Meetings: Phenomenological Experience in James Turrell and Quaker Meeting Houses
ARHI 4600: Senior Seminar
December 18, 2019
Kathryn HornyakAmerican artist James Turrell (b. 1943) uses light as his primary medium to create immersive installation works informed by perceptual psychology. Turrell himself is a Quaker and the fact Quaker spirituality has informed his work is self-evident, but rarely discussed in critical scholarship which tends to center formal analysis of his work. Yet, Turrell is associated with a general, less clearly defined spirituality in the popular imagination Words like “meditative” and “spiritual” are often employed when describing personal experiences of his work. In fact, a Vogue article from 2018 describes Turrell’s Meeting (1980-86) located at the MoMA PS1 as “the best meditation chapel in New York.”1 Turrell’s Quakerism is addressed in nearly every major interview with the artist, many of which include the same anecdote, which I paraphrase here: as a child on the way to a Quaker worship service, Turrell’s grandmother leaned down and explained to him that they were going inside to greet the Light.2 Often the discussion stops at the convenient analogy between light imagery in Quakerism and Turrell’s medium of choice, but I posit that there is a more substantive connection between the two.
Thomas Crow expands the discussion of Turrell’s Quakerism in his book No Idols: The Missing Theology of Art, part of the Power Polemics series sponsored by The University of Sydney. After hundreds of years of religious art, Crow argues, “religious art” did not simply end with modernism. Crow looks to Rothko, Robert Smithson, Colin McCahon, Corita Kent, and Turrell as examples of how the relationship of art to religion has not ended, it has merely changed.3 However, Crow conducts a primarily biographical reading of how Quaker morality has factored into Turrell’s career: his multiple, more “useful” career pit-stops before accepting himself as an artist, his anti-Vietnam War activism for which he was jailed, and his eventual participation in the art market which began as a way to raise funds for his yet in-progress
magnum opus, the Roden Crater, and has now exploded to include such high profile clients, donors, and admirers as Drake.4
However, I seek to define what it is about Turrell’s work that has given it a spiritual connotation in the public imagination beyond biography, and I do so by asking how, if at all, the influence of Quakerism is present in observable, formal and phenomenological elements of his installations The formal qualities of Quaker places of worship, called meeting houses, have offered me a fruitful parallel with which to explore this question through spatial and phenomenological analysis.
In this paper I will argue that the spiritual resonance of Turrell’s work is located within the phenomenological experience of seeing oneself see, and, I add, the less frequently explored experiences of sensing oneself feel and hearing oneself think that are produced by his work. Using Turrell’s Meeting (1980-1986) at the MoMA PS1 as a case study, I argue that these selfreflexive “turns inward” echo the phenomenological effects of Quaker meeting houses. I will begin by discussing Meeting’s relationship to Quakerism. Next, I will give a brief overview of the concept of phenomenology and how I will be using the phrase “turns inward.” Then, I will introduce key concepts from existing scholarship on the phenomenology of sacred spaces and how those concepts can be applied to Turrell. Finally, I will walk through how Meeting engages the senses of sight, touch, and sound to create self-reflexive phenomenological experiences that are analogous to those produced by Quaker meeting houses.
Meeting and Quakerism
Meeting, a permanent installation at the MoMA PS1, is one of 89 similar works by Turrell called skyspaces (fig. 1). It was the second skyspace Turrell ever constructed, and the first skyspace to be constructed in America.5 Meeting, like all skyspaces, is characterized by an
aperture in the ceiling (in this case, rectangular) that is open to the sky with no separation or barrier in between the outside world and the installation. The plain white room is lined with a continuous wooden bench, slanted to allow comfortable viewing as one looks up at the sky. Since its completion in 1986, the piece has seen a number of cosmetic changes including a smaller aperture, updated wooden benches, and the addition of a colored LED light program timed to begin at sunset (fig. 2). However, the near ascetic minimalism of its original, daylight state is most relevant for the present argument.
Turrell’s Quakerism is strongly implicated by the work’s title, Meeting, which refers to both Quaker places of worship and worship services. The formal simplicity of the space, with its white walls and inward facing wooden benches, echoes the formal qualities of Quaker meeting houses which are intentionally plain, simple, and non-hierarchical. In fact, Turrell went on to construct two skyspaces inside actual Quaker meeting houses: the Live Oak Friends Meeting in Houston, TX (fig. 3) and the Chestnut Hill Friends Meeting in Philadelphia, PA (fig. 4), which each feature a rectangular skyspace above the center of the congregation. At this juncture, it will be instructive to describe a Quaker meeting and consider how this type of worship service might inform our understanding of Turrell’s Meeting.
