Finding Rothko

Lately inspiration escapes me. Its one of those times in which I find myself caught up in what seems to be 'real life,' but somehow feels foreign enough to warrant afternoons lost to casual wandering strolls and countless hours of useless navel-gazing. Being weirdly unable to get anything productive done—besides the pressing responsibilities of work, feeding the cat, feeding myself, and sticking to previously made appointments—is not my forté so I went in search of inspiration. Though most attempts fruitless, I found in the end, Rothko. At the Rothko Chapel naturally.
The murmurs and sounds of silence fill the space and take you in a journey of deep contemplation. It's a cosmic silence that aids and disables you to be distracted by the whispers of the other few present in the space, and the crickety sounds of the wooden benches and steps. The artist asks you to faithfully give yourself to the art, and embark into a journey into the depths of pre-religion; into contemplation and adoration of nothingness and everything all at once.
Have you ever stared at a Rothko long enough so see the shapes within? The movements and stories trapped inside the void of the painting? The rolling movements of symphonies playing from one canvas to the other, to the other, and around?
Canvases that at first glance look black, and void of any energy or content, come alive with every second of contemplation given. Sitting there, colors start appearing and stories unfold. It's the vibration of the colors Rothko has applied so violently to the canvas that begin to form sounds and movements. Reds, greens and purples become clearer and the pushing and pulling of the strokes begin their symphonic dance.
From one canvas to the next, rain or maybe smoke, travels around the room. I hear thunder too, though that might just have been the air conditioning I suppose. But at this point I'm already hypnotized. I can't quite distinguish between real and not. I'm not looking at art anymore, I am having an experience. Though what kind I cannot tell. It feels deeply spiritual and energizing, like a surge of energy has suddenly struck me.
Ultimately I think what Rothko was given by the de Menils' was an opportunity to create a shrine to Art, one which he unabashedly took. Inside a subdued brick building located within the de Menil Campus, lies the vision Dominique had over 50 years ago for this sacred space in celebration of universality. An octogonal non-denominational chapel hosting fourteen paintings by the artist whose art she thought to be beautiful and religious.
In painting nothing he painted everything. Rothko masters the ability to paint an absolute, and an universality all at the same time.
As I hear my pencil pressed upon the paper I am awoken from the deep dream state. I realize that through the aesthetic I was able to find the divine. Through the lack of representation I found the reflexion of the spiritual that lies within me. I stare a bit longer and then stand up to leave, realizing I have found my object of devotion.
Morton Feldman's 1971 composition Rothko Chapel.
[Related: The Dia Minimalism]
Image via the Menil Collection