By Theary Darnell
Perhaps if one were to visit the Metropolitan Museum of Art on a regular basis, the masses of people through which one needs to navigate in order to be able have the kind of proximity to the pieces which their exquisite detail and contextualizing [plaque] necessitates for a true encounter would become merely part of the setting of those pieces, much like the sidewalk from which springs a happy rose. The assumed intentions of these hordes (to appreciate the art) would fade, and one would no longer need to feel the frustration of anyone not honoring the space of the art as they were before supposed to. Instead, one could find herself on a mission – switching visual gear from focus on the moving positive space of the swarms of people (red) to the more constant yet still in flux negative space, with open art pieces (green), and blocked ones (gray) – to place herself by the green coded pieces, assuming the on guard stance which activates the shield keeping the swarms from getting too close and graying up the art. (The analogous crouching down by the rose to avoid jostling and shoulder swipes, having indicated through body language that one has some conscious intention in her stopping mid-sidewalk, the experience only enhanced by the apathy passing).
But for all those attending the Met for their first time: there is still hope. By creation of William Kentridge and collaborators, a place exists in the museum where the movement of the art carries a stronger presence than the movement of bodies around or within it. Indeed, its voice can be heard over and above the museum goers’ chatter from two floors below, casting spells and shadows of questions, slowly drawing in the curious and the brave (for the sounds are far from soothing). Despite the presence of this piece – entitled: The Refusal of Time – beyond itself (assuming the work to be that which is within the room) it needs to be sought out for the full experience. The audience therefore is self-selected, passing through the theatre-style entrance with – if not yet a sense of reverence for what is to be found within, its close cousin: curiosity.
The room is shrouded in darkness, with walls illuminated by the five-panel projection sequences on three of four sides (all but the opposite wall if entering from the western side). While sound and the question of what could be its creator is the drawing-in element, causal listening quickly falls away, as upon entry around the double corner one is met with visual stimuli which do little more to explain what could be making those harrowing sounds. Where tomblike in character, the perpetually churning central mechanism liquefies time Although combinatory audial visual medium resembles film, walking in midway through the performance leaves the audience with no less (perhaps more, as the introduction is in mere appearance of explanation) of an understanding of what this piece is about. Whether intended or byproduct, Kentridge’s piece has those who enter silence their question of “what is this about?” as the encounter with the piece is so overwhelming to the sense no space is left for intellectualization or reduction.