In a typical North American Quaker meeting, there is no priest or pastor and therefore no hierarchy of space.6 All members of the congregation, called Friends, sit on plain wooden benches facing each other. As the service begins, Friends sit in contemplative silence until they feel compelled to speak. They then stand, share their insights with the congregation, and when finished return to silence. Sometimes several Friends will speak over the course of a meeting and sometimes none will speak at all. This continues for approximately an hour until two Friends shake hands to conclude the meeting. What exactly one is moved by in these services is
understood to be different things by different people, but is commonly referred to as the capital-L Light. For some, the Light is the presence of God in every person, for others the Light is simply one’s conscience.7 This wide variation in interpretations of the Light is possible because there is no formal doctrine in Quakerism in the way that there is in Roman Catholicism, for example There are, however, common “testimonies,” or unifying values, which themselves have vast and varied interpretations among Quakers. These include peace, integrity, equality, community, simplicity, and stewardship, or care for the environment.8 I will be returning to the concept of the Light and its varied interpretations shortly. Having established a brief but functional understanding of Quakerism, I now turn to a second key concept which connects Meeting to the meeting house: phenomenology.
“Turns Inward:” Phenomenology and Installation Art
To paraphrase the Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy, phenomenology is the study of conscious experience, or consciousness, rooted in a first person point of view 9 To further paraphrase the Encyclopedia, phenomenology is the study of “phenomena,” or, the appearances of things and the way we experience them.10
Installation art as we understand it today has its roots in American minimalist sculpture which started to bring the viewer-art relationship to the fore, but did so unselfconsciously With the English translation of French philosopher Merleau-Ponty’s Phenomenology of Perception in 1962, in which Merleau-Ponty argues that conscious experience is born out of a reciprocal relationship between individuals and the world as they experience it, American Minimalists, and particularly those working in sculpture, were forced to contend with the idea that the act of viewing art is a multisensory, reciprocal experience. This new awareness of Merleau-Ponty’s conception of phenomenology prompted minimalists to conceive of an art that foregrounded the
perceptual experience of viewing art, giving birth to the installation art movement which produced Turrell.11
In addition to installation, Turrell’s work is often associated with the Light and Space movement, sometimes called Westcoast Minimalism, which flourished in California in the 1960s and 1970s. All Light and Space artists, including fellow light artists Robert Irwin and Mary Corse, were interested in perception to some degree, but Turrell stands out as the sole figure of the movement working exclusively in installation.
Turrell’s work explicitly engages with the senses in order to make human modes of perception the subject of his work. In doing so, Turrell engineers a kind of turning in on oneself; viewers are made to experience themselves having a particular experience. In this way, Turrell’s work distills the concept of phenomenology into an observable, visceral experience. For the duration of this paper, I will use the phrase, “turns inward” to refer to self-reflexive phenomenological experiences produced by specific spaces Of course, such phenomenological experiences can be found outside of Turrell’s work, and one of the most informative parallels for the present argument can be found between the phenomenology of Turrell’s installations and the phenomenology of sacred spaces.
Hagia Sophia and the Meeting House
Quakerism’s founder, George Fox, took issue with the phrase “sacred spaces” because it located the divine in a an external place as opposed to within individuals, in line with the Quaker belief of God in every person.12 Instead, Fox preferred the term “places of worship.” I define “places of worship” as places dedicated to the ritual devotions of specific religions, while I use the phrase “sacred spaces” to encompass a broader range of locales which are not necessarily intended for specific ritual devotions, but maintain a distinctly religious purpose or significance.
All places of worship are sacred spaces, but not every sacred space is necessarily a place of worship.
Places of worship and installation art both assume an embodied viewer and engage the senses in order to produce a particular effect on that embodied viewer Moreover, both places of worship and installation art are marked as separate from the outside world by their respective functions as “sacred space” and “art,” and upon entrance reward the viewer with a sense of arrival. For example, one enters Meeting through an unassuming door that used to lead to a classroom when the MoMA PS1 was still in use as a school building. The scene inside is unexpected, jarring even, and immediately marks the space as outside-of-the-ordinary, much like the experience of entering a church, temple, or mosque off the street. I do not suggest that Meeting, or any Turrell installation, is itself a sacred space While the function of Meeting as a work of art is fundamentally different from the function of a chapel as a place for prayer, I do suggest that they are related by the kinds of phenomenological experiences they have the potential to produce.
