A few months ago, my friend, Hammad, and I went to the Tino Sehgal show at the
This most recent work was entitled “This Progress.” Your journey began at the base of the towering, spiral staircase in the museum, the first time since the building’s opening that the walls were just white, clean of art and the ceiling skylight was opened. It was spectacular to see Wright’s creation as is was intended. Sadly, cameras were not permitted (as with many of Sehgal’s works) and I was being good that day.
We were greeted by a young boy, no older than twelve that boldly confronted us with the question “What is progress?” I can remember the funny inflection in his voice as he asked the only philosophical question I had heard outside of a classroom setting (or in one of the lovely banters my husband and I have).
I think Hammad was a better listener and conversationalist than I was that day. I couldn’t get over the white, spiral staircase. If I wasn’t so afraid of heights I would have slid down that “railing.” Or roller-bladed down the ramp :P. As we continued up the ramp, we encountered teenagers, adults, and finally those in their golden age, each asking or questioning our definition of progression. Some focused more on abstract concepts while others regaled stories from their own lives.
It never ceases to amaze me that in