The Long Room

JUST BEFORE I graduated from college, I had a chance to make a quiet, meditative room in the art building on campus. The Long Room is my second chance.

That first attempt was an unused classroom with a dark linoleum floor and a drop ceiling. I painted the walls black, graduating to white a few feet from the ceiling. I covered a cushioned bench with black cloth and placed it in the room's center.

It was a modestly successful effort, made much better when a good friend removed a few of the fluorescent tubes from the ceiling, significantly dimming the light.

I was pleased with the experiment, although far from satisfied with the result.

I filed the plan away in my mind, graduated college, and lived the bulk of my life, but I carried the idea with me and thought about it often.

Now I’m trying again, with the help, counsel, and encouragement of good friends.

In my mind, the order’s a tall one: to build a place of reverence for the mysteries of life and death, of friendship and love, the sublime joy and sadness of daily life, the known and the unknowable.

We shall see!

Fortunately, the First Room and the gallery can keep me happy while work on the Long Room continues.