Studies on the phenomenological effects of sacred spaces have been conducted on two seemingly opposed case studies, the grand and sensorial Hagia Sophia and the plain and simple Quaker meeting house. While Turrell’s Meeting is not a sacred space in and of itself, their conclusions are applicable to Meeting as the piece nominally and formally references a place of worship, the meeting house.
Byzantine scholar Bissera Pentcheva writes extensively on the phenomenological effects of the Hagia Sophia (fig. 5) in her book, Hagia Sophia: Sound, Space, and Spirit in Byzantium.
The first key concept from Pentcheva relevant to my analysis of Turrell is the idea that intangible things like light and sound can have a physical presence. For example, Pentcheva is interested in
the acoustics of the Hagia Sophia, and how, when human voices fill the space with chant as they once did, they produce the effect of a physical, reverberating wall of sound which encompasses bodies within the space.13 The second point I borrow from Pentcheva is that those physical presences produced by intangible things like light and sound are only activated by the worship service, and hence, the presence of bodies within the space 14 Without chanting voices, there is no opportunity for sound to be given a physical presence Pentcheva relies on the embodied viewer to activate the phenomenological possibilities afforded by the space’s existing architecture and acoustics. The reciprocal experience of viewer and art or viewer and space in the Hagia Sophia heightens its spiritual resonance.
Presbyterian minister and scholar Harold W. Turner examines the phenomenology of the Quaker meeting house in his book, From Temple to Meeting House: The Phenomenology and Theology of Places of Worship. The key insight I borrow from Turner in my analysis of Turrell is that the prescribed simplicity of the meeting house is intended to focus attention inward toward Friends inside the space and their internal worlds as they await inspiration as opposed to outward toward lavish decorative elements or images. In such plain and simple spaces, Friends are given no distraction from the capital-L Light inside of themselves. Indeed, Quaker scholar Roger Homan concurs with Pentcheva in the Oxford Handbook of Quaker Studies when he writes that “meeting houses become sanctified by their use.”15 The presence of bodies participating in a meeting both allows for and completes the self-reflexive, phenomenological experience intended by the formal simplicity of the meeting house. The centrality of the first person, embodied experience to Quakerism was laid out by its founder, George Fox, when he wrote of those who insisted on referring to churches as sacred spaces, “They should have looked for…their bodies to be made temples of God.”16 In short, the formal simplicity of the Quaker
meeting house provides the prime environment in which to experience a self-reflexive “turn inward,” through which one may encounter the Light.
The Light Inside
Having discussed the necessity of first-person embodied experience to installation art and Quakerism, the phenomenology of sacred spaces, and the potential for these spaces to promote self-reflexivity, I will now turn to the phenomenology of Turrell’s Meeting in relation to other examples from his body of work. Like the meeting house, Turrell’s installations provide a prime environment in which to experience “turns inward.” These “turns inward” manifest in the experiences of seeing oneself see, sensing oneself feel, and hearing oneself think.
First, I will begin with the phenomenological effect of seeing oneself see. Sight is the most obvious sense engaged by Turrell, and as a result is the most commonly written about of these three senses in relation to his work. However, the majority of this scholarship is centered around his sensory deprivation works, such as ganzfelds and dark spaces. Ganzfelds are rooms that are lit in such a way that it becomes unclear where the space begins or ends. Perfectly Clear (1991), located at MASS MoCA, presents one of the more pronounced examples of a ganzfeld. The piece sees a room flooded in homogenous colored light with little to no gradation. Other viewers in the piece become the only visual markers of depth (fig. 6) Dark spaces, such as Pleiades (1983) located at the Mattress Factory museum in Pittsburgh, PA, instruct the viewer to sit in a pitch black room for 15 to 20 minutes until their eyes adjust to reveal faint colored light, in this case, a circular spray of red (fig. 7). Such works are intended to expose the process of seeing itself. Philosopher and art historian Georges Didi-Huberman once posed the counter argument that it is impossible to see oneself see.17 Yet the scope of his argument is limited to Turrell’s sensory deprivation works. If we turn to other examples in Turrell’s body of work, like
Meeting, we see that that Turrell has framed the sky, something that is actually indeterminate as opposed to evenly lit ganzfelds or dark rooms that only appear to be indeterminate so as to make the sky appear flat and finite. In this way, Meeting exposes the inventive role the human eye plays in conceptualizing space, the mind toggling between the flat appearance of the sky and the knowledge of its infinite depth, sometimes made obvious by a passing bird or plane. In effect, seeing oneself see.
