About That Time I Got To Watch Tilda Swinton Sleeping

One of the things I’ve said a couple times is that while I don’t consider ‘modern art’ art in itself, I have a special love for it. Maybe it’s the fact that can be completely random, or maybe it’s because it can take me by surprise. But for me, modern art usually helps me open my mind to new ideas.

So it was natural when I visited New York City back in 2013 to pay a visit to the Museum Of Modern Art (MoMA). Some years have passed and I have to acknowledge that from that visit, I just remember two exhibitions.

The first one was about classic video game consoles. And given my penchant for those machines and the hours I’ve spent on them, it’s no surprise that section of the gallery remains fresh in my memory.

The only other exhibition I recall, was… different, to say the least. I remember that we were on the very last halls left to see in the museum. One of them was a huge room in which the walls were light bright white with the projection of an elephant going around. That’s it. Just an elephant projected going around the room. Or at least that’s what I remember.

But that was the next to last room that I saw at the MoMA. The very last one, on the other hand, was quite bizarre. I remember it huge, white, with zero pieces or decorations. At the far end, I could make out a small crowd of people who were circling what seemed like a large horizontal glass cabinet.

As we began moving closer, I noticed that people were slowly swirling around the cabinet, making sure to peek from all possible angles. There was not that much people but enough to block any view of the glass box’ contents unless you were right on top of it.

The first thing I saw was a slim figure sleeping inside the glass box. A simple white linen covered the makeshift bed, while the figure rested with its back to me. I immediately noticed that it was a female frame, the white blonde hair cut short but pointy. My first impression was that it was a fantastic sculpture, but a bit underwhelming due to the prosaic nature of the…

Wait.

That’s when I saw her hands.

I still couldn’t see the figure’s face, but her hands were at a right angle, with her hands near her head. The moment I saw them I realized that this was not a sculpture – it was a living, breathing human being inside the glass cabinet.

“Alright, so that’s a lady with a blue shirt and navy blue pants. What is the point?”

The point is that the lady was none other than Tilda Swinton. I didn’t have to see the tiny card describing the installation at the nearby wall. I just saw part of her face and knew it was her. I was already a fan of her work since the movie The Beach, not to mention her 18 minutes of screen time in Michael Clayton that earned her an Oscar.

And there she was. I was less than one meter away from her. But she was… actually taking a nap? or was she acting like she was taking a nap? anyway, she seemed like in a deep slumber.

Why do I bring this anecdote? for a very simple reason:

Tilda came up with the idea of the installation, called “The Maybe”, and helped by her friend Cornelia Parker to bring it to life. The concept was simple: Swinton ‘sleeping’ inside a glass cabinet for 8 hours straight.

But what was so special about this? what exactly separates this from, say, a banana stuck to a wall with duct tape?

What I found truly special about this is that “The Maybe”, as in, the installation itself, has zero marketing or announcement in advance. Since its conception in 1995, it has just… popped up in museums here and there. Sometimes with more than a handful of years between appearances.

No warnings. It just pops up for a few days and then it’s gone.

So, being at the MoMA that day, and precisely that day, was the rarest opportunity to see Tilda Swinton sleeping. As un-striking it might sound, it was the ephemeral and spontaneous nature of the happening.

I mean, it was already 2013. We were pretty much engulfed by full-on social media and if you wanted to see a movie, or listen to any song, or access any sort of media, you could with just the push of a button.

I remember my 1980’s days when I waited for hours on end, finger ready on the ‘record’ button of my cassette tape player, to catch that elusive track that I wanted to keep in a mix tape. When it finally played, and my reflexes made sure that the intro was not (that much) badly chopped, it felt like a triumph of mind over randomness.

I have to say that I sometimes miss that randomness and spontaneity. Witnessing something unexpected. Living off schedule. Acting on an impulse. Existing like time is meaningless.

Rediscovering our chaotic essence, down to the subatomic particles that our flesh vessels are made of.

Maybe that’s why ‘the news’ can be so alluring. Because they’re chaotic, yes, but they’re predictably negative most of the time because bad news always draw the most attention, and since we’re in an attention economy, we pay a hefty mental sanity price for that.

But what if… that what is spontaneous and chaotic is, at the same time, absurd?

News always pretend to have a meaning. You should form an opinion about what’s happening. Maybe voice it.

But Tilda Swinton sleeping inside a glass box out of nowhere is as absurd as it gets. You can make up your own interpretation, if you want. Maybe she has her own. She voices a different one. I have one for myself. Or maybe not.

I must say that this is the way I want to live this year. And every future year, for that matter. A quest for the randomly absurd. For the gesture that surprises us positively, out of nowhere. For the experience that is as unexpected as fulfilling. For the times that we never see coming and are the hardest to forget.

For the moments that make us stop for a moment and just stare in wonder, in awe, or dumbfounded, or confused, or amused.

To become naively alive for a brief, fleeting moment.

That’s what I wish for myself, and for you, this year.

Here’s to the unforeseen twists of our journey together!

Much Love and Bliss,

Jesús.

The Body Language Guy