The Art of Lumonics by Michael Mills

THE ART OF LUMONICS

When I first visited Mel and Dorothy Tanner's Lumonics Light & Sound Theatre in Fort Lauderdale nearly 15 years ago, I was a newspaper arts reporter looking for something unusual to write about. I got what I was looking for and then some. I went back to the paper and set out to convey something of the Lumonics experience -- the art of Lumonics, after all, is first and foremost an experiential art.

I wanted to capture the sense of walking into a space where, paradoxically, everything is designed both to stimulate your senses and to calm them. I wanted to describe the subtle scent of incense hanging in the air, the taste of the hot tea served to guests, the soothing sound of water coursing through fountains, the rhythmic pulsing of lights embedded in the large industrial plastic sculptures that seemed to be everywhere. I wanted to share what it was like to sit in a huge, darkened room filled with strangers, watching and listening as shimmering lights played across a wall to the accompaniment of music.

I wanted to write about being transported.

My editor, unfortunately, was a no-nonsense newspaper type whose formula for my feature story-- just about any feature story, for that matter-- entailed throwing in a few random quotes from people reacting to the art of Lumonics. Then, in the interest of "balanced reporting," it was recommended that at least one vaguely skeptical source be cited. Just the facts. None of that touchy-feely stuff. So much for my experiential angle.

After that first visit, however, I was a convert of sorts. And much to my surprise I also became, contrary to my basic nature, gently evangelical. I took friends and family to Lumonics and watched as even the cynics among them begrudgingly acknowledged that there was something about the experience they couldn't quite explain. Those who were buttoned up with stress found that their tension had melted away. Those who were exhausted felt energized. And pretty much everyone discovered that they had lost all sense of time.

At this point the late Mel Tanner would probably nod knowingly and utter a remark as cryptic as those of a Zen master. Dorothy might interject a comment about the healing properties of light. And indeed, there's an ample body of scientific research to document how rhythmically pulsing lights can alter brain waves in positive ways. But that hardly gets to the core of our response to any art that connects with us. I'm convinced that a large part of how we respond to art remains -- and probably should remain -- a mystery.

This exhibition is something of a departure for Lumonics in that it takes the art out of the gallery/studio/theater context and into a museum environment. That's a good thing, just as it was a positive step when, several years ago, Dorothy, Marc Billard, and their behind-the-scenes colleagues began exploring the possibilities of the medium of video. As much as I relish the whole performance aspect of Lumonics, I welcome anything that expands the audience for the individual artworks in all their marvelous diversity. This museum show -- and, I hope, more museum and gallery shows to come -- affords that opportunity.

Over the years I have returned to Lumonics again and again and have written about it several more times for more sympathetic editors at a variety of publications. I have been amazed to discover that the experience is always the same and, simultaneously, never the same.

On a recent visit to the studio, shortly before Dorothy Tanner and her associates relocated to another space not far from their earlier one, I found myself unable to distinguish works I've seen countless times from others I had never seen before. I also found that all my Lumonics experiences have somehow merged in my head, so that I remember not the specifics, but the overall feel.

I'll say it again: The art of Lumonics is first and foremost an experiential art. That’s only as it should be.

Michael Mills ~ Art Writer, New Times Broward Palm Beach