Next I will address the tactile elements of Meeting and how it might be possible to sense oneself feel. Meeting possess both tactile and pseudo-tactile elements. To understand what constitutes a “pseudo-tactile” element, consider Turrell’s Danaë (1983) also located at the Mattress Factory museum (fig. 8). One enters the piece through a darkened hall which opens into a long narrow room. There appears on the far wall a glowing blue rectangle, not unlike a digital projector as it warms up. As one nears closer to the rectangle, it becomes apparent that it is possible to reach a hand straight through what appears to be a flat plane and into the hazy ultraviolet light. Danaë is in fact a 10ft deep cavity built into the wall lit to appear two dimensional. Even with this knowledge one hesitates to reach into the light again. The visceral anticipation of touching something solid or touching anything at all remains.
In Danaë and similar works by Turrell, light takes on a physical presence. I argue that Meeting, like all skyspaces, is simply a version of Danaë transposed on to the ceiling, the light of the sky maintaining this physicality. Just as Pentcheva suggests of the physicality of sound in the Hagia Sophia, such sensations are only possible experienced through the body. This puts the viewer in a dual role of creation and reception. In the Hagia Sophia, human voices create the wall of sound that encapsulates other bodies in the space. In Meeting and Danaë, viewer’s bodies both create and destroy the expectation of flatness; in Meeting, by knowledge of the sky’s true
depth and in Danaë, by reaching through the “wall.” This process of creation and destruction happens entirely within the body and reoccurs as many times as the mind allows itself to imagine these openings as flat planes again.
There is a second sensible element present in Meeting that is absent from works like Danaë. Because Meeting’s aperture is open to the outside world, the room changes temperature according to the weather and viewers are able to feel cool breezes and warm rays of sunlight as they pass through the aperture. I do not necessarily believe that the presence of these outside sensations constitutes a “turn outward.” That is to say, they do not distract from the self-reflexive experience created by the space. In fact, they add to it. In an enclosed space like Meeting, which has a highly specific purpose (that of capital-A Art in a museum), and indeed in all spaces that are deemed “Art,” “sacred,” or “separate” in any way, the body becomes more sensible of things that otherwise go unnoticed. Feeling a breeze pass through Meeting is almost a novelty given that viewers rarely, if ever, experience that sensation in isolation from the outside world The body’s dual creative and receptive position in works like Meeting and Danaë, and the state of heightened sensitivity to outside sensations present in Meeting each contribute to the effect of sensing oneself feel.
Finally, I turn to sound and the experience of hearing oneself think. Like sacred spaces, Turrell’s works often engender silence. In a piece like Meeting which is open to the air, complete silence is impossible given the ambient noises of the outside world Like breezes and rays of sun, the separateness of the space makes one hyper-sensitive to the presence of outside sounds. The fact that the sounds themselves are detached from any visible sources reinforces that state of hyper-sensitivity. For example, the distant rumbling of the subway is “framed” for our consideration by isolation from its source, just like the sky is framed by the aperture.
However, my primary point of interest is the absence of sound silence and what viewers’ minds do to fill it. Although complete silence is impossible inside Meeting, it can be approximated. On a visit to the piece the room fell so silent that I could hear my pen writing on paper. Turrell has stated that he intends his work to prompt “wordless thought.”18 However, the reality of being inside a Turrell installation often results in hyper-awareness of one’s internal dialogue. Clark Lunberry writes in his article, “Soliloquies of Silence: James Turrell’s Theatre of Installation,” the feeling of obligation to be silent in these spaces often turns into a struggle to quiet one’s mind.19 Lunberry posits that perhaps this swelling of internal dialogue attempting to make sense of the experience one is currently having, becoming distracted from the experience, and then attempting to refocus the mind on that experience, is not something to be silenced as much as it is the point. He writes, “what is revealed is the rich and indeterminate manner in which our consciousness is, not corrupted or violated by language, but instead seen as inevitably entangled in language, or even perhaps constituted by it.”20 If it is true that language is the means by which we experience consciousness, Turrell’s conception of “wordless thought” is impossible. Whether intentionally or not, the self-reflexivity afforded by silence has carried over into the lived, phenomenological experience of Meeting and much of his body of work.
The silence of a Quaker meeting, much like the silence of a Turrell work, is never truly silent. Described as “expectant silence,” the silence of a Quaker meeting is not intended to be silence for its own sake. Friends undergo the same process Lunberry describes of attempting to quiet the mind, failing, and refocusing the mind in the process of waiting to receive divine inspiration during a meeting.21 Quaker scholar David L. Johns notes that it is an entirely different skill of discernment to know when to break that silence and share an insight with the congregation.22 Indeed, the characterization of “expectant silence” underscores that the entire
point of silence in a Quaker worship service is to be given the opportunity to actively listen to one’s own thoughts the capital-L Light inside.
