Bristol, U.K.
In Dan Lie’s installation Sleeping Methodologies (on view through January 11, 2026), a thin neon light runs along the perimeter of the room at floor level, emitting a suffused glow through an otherwise dim room. This golden outline (one of three distinct kinds of light sources) creates an ambiance that readies visitors to encounter a spare configuration of material elements. Marking a shift from Lie’s bold monumental work, Sleeping Methodologies emerged out of the artist’s experience of tiredness, exhaustion, and burnout. Entirely without language, its articulation of emotional collapse invites us to find respite in an aesthetic setting and to consider what would happen if we stopped, if only for a while.
Dotted throughout the space are a dozen or so “stations” of rest and recuperation. Each station consists of a hay- and lavender-filled cotton mattress set directly on the floor. A standing stone, linked to Lie’s research visit to Stonehenge, is set on top of each mattress, with a kitchen chair and small reading lamp (the second kind of light in the installation) placed nearby. Visitors are welcome to sit, lie, or stand as they please. The stations all face in different directions, allowing for privacy or at least a variety of experiences. Lying down on one of the mattresses, with its standing stone as a companion, visitors can breathe in the soothing herbal scents and embrace a different perspective on the ordinary, freed from the scaffolding of order embodied in the rigidly linear pipe work that runs overhead. With this freedom comes a release from everyday demands, quotidian tasks, and expectations, making space for memories and reflection. The overall atmosphere encourages a mindful, present attention and interaction: children gently hug the small standing stones, while small groups gather within individual stations and converse quietly. There is a degree of respect and reverence here akin to a secular spirituality.
Garlands of popcorn, hand-threaded by groups of volunteers, hang throughout the space and wind around standing stones, a gesture to the communities that thrive in and around Spike Island. Their pinkish hue and childhood associations are disarming, conjuring memories of moments when life was less busy, less demanding, more supportive of rest and dreaming. The sense of escape and playful imagining is reinforced by cast shadows on the walls and strangely hung chairs, which in the low light induce a hypnagogic state that slips between sleeping and waking, when the conscious and the unconscious flip-flop endlessly.
A temporary wall across the gallery allows a third source of light to filter into the space. Rather than extending this barrier to meet the adjoining wall, Lie purposely maintained a gap that, like a child’s bedroom door left ajar, lets in light and instills feelings of safety and security. Similarly, the hushed sounds of indistinct human conversations bring a sense of quiet companionship. Finding rest among the hay and the stones, we breathe more slowly, talk more quietly, and touch more gently. In this space of generosity, Lie provides comfort and renewal for the weary, for everyone.
