at the Tate

1) and for 30 some meters,

I walked along a corridor

drenched in fog and a bright yellow light.

it was impossible to make out the origin

of this warm and immediate experience.

psychedelic drugs must induce this feeling

or a near-death moment

or the instant of being born

or born again.

2) a little further along,

different sources of light

in various colors and intensities

projected all us folks onto the wall.

kids were dancing,

some kept still and up close to the source

others moved along the wall as though they were caught in pudding.

the layers of our collective identity showed up

there in the room,

which resembled awfully accurately

Plato’s cave:

we were nowhere near the sun,

outside of these factitious realms.

3) and then, there in the pitch black dark

behind heavy velvet curtains

was a water fountain spitting;

however, I could only see the burst

whenever a streak of lightning or very bright flash went off,

somewhere in the hinterlands of the space.

what resulted was a perfectly still capture

of water in mid fall.

oh how miraculous is seems

when two elements together

give our senses a new sensation,

which they didn’t anticipated before.

and so that day

at the Tate

it was all about light and other elements

and us humans interacting

in the moment.

so glad I got to be there

and be reminded that art and magic

are things we, too, make.

Olafur Eliasson truly creates new worlds there at the Tate right now.

And it’s on us to make them come alive.

The arts at their best:

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