Good to be back, here, m. The exhibit was only one of the many delights at the Hirshhorn. The sculpture garden is really something, and I would love to go back on a sunny day to spend more time with all the garden weirdness. ;)

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  12. huh, neat space. I think I would have blissed out in the cobalt room. Maybe I should redocorate. ;)

    There was a temporary exhibit at the National Art Gallery in Ottawa where there was a kind of walk thru play structure using complementary colors and lighting to give a smaller scale version of messing with one's senses.

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    1. Oh, Pearl- Imagine how the children would approach that? I'd never get them to leave. This particular exhibit had a section called Penetrable--a walk through a square of blue rubber spaghetti-like strands hanging from a ceiling frame. Pictures I took of it don't do it justice. Very otherworldly to walk through strands of blue spaghetti. Calming giggles. Afterwards, I definitely felt like my senses had been messed with. :)

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    1. Dale- HA! Like an alien, eh? LOL. Whatever it shall mean... ;)

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  14. I would love to soak up those colors! I bet blue does not cause one to feel blue. It must be a new show. I've been to the Hirshhorn and didn't see it. My blogger friend Naomi at http://sitteninthehills64.blogspot.com/ Here in the Hills is Joseph Hirshhorn's daughter and has blogged about many of the pieces that her father eventually donated.

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    1. Colleen- no I didn't feel blue in the blue. It was startling when I first encountered it, though.

      Thanks for the link. I looked up Naomi--she's sweet. Also, had read about Hirshhorn and his collections, but I do want to go back and read what Naomi wrote about her father and the museum.

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  15. It sounds and looks like a very interesting experience. I'd love to see that, sometime. I suspect you're not alone with the feelings of uncertainty and I imagine they quite planned it that way. Yes, I'd love to see it for myself.. only because you expressed the experience so well. Thanks for that.

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    1. Yes, Hilary, I think you'd enjoy the Hirshhorn. Certainly, its sculpture gardens! Oh, great photo ops there. The uncertainty thing, hmm, quite possibly planned yes. In the case of the Sensorial exhibit, for sure.

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  16. Hi Susan- Loved the way this read. Finding out the background, describing the experience and then asking the big question. The Hirshhorn sounds very cool indeed. Kind of like a mega deCordova. I like the UFO comparison, it does! Interesting way of saying, "we welcome all levels of understanding". Kind of like, let your mind go. To top if off, free admission. Backs up their mission statement, for sure.

    I'd like to say I had a definitive answer for the unknown, but I don't. I can't help but admire and applaud the kid's attitude. Great post.

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    1. Scott- If you visit Washington, it's worth taking in the Hirshhorn. I was hard to narrow down the list of must sees--the Smithsonian and other museums have so much to offer--but the Hirshhorn is so very different that I couldn't resist. There's also an exhibit--Dark Matters--at the Hirshhorn that I wanted to see, as well as the sculpture gardens. The gardens: incredible the work by famous artists around the world.

      The unknown: Like Susan said. "If we listen to the children, we will know what to do." (Well, I'd be careful of mine! ;))

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  17. So very good to see your lyrical self back here in usual form. (When you went "dark" during the trip, I saw a single tweet from you -- then in Maryland, I think -- and thought, Whew. :))

    Next time I'm in DC, the Hirshhorn is on my list. (Now kicking myself for having overlooked it before.) I despair that the Suprasensorial exhibit will have likely moved on by then, but if so, I can still revisit this from you.

    In the meantime, one tries hard not to draw obvious lessons, in the "How to approach the unknown?" question, for someone who resists taking a giant creative plunge which she is clearly and by any measure equipped to take. Er, not that I'm thinking of anyone in particular. Don't read too much into the feminine pronoun. (But DO read enough into it, ha!)

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    1. Oh that tweet, JES, drove me crazy. Can't quite figure out how to post text or photo from my phone.

      It's worth a stop in at the Hirshhorn. There were many "I don't get it" moments, but there's much to ponder. Visit on a nice day more conducive to strolling its gardens. They're remarkable.

