new-york

View of “Doug Aitken,” 2013. From left: Sunset (black), 2013; Sonic Fountain, 2013; 100 YRS, 2013.

Doug Aitken

303 Gallery

View of “Doug Aitken,” 2013. From left: Sunset (black), 2013; Sonic Fountain, 2013; 100 YRS, 2013.

Imagine that you are wandering through an old warehouse. It’s near the river in an ex-industrial zone; it might have been a taxi garage once. What’s that dripping sound? Why is it so musical? A hole has been gouged in the concrete floor. It is filled with milky water and has apparently been miked; a rig of pipes and spigots in the rafters is releasing timed drops into the pool. Amplified, they reverberate as if struck on a postapocalyptic xylophone. Concentric ripples shiver on the surface of the toxic-looking puddle and throw reflections onto the black ceiling, a synesthetic extension of the echoey soundscape.

Now imagine that you are wandering through an A-list Chelsea party. There’s a bubbling fountain on a plinth; chocolatey liquid spews endlessly over two-foot-high Plexiglas letters spelling ART. Cute. Spear your strawberry and hold it in the unctuous stream; pop it in your

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