I visited James Turrell's 'light and space' piece at Pomona College on Saturday. I had last seen it two years ago, after the symposium in honor of the opening of this work. At that time, I was a little overwhelmed after several hours of conversation from the speakers at the symposium, and I enjoyed "Dividing the Light," but wasn't really able to focus on it. When you have an artwork that is large-scale, but also about subtle effects that can only be experienced over time, you really have to be careful to create a circumstance where you can give yourself over to what is happening in the moment.
The work is a large canopy floating over a square arrangement of stone benches. The ceiling of the canopy is illuminated by lights that shift in color and intensity according to programs created by the artist. There is a large square aperture punctured through the center of the canopy, like a frame for a particular portion of the sky. Below the opening is a black reflecting pool.
If you ever studied Joseph Albers', Interaction of Color," you would immediately understand the forces at play here. According to the principle of simultaneous contrast our brain tries to establish a neutral field, upon which we evaluate the color of various objects. So if you spend half an hour in a room illuminated by pink light, and then step outdoors, everything seems to have an weirdly bluish cast for a few minutes.
Even though I know the science of how this works, I was amazed at the power of "Dividing the Light." The canopy is eliminated by Lavender light for the first 20 minutes or so, and the sky color through the aperture looks fairly natural. Then, in just two or three minutes the light colors switches to Turquoise, and the sky becomes much more gray. I kept comparing the color of the sky through the aperture, to the sky color to the west, as the sun was setting. At first, they seemed to match, but as the color effects on the canopy became more dramatic, the sky above contradicted the "outside" sky.
I didn't really expect more than a few people to visit this case on a Saturday evening. It's best to get there 30 to 40 minutes prior to the Sunset. The "show" begins 25 minutes before sunset, and continues for about an hour. As I approached the courtyard, I saw several people walking towards it from other directions, and I heard a fairly loud rumble of conversation. And in fact the benches surrounding the reflecting pool were nearly filled and there were about 50 people in attendance.
As is typical, when people are waiting these days, there was a fair amount of e-mail checking, text team, looking at things on mobile phone browsers. There was a nice mix of young and old, and no surprise that this looks like a fairly affluent and educated bunch of people. Several families were there, and what I thought would feel restrained and spiritual, felt more like the beginnings of a family picnic. Anyway, I didn't mind, because the last thing I wanted was some guard telling me not to take any pictures, or not to talk. Once the event began, the audience became very focused, and conversation involved only that delighted sharing of something unusual and beautiful.
The work held people's attention, and they were patient enough to let the color effects develop. About 40 minutes into the program, there were some sudden and dramatic shifts in the intensity of the sky seen through the aperture. It made me happy to see that this work by Turrell, who is one of my favorite artists, was being received with enthusiasm.
In addition to the sky phenomena, a seconary aspect of this piece is just watching the other people watch the sky.
Near the end of the hour, I experienced a dramatic compression of time. It seemed like 10 minutes before I had seen a bright blue sky near dusk, and then, very suddenly, a star appeared in blackness. If you just stare through the aperture, after 45 minutes the edge between aperture and canopy blurs; and at least to me, pink and blue flashes appeared at the edges, and the sky was ink black through the hole, with a bright planet near the zenith. The canopy became very bright white with a pinkish cast. It was the color equivalent of someone suddenly shifting a zoom lens. I thought it was totally effective in producing an intense experience of the transition from day to night.
See this piece for yourself. I took a number of photographs during the program, and not unexpectedly, the objective camera kept "seeing" the same damn colors that were monotonously similar due to the lack of the an overlay of brain processing. I can't think of any other experience that has made me more aware of what my eye 'sees,' in contrast to what my brain was making of the image.
The brochure for "Dividing the Light" says it open to the public Sunday and Monday, from 10 AM to 8 PM. But since it's in an open courtyard on the beautiful Claremont colleges campus, I would assume you could visit on any evening. It's located behind two buildings on the corner of College Way and 6th St. in Claremont California. More information is available at www.Pomona.edu/museum
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