12 Sep

James Turrell is James Turrell. You need to queue up Disneyland style to see his ‘The Ganzfield Piece’: two empty but weirdly bigger-on-the-inside spaces defined by a discombobulating, illusory, changeable coloured light. Unfortunately I didn’t see anybody freak out or fall into it in a state of confusion, as people have apparently done sometimes. That was disappointing. When other people were in there I fantasised about giving them mental breakdowns by going around the back and whispering in a VALIS-like voice that reality is a lie, the universe is run by multidimensional machine elves, and so forth.

Saying that it’s a beautiful, meditative experience is probably somewhat redundant because that’s what everyone always says. It’s still a beautiful, meditative experience when there’s a queue of people huffing and puffing because they’re waiting to be allowed in and several minutes is far too long for them to be thwarted in their selfish desires. And even the possibility that a work of art- especially one consisting of just light, space and time- could mess with a person’s head to such a degree that they forget how to stand up is testament to Turrell being an actual, authentic artist.

Unlike, say, some moron who stacks bits of metal and wood against a gallery wall.

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