We visited the Lightning Field today. It made me realize how clumsy and awkwardly not-poetic the experiencing of an art piece is, particularly when in a group and class setting, where everyone is to be rallied up when it is the determined time to go. Much of this clumsiness is gestural and subtle and can’t really be expressed in words. Some of the aspects, though, include the being interrupted by a call to return when in the midst of a contemplative state, or the check, once gathered, that everybody has had their due experience. It’’s just an odd (maybe) commodification of the experience, treating it as if it were a photo booth or vending machine. When alone, one can take there time, and leave when ready. The experience of solitude with the art also creates a far more intimate experience, where secrets and personal gestures can manifest between the two. It almost makes me wonder at the value of experiencing an art with a group (aside from art that necessarily requires a group experience).