Sometimes the most profound art installations don't just invite you to look—they invite you to inhabit, to play, to become part of the composition itself.
That's exactly what happened when I encountered Kapwani Kiwanga's "Plotting Rest" at DesertX this year.
At first glance, you might think you understand what you're seeing: midcentury modernist forms arranged in the desert, geometric shapes creating a structured contrast against the wild, untamed landscape. But step inside, and something shifts. You realize you're not just viewing art—you're completing it.
Kiwanga, a Canadian artist whose work often explores the intersection of architecture and identity, has created something deceptively simple yet endlessly complex. The installation features a series of suspended panels forming a canopy overhead, with carefully placed sculptural elements that seem to balance impossibly against gravity. Organic spheres stack like meditation stones while angular wooden forms reach skyward like abstract totems.
What struck me most was how the piece transformed depending on where you stood, how you moved, how the light hit it throughout the day. Photos don't do it justice—though they rarely do—because the real magic happened in the spaces between, in the shadows cast by the geometric canopy, in the way your presence activated the work.
This is what I call "plotting rest" in the truest sense. Not just physical rest, but visual rest, mental rest, the kind of pause that happens when you stop trying to understand and start simply experiencing. The installation creates a sanctuary in the middle of nowhere, a place where midcentury optimism meets ancient desert wisdom.
There's something profound about wearing bold, geometric patterns in a space that's all about geometric forms. The clothing becomes part of the installation, the body becomes part of the composition. You're not separate from the art—you're collaborating with it, adding your own visual language to Kiwanga's carefully orchestrated environment.
The contrast is everything: soft, curved forms against hard edges, human movement against static structures, the organized chaos of pattern against the clean lines of modernist design. It's a conversation between different eras of making, different ways of seeing space and form and beauty.
What I love about installations like this is how they remind us that art doesn't have to be precious or untouchable. Some of the most powerful work happens when the boundaries dissolve—between artist and audience, between art and life, between observation and participation.
Standing under that canopy, surrounded by those impossible balancing acts of stone and wood, I felt like I was inside one of my own paintings. The kind of dreamscape where different realities coexist, where gravity works differently, where the logical and the magical occupy the same space.
The desert teaches you things about scale, about time, about what matters and what doesn't. Kiwanga's installation amplifies those lessons, creating a framework for reflection that feels both ancient and utterly contemporary.
Sometimes the best art doesn't give you answers—it gives you better questions. Questions about how we create shelter, how we define rest, how we make meaning in vast, empty spaces. Questions about what happens when you drop geometric perfection into organic chaos and discover they've been having a conversation all along.
Stefanie Bales is an award-winning fine artist, muralist, and owner of Stefanie Bales Fine Art—San Diego's "Best Art Gallery" three years running. After earning her MFA and spending over a decade as an art professor, she now paints full-time from her downtown gallery, creating the kind of surreal dreamscapes that make people stop and wonder if they're looking at the future or remembering a dream. When she's not collaborating with brands like Societea or preparing for her upcoming TEDx talk, she's raising two sons who remind her daily that the best art happens when you're not trying to make art at all. Learn more at stefaniebales.com