Conclusion
The example of Turrell offers a framework for exploring how the influence of an artist’s long-held beliefs, whether explicitly religious, spiritual, or simply ideological, might inform the form and not simply the content of that artist’s body of work. Turrell’s understanding of how space works on the body in order to direct the mind, made evident in the phenomenological experience of his work, suggests the influence of Quaker spirituality even when it is not as directly implied as it is in works like Meeting. At the very least, it suggests a distinctly Quaker understanding of embodied experience, namely, that the divine exists within the internal worlds of individuals, which Turrell is deeply concerned with in both a scientific and subjective sense.
In conclusion, the “turns inward” prompted by Turrell’s work parallel the “turns inward” prompted by meeting houses for the purpose of encountering the Light inside. When we “turn inward” via phenomenological experience we greet the “Light,” or our consciousness, or our conscience, or simply ourselves in a certain moment in time, all of which are interchangeable and consistent with a Quaker theological framework.23 Meeting, while by no means a sacred space in and of itself, successfully approximates the phenomenological experience of being inside a Quaker meeting house in which we are forced to confront our innermost selves via sight, sensation, and silence.
Notes
1 Laura Regensdorf, “This James Turrell Installation at MoMA PS1 Is the Best Meditation Chapel in New York,” Vogue, accessed December 11, 2019, https://www.vogue.com/article/james-turrell-meeting-skyspace-installation-meditation-chapelmindfulness-escape.
2 For an example see: Richard Whittaker, “Greeting the Light: An Interview with James Turrell,” Works & Conversations, 1999, http://www.conversations.org/story.php?sid=32.
3 Thomas Crow, No Idols: The Missing Theology of Art (Sydney: Power Publications, 2017), 5-14.
4 Claire Voon, “Did Drakes New Music Video Get Its Bling From James Turrell’s Light Installations?,” Hyperallergic, accessed January 14th, 2019, https://hyperallergic.com/246789/did-drakes-new-video-get-its-bling-from-james-turrells-light-installations/
5 Turrell’s first skyspace, Skyspace I (1974), was commissioned by Count Giuseppe Panza di Biumo for his private collection in Varese, Italy, the Villa e Collezione Panza, now operated by Il Fono Abiente Italiano.
6 Pastor-led worship services are common among Quakers called “Programmed Friends,” particularly in South America and Africa. See: “FAQs,” Friends General Conference, accessed December 3, 2019, https://www.fgcquaker.org/discover/faqs-aboutquakers.
7 Stephan W Angell, “God, Christ, and the Light,” in The Oxford Handbook of Quaker Studies (Oxford University Press, 2013), DOI: 10.1093/oxfordhb/9780199608676.013.0341.
8 “FAQs,” Friends General Conference, accessed December 3, 2019, https://www.fgcquaker.org/discover/faqs-about-quakers.
9 David Woodruff Smith, “Phenomenology,” in The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy, ed. Edward N. Zalta, Summer 2018 (Metaphysics Research Lab, Stanford University, 2018), https://plato.stanford.edu/archives/sum2018/entries/phenomenology/.
10 Smith, “Phenomenology. ”
11 Claire Bishop, Installation Art: A Critical History (New York: Routledge, 2005), 50
12 David L. Johns, “Worship and Sacraments,” in The Oxford Handbook of Quaker Studies, (Oxford University Press, 2013), DOI: 10.1093/oxfordhb/9780199608676.013.0341.
13 Bissera V. Pentcheva, Hagia Sophia: Sound, Space and Spirit in Byzantium (University Park, PA: The Pennsylvania State University Press, 2017), 11-14
14 Pentcheva, Hagia Sophia, 9-11
15 Rodger Homan, “Quakers and Visual Culture,” in The Oxford Handbook of Quaker Studies (Oxford University Press, 2013), DOI: 10.1093/oxfordhb/9780199608676.013.0341
16 Harold W. Turner, From Temple to Meeting House: The Phenomenology and Theology of Places of Worship (The Hague: Mouton Publishers, 1979), 228-229.
17 Bishop, Installation Art: A Critical History, 85
18 Julie Brown ed., Occluded Front: James Turrell (Los Angeles: Lapis, 1985), 43
19 Clark Lunberry, “Soliloquies of Silence: James Turrell’s Theatre of Installation,” Mosaic : A Journal for the Interdisciplinary Study of Literature; Winnipeg 42, no. 1 (March 2009): 33–50.
20 Lunberry.
21 Johns, “Worship and Sacraments.”
22 Johns.
23 Angell, “God, Christ, and the Light.”
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