----- 500 words
----- write about any piece of art that moves/ moved you
----- cannot use the words "transcendent", "ethereal", "divine", and "sublime"
------5:30 pm
----- write about any piece of art that moves/ moved you
----- cannot use the words "transcendent", "ethereal", "divine", and "sublime"
------5:30 pm
Perhaps moved is the
wrong term. This was a work of art that stilled me, art which kept me with it
for a long, long time.
This was in late 2017.
We had gone to the USA for our second innings as grandparents, and, shortly
after that major event, went holidaying in Denver, Seattle, and, finally, San
Francisco. After a couple of days spent with our nephew and his family in the
suburbs, we moved to a hotel in Union Square. After we checked in, our nephew
kindly dropped the spouse at the train station (he had a meeting somewhere),
and left me at the doors of the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art. It was a
day full of much magic and fabulous art, including the art of Diego Rivera, Edward
Hopper, and so many others. I went slowly from room to room, from exhibit to
exhibit, some strange, some marvelous: all amazing experiences.
And then, in a large
room, a circular blue pool, with a light brown wooden surround. A low wall, perhaps
a foot above the ground, at the edge of the surround, with a large gap, or
opening in it, a doorway, as it were, to the pool. Several people were sitting
on that low wall, seemingly enchanted by the installation. Inside the pool,
several flat bottomed white porcelain bowls of different sizes, floating on the
surface of the water, moving along on invisible currents, chiming randomly as
they did so. They gently chimed when they touched, and then moved on. The sound
was soft, gently compelling me to sit and stay awhile. How random were the
encounters of each bowl, how utterly unpredictable! I tried following one
particular bowl for as long as I could, but it was a difficult task. Our human
interactions seemed as random, as governed by chance, as the interactions
between the bowls. I submitted to the experience, allowing myself to be
completely absorbed in the magical, musical clinks as bowl struck bowl.
This soundscape,
called clinamen v.3 (2012-ongoing) was created by the French artist Celeste
Boursier-Mougenot. The title is derived from the Latin term used by the Roman
philosopher Lucretius to describe the unpredictable nature of atoms, in his
poem, The Nature of Things. (According to Wikipaedia, Clinamen is the word Lucretius gave to the unpredictable swerve of atoms. He means that
these atoms don't just fall down, but because of the swerve collisions happen.[1] Lucretius wrote that without this slight swerve (atoms)
would "fall like raindrops and never touch and the world would have never
been made".[1] Lucretius was the first to write about Chaos
theory.[2] )
Atoms or people, to me
it seemed much the same. All encounters, ultimately finite. Ultimately
unpredictable. All random. What forces were at play here, I wondered. Never had
I thought, that of all the wonderful art I have seen in my life, I would be so
utterly and totally enchanted by a small round pool of water with bowls
floating in it!
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