James Turrell: Look at What the Light Did Now

I am enamored with light. In my everyday life, I often am distracted by the playful dancing of light and shadows projected through windows and onto the interior space of my home. Walking through art venues I am captivated by installations by artists like Olafur Elíasson, Robert Irwin, Ellsworth Kelly, and Dan Flavin. The works by these particular artists are meditative — the light in the works shifts the viewer’s perception (and in turn perspective) in subtle ways. So, when a new James Turrell Skyspace announced its opening in my hometown of Fort Worth, I jumped at the opportunity to attend a preview of the installation.

Keith House

The Skyspace, titled Come to Good, is situated within Keith House, a nonprofit meeting space that sits along the Trinity River, a connective line through the city where people bike and walk and that is dotted with playgrounds, restaurants, and other communal spaces. The meeting room at Keith House is arranged like many other Quaker meeting spaces, with pews that are all on the same level (none raised higher on a platform or stage) and face each other. While the intention is to create a place where all are equal and arranged in a somewhat intimate manner, looking directly at each other, I imagine with a full house it could feel intimidating, or perhaps simply vulnerable. Though, for viewing the installation that might never be an issue as Come to Good occupies the ceiling and pulls the viewer’s attention upwards. Over the course of 40 minutes, a light sequence unfolds around a square-shaped hole that reveals the sky. Because of the duration of the experience, viewers can bring pillows or blankets and are welcome to lie down. As the sequence began, I removed my shoes and quickly laid across a pew.

Inside Keith House

In the first minutes, my mind raced. I stared at the square-shaped sky and considered the TV screen, which was originally more square-shaped than it is now. I thought about the screens that we stare at and how they are made up of pixels, tiny squares of light. Perhaps my mind went there because I’ve been watching a lot of TV lately. I reflected on why I’ve been doing this. I’m not watching the news, rather I’m revisiting and binging old favorites. It is a source of comfort in what has been a tumultuous season. I inundate myself with these things because doing so enables me to turn off my brain. The TV acts as a wall, a dam, an impenetrable structure that keeps my brain from delving too deeply into the realities of this moment. 

James Turrell, “Come to Good”

As I considered these things, the colored light of the ceiling slowly shifted, altering my perception of the color of the sky. Within the space, white light shifted to fuschia and then to aqua, causing the sky to change from bright blue to a more muted tone and then nearly purple. I quickly looked out the window to assess the reality of the sky, but realized that the windows are tinted and cannot reveal the truth. So, I relaxed into the uncertainty of the experience. Looking back at the square I considered how Turrell’s piece, unlike staring at a screen, acted as a sieve, allowing my thoughts to pour through the experience of close looking. Come to Good was a conduit that did not suppress my inner dialogue but channeled it through me. 

James Turrell, “Come to Good”

The lights continued to fluctuate to lighter and darker shades of purple and blue and then to orange and pink, even at one moment a bright green. Simultaneously the sky was both darkening as time passed and being affected by the adjacent light. It was like experiencing an animated Josef Albers color theory work but without the knowledge of the truth of the colors. 

A grid of photographs of James Turrell’s “Come to Good”

Laying on the pew I realized how individualistic the experience felt. I was accompanied by a friend, but we were having our own unique experiences and in the process of looking up, everyone else in the room fell out of my periphery and my thoughts. The hosts reentered the room when the sequence ended. I sat up and was suddenly reminded of the people who shared the room with me. I searched their faces for evidence of their experiences. Some seemed to have been in tears, others were more jovial. 

For me, being there was a needed moment of reflection as the year ended and we looked ahead to the unknowable future. It brought me face-to-face with things I have been compartmentalizing and reminded me of the power of the energy we surround ourselves with. Heading into the new year I’ll keep in mind some lessons learned:

• ignoring a thing can help momentarily, but there will come a time to address it
• the people and things we keep near can act as enhancements or dilutions 
• change is inevitable, and even the stark and strange moments can bring about constructive realizations
• even when we feel alone, we are surrounded by community, and need only to recognize and engage with them.