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we are all dots

we are all dots
We are all dots - dot one

In San Francisco this week, visiting with my son. We spent an afternoon at SF MoMA wandering through their embarrassingly rich collection of works. It was as extravagant as an Indian wedding and much too much was left on the plate, though we did get the chance to take in the Yayoi Kusama ā€“ Infinite Love installation...

Dots are symbols of the world, the cosmos. The Earth is a dot, the moon, sun, the stars are all made up of dots. You and me, we are dots.
ā€” Yayoi Kusama
An installation shot (my son is the dot with the stripes)

The work is intriguing and lovely, invites wallowing and takes time to soak up. The experience was less so with its timed entries, timed exposure, and sheep-like ushering. I suppose it's to be expected - what else to do with a bunch of dots except move them along?

We are all dots - dot two

We are all dots, except when we are not and we find ourselves in a spot.
Dots in a flurry,
Hurry scurry a room's mirrored cloak,
A stripe's cosmic journey.