This piece began with the idea that any moment in life can be beautiful, if only we have the time and presence of mind to appreciate it. The aesthetification of everyday experience is an idea that has fascinated me since my junior year of high school. After beginning a regular meditation practice this fall, I was struck by how much control the mind has over what it experiences. The clarity of mind and heightening of senses that resulted from my practice made me realize that it is possible for us as humans to unlock incredible appreciation for and of “everyday” experience. This idea, that mindfulness or awareness can transform our experience, immediately reminded me of art and how the gallery context allows us to experience an object or installation as “art” whereas if we encountered the same object or installation in another context, we would not perceive it as “art,” and thus not take the time to appreciate it aesthetically or consider its meaning, whether subjective or objective.

 

In this piece, entitled “Walking Intervention,” I have attempted to subtly invite viewers to increase their awareness of themselves and their surroundings. I struggled at times during the process of this piece to define what exactly I was doing by placing these A-frame sandwich boards along public walkways. I had trouble calling it a “Happening” or an “Action” or even a public installation, since none of these terms seemed to communicate the unique significance of the way the viewer was interacting with the piece. The piece itself was not intended to be appreciated. The object of appreciation was suggested to be everything BUT the piece, everything about where the piece was and who was doing the appreciating. Thus, I have chosen to conceive of this style and intention of an art piece to be an “intervention,” and in this context, more specifically, a “spatial intervention.” I especially like this term for its suggestion of activeness on the part of the artist, since I very much felt like I was performing when I was placing the signs in the different locations. I felt bare and exposed in the same way I do when I am aware of myself onstage as an actor.

 

The most rewarding part of this piece’s production came from reading the responses within the tiny Moleskine notebooks that I left attached to each sign (with a pen). Inside was an invitation to “Respond and Reflect” as well as a few sample responses that I and a friend had written in order to encourage engagement. The responses ranged from the random (“I heart squirrels”) to the direct (“Don’t know what this is but it made me think”) to the aesthetic (a tiny poem) to the philosophical (a dialogue among different responders about what it means to be “exiting” in the context of one’s life). The first kind I had expected and was not annoyed by. The second kind was extremely validating and made me feel that the piece was successful in its intention of encouraging awareness and making something new and special out of the typically everyday. The third kind was not a type of response I had anticipated, although I believe it also speaks to the success of the piece’s intentions. The fourth kind was surprising to me, and extremely exciting. The idea that there could be a social layer to my piece, that my responders/viewers could make more out of it than I had originally intended, that there could be a sort of interactive, participatory meaning building taking place beyond my original intentions, intrigues me immensely. Though I have already done so in this statement, I would prefer not to refer to this piece in a binary fashion of “successful” or “unsuccessful.” Instead I feel that I have made several steps in a good and interesting direction, steps that I hope to build on with future pieces and projects to explore what it means for a community to communally build “art” out of its usually non-art experiences. I am happy with this project, limited and short term as it was, and look forward to continuing to explore the lessons I have learned in my later works.

 

 

 

The images below were generously photographed by Sarah Reid, Harvard '15.