He captured all of this in a poem that examines the moments while they viewed the work.
Rate of Change
Filling the cavernous museum foyer,
a large, pale cocoon
turns slightly in suspension.
Within their elevated womb, shopping carts struggle
for space to share their emptiness,
twisted silhouettes against white flesh.
My adolescent nephew, Julian, wants to watch the creature breathe,
a long inhale that gradually increases its size
& holds his attention captive.
He stands silent & apart, changing
with an undefined restlessness, accompanied
by the sound of speeding rail wheels & sloshing water.
In this moment, Julian is again four years old, fascinated
with Thomas the Tank Engine
& hitting the strings of a small guitar.
His eyes move from the massive body to me.
I know he is no longer four.
I know how much time has elapsed.
I know he is accelerating now
& wondering why his uncle is moving so much slower