That’s right! Well, I thought, why clouds, why not just motion? Why pretend they are moving, why not just move something? All of a sudden it hit me, why not just movement? If there was such a thing as composing music, there could be such a thing as composing motion.

Len Lye’s interest in movement was not an interest in describing movement, but in becoming it. Artwork should transmit movement into the viewer affectively, so that the movement would occur within us, dismantling our proprioceptive equilibrium.

Here, in this selection movement is physical, but it is also felt in the shifting of ideas, and in the transition between states. As one artist tacks at angles from concept to concept, another runs on himself in endless concentric circles. There is interpersonal movement, the touch of finger to face, or hip to hip. The rubbing of pencil over bronze, a frottage that animates the graveyard, lockdown stillness. Just as bodies moved through the emptied public spaces of 2020-21, we rub our feet in the dust, stuff the speaker in the shell. Tiny signals of our intimacy with the outside world. Evidence of our movement through.

Movement is in the shape between ourselves and the world. It is how we traverse that space between body and building, or how we activate the tension between strangers in public, rushing forward or retreating. Movement is not just the flex of toes, or the melting of ice, but the movement of concepts. It is a process of dynamic removal, digging to dislodge, only to keep it all moving.