Sounds, always with a faint underlying pulse, seem to match the images but then disappear, blending into flickering patterns of color. Walls, floor and ceiling disappear. There is an otherworldly quality, ethereal, dreamlike where self is subsumed, absorbed into the lushness of images, recognizable and exotic. Reality shuffles between invisibility and solidity. In the absence of gravity, we are suspended by air and light.
Self consciousness gives itself up to the dream.
The mesmerizing play of leaves glides gently past in a breeze our bodies create as we brush the invisible scrims. Shadows in actual space play with the projected images and cast shadows dance in air all around us. We are absorbed into the unconsciousness of childhood, the playfulness and unfocused summer day of a child floating through sun-dappled trees. Children in the gallery run past trying to find the birds, chasing their shadows, becoming part of the carnival, merge with it. To them it is a carnival.