Untitled Water Composition (recreated in 2018) 1970

Editor: Senga Nengudi’s *Untitled Water Composition*, originally from 1970 and recreated in 2018, is this fascinating spread of color, like an arrangement of oversized, semi-transparent gummy worms. It's kind of playful, actually, yet incredibly still and staged. What do you make of this piece, and its connection to "water composition"? Curator: Water, eh? Imagine capturing something so fluid, so essentially unfixed! Perhaps that's the point—Nengudi teases our impulse to categorize, to contain. Those forms—geometric yet yielding—they feel both controlled and on the verge of, well, *something*. And color – oh, that vibrant spectrum feels like pure emotion rendered solid, or as close to solid as emotions ever get. Almost like time rendered material – each hue a specific time of day, weather, or season, bottled into a form we can actually touch… wouldn't that be magic? Does it feel whimsical, or serious to you? Editor: I can definitely see both. The colors and the, you know, squishiness of the material are definitely whimsical. But I think the intentional, almost clinical presentation gives it some weight. I like your point about the time! Are we meant to experience impermanence? Curator: Impermanence dances at the heart of existence, doesn't it? This work feels particularly poignant knowing its lifespan extends back to 1970. Site-specific installation invites viewers to reckon with their body in space as much as the forms invite viewers to reckon with the passage of time – or am I simply chasing moonbeams here, do you think? Editor: Not at all! It does get me thinking about presence, and our place in the world... Okay, I definitely have a lot more to chew on now! Thanks for helping me see this work with fresh eyes. Curator: My pleasure! Art, like water itself, reflects back at us the questions we bring to it. What else could we hope for, really?