expensive nothingness


If there exists such a thing as a 'typical' kind of James Turrell, this image above is maybe it. Pretty uncomfortable with that generalization since the man works scales that range from telephone booth size to actual craters...but in the middle are rooms tuned to different frequencies of light. The red square in the middle, when you are in the space, pops out of the wall like a glowing television screen. Perhaps it changes color ever so subtley. His work relies on your perception, often a piece only comes to life once your eyes are fully adjusted to the limited light sources.

In actuality, what looks like it is rounding out of the wall is actually a recession into another space beyond. Under the closest inspection, you will not discern any corners or light sources. Occasionally the light tunes to a frequency that makes the light waves hit a standing pattern in the space making visitors then wonder where the scentless 'fog' is coming from.

The magic is in the the relationship between the two spaces and like all magic, relies on the audience giving in to the face value of the illusion rather than strip searching the magician trying to see exactly what is up his sleeve.

A Chelsea gallery recently hosted two Turrell installations. We made the mistake of visiting on the last hour of the last day, after it had obviously been recommended by Time Out/Village Voice pick of the week. The wait was long, the crowd ornry and demanding, the guards gave up on curating proper etiquette.



We waited patiently for some time while everyone crammed up against the opening trying to 'figure it out'. The net effect of this being that no one could actually see the work (you have to stand back from the wall to see it). Once it thinned a bit, we convinced everyone left to take two paces back to the line on the floor to actually see the work as intended.
"OH!" was a satisfying moment.
It lasted for a spell until new folks came in. Including some arrogant, I'd guess Austrian, woman. Now we are crowded in this dimly lit space, our pupils wide and absorbing this ethereal light. She pulls out a disposable camera and snaps a huge, blinding flash picture. What she thought she'd capture escapes me. Ezpei points this out in one of those moments that make him my hero and offends others who don't like their offensive bullshit called out for what it is.

ezpei: "That not only doesn't work, but it blinds the rest of us"
a.a. (arrogant austrian): "It is an experience. I'm experiencing the art"
ezpei: "Getting kicked in the balls is an 'experience' too."

The weekend NYTimes covered Turrell's latest skybox in LA. I'm sure I'm not the only one waiting for this to one day become public...or get invited for a drink by the cat who has this jewel on his property.