Witnessing the Whitney

Marked by a colossal set of upside down stairs above its entrance, the Whitney Museum of Art conspicuously stood out along the business-congested street. Inside the museum, white walls gave the impression of a very clean, untainted atmosphere; but one quickly realizes that first impressions are often misleading. The stairs leading up are dimly illuminated by the few light bulbs planted into the walls. As if one were walking through a deserted castle, clueless about his surroundings, he frees himself of his expectations and inhibitions to prepare for anything. Paul McCarthy’s exhibit, “Central Symmetrical Rotation Movement: Three Installations, Two Films,” is a show unlike any other, incorporating technology, mirrors, and imagination to procure an experience that seems to distort the very idea of reality.

Is it wrong to think that there is light beyond the darkness? The transition from the dark stairs into McCarthy’s exhibit was nonexistent. The scantly lit room seemed to extend beyond your vision; while your mind fights to try to convince you that it’s all an illusion due to the mirrors that covered the walls. Black and white televisions emitted just enough light for one to walk around without joining the shadows. In the center of center, three massive projection screens are positioned to form a triangular prism. Rapidly moving images flash past each screen, displaying what appear to be random images of people who seem disturbingly familiar.

Upon further inspection through a gap between the projection screens, one can see a machine with four cameras rotating quickly. Trying to figure out the purpose of mysterious device, the observer’s face suddenly appears on all the screens; an attempt to figure the machine out has backfired and you have been the one figured out. Standing in the center, overwhelmed by the images of yourself flashing before you, your other senses suddenly join in. A swirling sound begins to get louder as you hear excitement pick up in the voices of other visitors. Except you can’t see any of their faces since you are within this prism, while yours is exposed on the screens for all to see your confusion. As you lose yourself to the sounds of doors slamming rapidly, and quick chatter among the other visitors, you rush out from the prism to discover the mayhem for yourself.

From dark peace to unencumbered chaos within a couple of minutes, the room is barely recognizable. One finds oneself in disbelief as the room goes from suspended animation to a smorgasbord for the senses. A large rectangular box spins around rapidly, with one door revealing a chair in the center rotating oppositely. Farther off, the walls of a model room slowly close in, while its doors tumultuously slam as people rush to get into or out of the room before its walls completely close in.  The televisions suddenly appear brighter, and more powerful. On the screens are a mix of emotions from a man spinning around in circles without purpose, or the one laughing like a child as he ruins a book by covering it in paint and cotton. The triangular projections in the middle of room lose focus, since anybody is within view of the cameras and there are no subjects on the screens. Slowly, the box stops spinning, the walls of the model room open, and its doors return to suspended animation. And as quickly has chaos had started, it returns to the peace and quiet which had masked a darker side of the contemporary.