Untitled (White Library) by Wilfredo Prieto, consisting of thousands of blank books.
I took few photos in MONA, my attention so regularly stolen by the art and experience. Down the glass lift to the lowest level, you slowly prospect your way back to the surface. The works are frequently ominous and visceral, but in a way that leaves you joyous, having just been transported to some other place that was, minutes ago, unknown. A black light to illuminate the shadows.
Modern art is juxtaposed with the ancient, something made last year placed literally next to, for example, an Egyptian mummy case in excess of 2000 years old. A dark labyrinth of zeros and ones with air vibrating foreboding frequencies houses silver artefacts and a surprise at its centre. Further along, the stench of Cloaca Professional announces the industrial jellyfish contraption, tubes and glass and steel suspended from the ceiling, digesting food into waste.
Is that art? A machine that eats food, digests it and defecates? I don't know, but I'm glad to have seen it.