In re-entering the bustle of galleries, museums, and art happenings in this late stage of the pandemic, amid jumpy bouts of re-opening, it’s hard to put a finger on one zeitgeist. When picturing the art world today, a many-faced chimera appears. A behemoth, struggling to its feet, tripping, changing forms as it lurches from Chelsea down to Chinatown. Shifting shapes with each stride, fur and feathers flying.
A scroll of different features flicker across the screen of its face and are hard to recall a moment later. But, every once in a while, one holds its form long enough to have a lasting effect. We hear it clearly over the sensory cacophony. From Suzanne Bocanegra’s Honor at the Met where Lili Taylor masqueraded as an artist obsessed with a colossal tapestry, to Rachel Rose’s film about the shift in 1699 England away from shared land to the alchemy of private property, to Saraceno’s spider/web vibratory experience at the Shed, certain works stick with us. We use this journal as a site to sit with them. We find it a nourishing practice.
Virginia will begin with an artwork that resonated with her. Guadalupe Maravilla’s sound baths are works that unfold over time. The slowness of them helps to center our digitally scattered, anxious attention. She’s shared her experience with them here as a way to sound the bell of a hopeful, healing chapter.