In 2018 and 2019, the Bulletin of Atomic Scientists announced that the Doomsday Clock had reached “2 minutes to midnight.” For 70 years, the Clock has been a symbol for how close we are to a man-made disaster, where midnight is a point of no return. As our planet suffers around us, quietly and with frightening potential, are we able to make sacrifices for a future we can’t know or see? As we benefit from our privileges today, are we prepared to give up what is necessary to enable liberation for all tomorrow?
In reflecting on these questions, I read about the science of memory and how we think about time. I also spent months re-treading my own memory footprints, as well as discovering dozens of memories of my husband’s that I had never heard. The result was Glass Hours, an installation and card game exploring whether our connection, even love, of the future can grow stronger if we creatively engage with both our past and future in the same space.
Creators first picked a painted coin and were asked to share a memory that was evoked or invoked by the colors. For some, the spark was immediate, and experiences from many decades ago, or that hadn’t been recalled for decades, bubbled forth. One individual recalled a 60-year-old memory of a friend from childhood, someone who they hadn’t thought about or remembered for decades. Another remembered the color of the wall in the den of her old childhood home on a particular day. Her sister, who was by her side, then shared with us an old memory of skinny-dipping for the only time in her life. Neither sister had ever heard these stories before. Other creators noticed new details or colors in familiar memories, bonding with the paintings that evoked them.
Then, creators turned their coin over to a different painting and blended the color with a word. For example, some shared electric blue memories of heritage; or red memories of bias. Slightly different variations of the game were also made to help children engage equally. Many stories emerged, in private conversations and small groups. Some, however found it easier to engage with the words, rather than colors, making me realize that Glass Hours needs a 2.0.
Next, creators tossed their past memories into an unknown future and discovered that each future shape of the game board represented a different experience, from apocalypse, to extreme pollution, to a world of glass or colored orange. They were then asked to describe a future memory in that world and find a painting that looked like it, reversing the flow between color and memory.
I was invited by the amazing Jaime Faye-Bean to install Glass Hours at Bliss Plaza in Sunnyside, Queens, in 2019, thanks to support from Sunnyside Shines and the Queens Council on the Arts with public funds from the New York City Department of Cultural Affairs in partnership with the City Council. Several other artists joined us, to co-imagine New York’s outdoor public spaces as hubs for creative democracy. The event, 2 Minutes to Midnight, became a free, interactive outdoor co-creation lab under the 7 train. Click here to learn more about the lab and other artists.
Anjali Deshmukh, Artist.
Glass Hours. Mixed Media, Pervasive Installation. 2019.
In Two Minutes to Midnight, Bliss Plaza, Queens.
With facilitation by Ernest Verrett, support by Jaime Faye-Bean, and funding from Sunnyside Shines and Queens Council on the Arts w/ public funds from the New York City Department of Cultural Affairs in partnership w/ City Council. Photos by Neha Gautam.
What does it mean for time to run out— for the things we want to do, feel, and be, and for the world we want to pass on? As our planet suffers around us, quietly and with frightening potential, Glass Hours asks: are we able to make sacrifices for a future we can’t know or see? As we benefit from our privileges today, are we prepared to give up what is necessary to enable liberation for all tomorrow?
Glass Hours was an installation and card game about how we process time, memory, and the future. Through the game, participants sparked old memories alongside fictional memories in radical future worlds and explored whether their connection, even love, of the future can grow stronger if we creatively engaged with our past and future in the same space.