In the Met: Prompt #8

"Outburst" by Judit Reigl (1956), Gallery 921 if interested 

Every time I find myself in the modern galleries at the Met, it is a nice, secluded moment. The lively sculpture galleries and special exhibits have the undeniable external energy of the crowd, but the "surge" of the modern, in works like this one by Judit Reigl, radiate from within the work. Reigl experimented with automatic writing in Paris (though born in Hungary and studied in Italy) and began to produce works that were both additive and subtractive, scraping the industrial paint vigorously with different metal devices. The physicality of her labor radiates through, the result of her task being works that seem to at once absorb and reflect the light. I have read a description that likens these bursts to "forcefields," which wasn't my initial reaction, though I desperately wish it had been because it is so accurate. Each mark feels suspended, as though it exists in both this temporal realm and an unconceivable universe. The tension aroused by the combination of the static and kinetic is captivating, as though it exists somewhere between a frozen still and take-off (... into outer space, in my opinion). 

I'm drawn to these moments of in-between, when "reality" or some visual principle lacks clarity because there is no simple, "really. The "in-between" is like the uncanny, which finds a home in my framework of visual and thematic preferences. With visual engagement, I recently tend to like to feel like I don't know where I'm existing, or that I don't at all (...there's an optical, circular piece in a gallery near this one that I cannot remember name of that makes you lose your mind a bit in a good way when you move around it).