I was compelled toward an exhibit because of the sound coming from it before I even knew where it came from. I heard an ethereal ambiance and was honestly unsure if it was in my head or not .If you’ve ever pretended you were in a movie when listening to music in a car or bus, then you know how I was feeling when I walked into the hallways which surrounding the courtyard. At first, not sure of where to go next, I stood still in front of the sculpture, listening to the air and how it rested in the hallway. I felt like I was in my own film, and a score was playing over my life, making whatever audience, if there is one above us, connect with me on a deeper level as I embarked on an adventure to find a piece of art to connect with. The more I homed in on what direction it was coming from (real life or in my brain), I discovered it was in fact coming from an exhibit to my right. In big white letters, the title of the exhibition was presented, Delights of an Undirected Mind, with dark blue walls which appeared black in darkness. There was a hallway, and I could go right or left. Many tall, almost oval like pots lined the edges of the wall. At first, I thought they were just regular pots that a sculpture artist made. The security guard said to me, “Feel free to look in any of the pots”. I was delighted to hear this. It meant that it was an interactive exhibit, which is always more exciting than just staring at something, allowing me to connect with the art on a Salvemini 2 physical level in addition to a mental level. In each pot there is what appears to be a screen, most likely an iPad, on top of a speaker that played music unique to the images appearing on the screen. I decided to walk to the right, and the first moving image I saw was a taller teapot that had liquid flowing in and out of it almost weightlessly. Each image had this liquid in it, which flowed in and out of other objects. The liquid as wells as the objects around it were drawn in blues and purples, but also had highlights of yellow and pink. When I write it down, it seems that the colors are depressing, considering that the blues and purples dominated the pieces. But when I experienced them, I found them relaxing, and sometimes joyful. The weightlessness of the liquid along with the ambience of the music lifted me up. It felt a lot like my life was being presented to me. I peered into the room on my left. I saw neon lights in the shape of scribbles hanging from the ceiling, as well as a projector on the floor, and plush a grey plush carpet that everyone wanted when they were 16. I didn’t think I could step in a first, because I was under the impression that the carpet was somehow a piece of the art. The guard assured me that I could in fact go in. The ceiling felt higher and I felt as though I was walking on clouds when I stepped in. The projections on the wall showed a clay chicken running around the room, as well as painted lines that intertwined with each other. When I walked around the room, and the projections were projected onto my body, I became one with the art, empathized with it. I felt that this time, the sound in the room was much more captivating because some sounds and tones went with certain colors in the neon lights about me. I spent a lot of time in that room and even revisited it to see if I could catch onto a pattern, where it begins and where it ends. The room was ba Salvemini 3 you create shadows in the room as well as when the animation is projected onto you. I didn’t know this when I was experiencing it, but when I read that, it did make a difference in what I thought about it. It made more sense to me what the artist was trying to make me feel. A playground was in the next room. The dim lighting a combination of tungsten bulbs and projections of the same liquid from the pots. Across the floor lay giant donuts, eggs, and egg shells. I thought after the first two pieces that this must be an interactive piece as well and began to approach the giant fried egg in the center of the room, to sit on. Other people began to enter, and before I could sit down, others were already sitting on some of the other pieces. The guard came in the room and announced to them that they were sitting on the pieces improperly. I decided to stand, and people watch. Where would they sit? Are they sitting with anyone? What is their relationship to each other? How might they react if I sit next to them? This is a room that serves as a place to reflect, and to absorb what you’ve already seen. You can sit on the pieces, you can feel the paint on them, you can watch the walls, and you can meditate to the calming ethereal ambiance. The last thing to see was a series of three stop motion animations. The reality set in when I turned the corner to a dark room with a large projection screen that everything I just enjoyed would come crashing down. The clay characters and objects made me cringe uncomfortably and forced me to come face to face with adulthood. A depiction of childlike wonder turns into the exploring of sexuality in the first six minute forty second animation titled Delights of An Undirected Mind, which also happens to be the title of the exhibit. This is a weird, essentially orgy, in a little girl’s bedroom of toys, animals, cheese, and poop and it made me throw up in my mouth a little bit. Dark Side of the Moon, also six minutes and forty seconds, still with creepy, cringeworthy clay figures, was like Alice in Wonderland gone south. For some reason, the moon Salvemini 4 has a big behind entirely disproportionate to the rest of his body. The man on the moon must’ve skipped leg day. Then, Snake with A Mouth Sewn Shut, or, This Is A Celebration felt like a true feeling, and a true story. The words written across a chalk board, stinging deep wounds from when you and your mom got in a bad fight, and you said some terrible things. The depression of bringing life into the world a heavy theme and reality as an adult. The delights of my own directed mind lulled me into a sense of happiness, relaxation, and happiness. Just like my life shows me every day, I’m an adult, and behind the curtain there is always something more disturbing that no one wants to admit is really their true self.