Time, Time, Time: The Clock


I’m on a mission to enjoy my city more – – to find time to indulge in fragments of its bounty and beauty and whimsy and whatever else.  This morning before Jasper’s futsal and Livia’s tennis, before their piano and homework and the dismantling of the Christmas tree, we rose early and snuck off to MOMA to see an hour or so of Christian Marclay’s The Clock.  We arrived just before ten and left at a quarter after eleven – – all four of us riveted by the urgency of time, trying to place the actor, recognize the clip … conscious, conscious.  It’s gimmicky yes, at first, until the larger desperation of us collectively takes over.  I also kept appreciating how the piece is an ode to structure – – how a solid, compelling structure can allow you to accomplish just about anything.  Sort of like the freedom the poet finds in form.  Jasper, 8, Livia, 12, want to return in the middle of the night.  So do I.  We may attempt this Friday at the next round the clock viewing.

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