      Obvious lessons, er, um, yes, for someone especially who tends toward finding meaning in all. I wonder if failing to take a plunge has something to do with holding one's breath, cold waters (and brain freeze!), or fear of sinking to the bottom. But, you know, if you know how to swim, you might as well swim. Unless, of course, there's a sailboat. ;)

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  18. Golly...that is so cool...the piece and the artwork...im gonna paint my entire abode like that..it looks so stark and alien like...
    approach the unknown without a seconds hesitation i say...:)

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    1. Ha! Dan, I hesitated. I didn't walk away, though, so I'll give myself credit for that. I might steer clear of that deep blue, it's pretty arresting on the walls. ;)

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  19. Jayne: So pleased you took a listen and enjoyed Acadia. It did seem to me to evoke the landscape just as I remember it, and to have you validate that, well! BTW, I do hope you saw the credit to you for spotting Atlas on Soundcloud. Not only did I not see it (and of course, I try to keep track of these things), but even Mattingly's mother, I later learned, hadn't spotted it. And you can imagine what a gift that was! Anyway, wanted to thank you for all and sundry over my way!

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    1. It's a gorgeous piece, Susan, and I'm so glad that you introduced me to it. Lots of talented musicians, in all genres, out there. I never tire of learning about them. I didn't see the credit, and it's not necessary--I'm always happy to share information when I can--but thank you for doing so.

      Happy travels, Susan! :)

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  20. I want to approach life as children do. Headlong, full of glee. In some ways I am doing that now, when I did not do that as a child. Thank you for this reminder Jayne. Your words are wonderful.

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    1. Bill--Headlong w/glee--I did it as a kid, and I hope to continue doing it as an adult--with a little more wisdom and filter, though. Heh. ;)

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  21. This is fantastic. What a splendidly surreal experience. It looks like you and the girls had quite the sensory adventure.

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    1. Thanks, B. Very cool place, and great exhibits. I'll bet there's some beautiful light in CO this time of year. It was late March when I was out there several years ago, and I remember the brilliance of the spring sun rising and setting. :)

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  22. gosh, i'd never heard of the international light and space movement before reading this but it explains a lot of stuff that's been puzzling me for years. congratulations on staying forever young!

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    1. I hadn't heard of it prior to this exhibit either, Biily. You're right--I'm mining a lot of answers from it. ;)

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  23. We don't always have to understand. Not everything. Art, poetry, music, the exhibits in a museum - if they make us think, make us ask questions, engage our curiosity, answer a need for stimulation - then they have already fulfilled their purpose.

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    1. Friko- The great secret of the world is that we will never know its secrets, right? Well, I guess it's not really a secret. I enjoy being challenged, made to look at things differently, even being perplexed at times. And having no answers is Ok--but I sure would like to understand a heck of a lot more than I do. ;)

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  24. Dear Jayne,
    to approach the unknown is the everyday question of Life, isn't it? We think that we know, we build little rituals, we love to think life is sure - and I hope of course it is. But deep down we know that it is a great adventure - and when we follow the example of the children and mount into those light-boots it gets exciting!

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    1. Britta--Yes, building rituals is very comforting, an insurance of sorts for the things we'll never understand. At least we have the rituals (only sometimes, we don't even know why!). "An adventure," I think, is the healthiest perspective relative to the unknown. I'm slipping my boots on. ;)

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  25. I have taken this post into me. Like a strange, savory cake that I hope will become a part of who I am long after the initial impressions have lingered on my tongue.

    Some of my favorite bits:

    'inasmuch as I was fascinated by the merging and manipulation of light, color and space, I was discomforted, disoriented—yet, in retrospect, nourished by discomfort and disorientation,'

    and

    'yes, it was all these things, these things I do not really understand, yet these things, everything, seemed to be telling me something, imploring me to try to understand. The question, then: How does one approach the unknown?

    Eagerly, said the children, who darted through a radiant swath of blue'

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    1. Suze- Strange, savory cakes appeal to me, too, so long as their's no bitter aftertaste! Heh.

      The whole of the day in Washington, in fact, was strange and savory. I really need to get back there to explore more of the museums. I've visited D.C. many times, but it was usually for work. It was so great to take it in the way we did--no worries, no deadlines. :)

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