I have been picking around at the edges of epiphany for a long time. Wanting existentially to know. Belief has been hard to swallow and so I have moved to passionately inquire: How can I know the unknown, slip into the inbetween spaces and find a suspended experience of the other? That is what birthed White Silence. And there is more to come. Could no speaking, hand written notes, painting a response to “Jesus Blood Never Failed Me Yet”, in all white clothes produce an epiphany for someone, for anyone in a selected group of visual artists? Each time the music was a new mix, the sensual environment shifted and new artists were added and others dropped out. What happened? Who felt anything – not only sensually and emotionally but existentially, spiritually? I was busy producing and I suppose that left me out of the silent slowing down trajectory. But in the final event [WSIII] I had my hands in paint and responded – conservatively – to some new music. A movement of sorts. And others did the same. And we were wrapped in tissue and paint. The written text communication idea between us with all oral communication off limits – hardly got off the ground in III as there was some kind of momentum created. There was a knowing generated. There was no need for written notes to each other. Flow had been created and we were carried. I think it caught us all up in a kind of gentle vortex. But my quest for epiphany, so much a product of liminality, illness , silence and desire, failed to arrive for me in White Silence I, II or III and I think I know what I am wanting so maybe this too needs to be explored. Each event had a great impact in everyone. The production of these events drew out a knowing that to pursue this reclusive and disciplined centring down with a group of artists like this was meaning making for me. This was where I found some enlightenment, energy, joy. And maybe these, this is the epiphany but I am not satisfied.
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