[I posted this as a response to this post, but felt I should post what I wrote in a separate post, as well.]
The quietest place I’ve ever been was just inside Joseph Beuys’ “Plight” installation (1985) at the Centre Pompidou in Paris in 2007. I will never forget the experience... I could hear my own heart beating without even trying to slow my breathing down. It was unreal.
It wasn’t a busy day at the museum so it was generally quiet (plus the installation was put in a section that’s intentionally away from external noise), so I just stayed there for a long time, I’m not even sure how long -- 30 minutes? An hour? More? It always stuck with me, not just because of the silence the installation creates/causes, but also because there’s something incredibly beautiful about it, and the piece is extremely personal and autobiographical:
“For this experiential work, Beuys covered the space with rolls of felt, his favourite material, that is linked to a persona, a mythology.“
“As an aviator during the Second World War, Beuys crashed in Crimea; he is said to have been saved by Tatars who rolled him up in felt blankets. The thermal and acoustic insulation inherent in the material is signified here by a closed piano, a blackboard with a musical staff without notes, and a thermometer. When the visitor enters the space, all the senses are called upon. This ambivalent environment gives an impression of warmth and protection, but also of isolation and silence.” (Via the Centre Pompidou)
Here are a couple photos of Joseph Beuys and his installation at the Anthony d'Offay Gallery in London in 1985:
andulkaphoto
turnnoffyourmind
origamiaround
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prguitarman
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