Ever wanted to know what it must be like to be subjected to an ineffectual alien probe aboard a spaceship? Me neither, but thanks to my position as a festival critic, I now have an idea.
I’ll admit, my desire to review Anish Kapoor’s Imagined Monochrome installation was not based on anything particularly high-minded – it promised a massage and something about experiencing “monochromatic colour”. OK, a massage. But it sounded interesting and I did have a bit of a stiff shoulder.
Lying on what looked to be an operating table, beneath a ferociously bright, tropically hot panel of white light, I felt the karmic bite of a blithe decision. Eyes shut, I nervously anticipated the lab-coated therapist’s next touch, feeling sweaty and self- conscious and trying to quell a rising sense of panic.
The aliens – by this point I was convinced the “massage” was a ruse – began curiously picking up my fingers and lightly pressing my forehead. They appeared to have gone a little New Age since the last report from Texas. I couldn’t see any “monochromatic colour”, only the inside of my eyelids, illuminated uncomfortably by the light. After 15 long minutes, my captors lost interest (can’t blame them) and I was free to go.
Was it art? I’m not sure. It at least inspired a strong reaction from me, albeit not the one Kapoor hoped to engineer. It was certainly an experience. And if this close encounter follows usual form, I can take solace in the fact it’s one I’ll remember nothing about in the morning.
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