From the ancient yule log, to catholic and Shabbat candles, in stained glass church windows and intricate mosque shutters, light has been integral to religious and spiritual ceremonies since time immemorial. The Quakers would ‘greet the light,’ as a form of meditation.
So, imagine my delight and surprise of being at the Blanton Museum of Art in Texas during SXSW last month and having a light-induced spiritual encounter at the permanent installation Ellsworth Kelly: Austin.
In January 2015, Kelly gifted to the Blanton the design concept for this a 2,715-square-foot stone building. With white walls and humped roof, the small building looks like a large adobe hut save for the artist’s signature minimalist color blocks..
Yet inside the space, things take on a different scale. The square glass blocks are arranged in a circular pattern. In the East to greet each sunrise, in the West to witness each sunset. The Southern wall and its grid of nine glass squares, allow in the sun year-round.
In winter, with the Sun lower in the southern sky, the light will rise higher along the walls. In spring, the time between sunrise and sunset will lengthen. In summer, the stronger sun, further north now, will create sharper angled beams to concentrate the light closer to the floor. The summer and winter solstice would be turning points in the programing.
(Of course, if another were built in the southern hemisphere, the opposite would occur.)
Then there is the north facing vestibule, without windows, but with a plinth, the height of two or three people standing on each other’s shoulders. Its form, fluted at the top, gives the impression of shoulders and a sense of infinite expansion.
The single piece of wood, is a tree permutated. To align oneself behind this monolith is to reveal a geometric, geographic crossing of all the other vestibules, and all the playing of light from each translucent, tinted arrangement that together points to something much bigger than ourselves.
Then a new friend whispered to me, “You know where you are in the universe when you’re born. And then you’re told, ‘You live here. Your auntie and grandmother live there.' We start to believe the myth of this place, or that place. We forget that we know where we are in the universe."
Kelly’s installation is a chance for spiritual communion and the sermon is simply to notice the light. And in its changing angles, condition, strength or absence, one can remember that moment of being born, of creation, of the Big Bang itself.