A link on Facebook caught my eye the other day: the interactive art installations  “Pixel Forest” and “Worry Will Vanish” by Swiss artist Pipilotti Rist was showing at the Houston Museum of Fine Arts. I messaged Shooney and invited her to go with me, so we met up on a sunny Saturday morning and drove over to the Museum District.

An interactive installation

I struggled with what to call this type of artistic display. “Exhibit” did not begin to describe the movement  and  “experience”  fell short of evoking the size. I skimmed over the museum literature and learned something new: these larger-than-life artistic spectacles are referred to as installations. According to my go-to answer lifeline, Wikipedia, this genre is defined as “3-D works that are often site- specific and designed to transform the perception of space”. The Pixel Forest encouraged us to participate with the elements of the installation, and so therefore was considered an interactive installation.  The Pixel Forest and Worry Will Vanish were actually two installations playing off each other and occupying the same space, transforming  Cullinan Hall gallery into a hypnotic, dream like world.

Pixel Forest

The Pixel Forest

We entered a dark,swaying forest of suspended ropes of LED lights winking with a soft pastel glow. This was the “Pixel Forest”. It reminded me a little of images I have seen of Sargassum Weed floating in the ocean, but much prettier. We were encouraged to weave slowly through the lighted strands which pulsed to a hypnotic soundtrack playing all around us. “What a great introduction to art!”, I thought, as I watched several children dart nimbly through the lighted forest,  never touching or yanking on the suspended lights. Flickering images  projected on the corner walls beyond the light forest beckoned to me, and I made my way towards their cosmic glow.

Worries Will Vanish

Reclining on the bean bags to watch film

We emerged form the Pixel Forest and found ourselves standing on the edge of a carpeted expanse of floor dotted with numerous beanbag chairs. It seemed we were  to recline on the cushions and gaze up at the film, letting the music wash over us. All of the spots were occupied, so we posed casually at attention with a dozen other hopefuls while covertly scanning the space for an empty cushion. Suddenly, as gracefully and dignified as the situation demanded, Shooney began to race-walk a robust elderly woman towards an unoccupied seat. I was relieved to see Shooney yield the floor to her senior, but not before taking up a protective post a few feet away, ready to pounce when the opportunity struck. Eventually, she was able to take possession of the bean bag, and waved me over to settle back and allow our worries to vanish.

Worth the Drive

The film made me feel like a was a particle on a grand voyage through the universe. I recognized the translucent insides of a hand and fingers as I vicariously whooshed through the human body. Just as I was uncomfortably wondering what organ I was passing through, I suddenly  began to float through a garden, sailing by leaves and flower petals. The feeling of peace gave way to disturbing voyeurism as the vignette morphed into a nude torso of a woman jumping up and down in slow motion. “Whoa! Should kids be seeing this?” I thought. I appreciatively noticed not a single child was snorting and pointing at the naked lady as I was expecting. I’m not sure all of my worries vanished while I interacted with this particular installation,  but I enjoyed experiencing and talking about it with my millennial daughter. The cheerful and polite participation of all the young visitors inspired me to bring my own grandkids next time.