Cosmic Abundance

Photos by Nathan Gunter

A few years ago, the big craze among a bunch of my social media friends was to experience sensory deprivation. They’d pull up in a nondescript shopping center—probably to a storefront that at various times housed a tanning place, a liquor store, a witchy crystal shop, and a Subway—pay their money, then be escorted to a person-sized plastic box that looked like the coffin you might bury a Robin Reliant in. As I understand it, this not-a-coffin would be filled with enough warm water that a human body could float in it, and once the lid was closed, everything would get very dark and silent: sensory deprivation. You’d float there, ostensibly having some kind of revelatory or spiritual experience, and upon emerging, you would finally begin your life as the person you were meant to be.

I never really got the appeal. Granted, I never tried it, but I was never inspired to. I figured I could run a lukewarm bath, turn my bathroom lights off, and have essentially the same experience at home for free. I thought I’d get bored, and I think the people at the sensory deprivation place would frown on me sneaking a book or some snacks into my plastic floaty coffin.

Luckily, I found my own version of the same therapy—though it’s pretty much the opposite of sensory deprivation. The beautiful artistic minds behind Factory Obscura in Oklahoma City have created a temporary exhibition that is at once engaging and relaxing; uptempo and restful; loud and still all at the same time. This summer in its downtown Oklahoma City location, Factory Obscura is presenting Cosmic Callback, an immersive art installation that will be in place through the end of July.

Karlie, Megan, and I got to experience Cosmic Callback recently, and experience is the only word for it. You’re escorted in from the lobby to a darkened room with a bright carpet, a hanging sculpture, and a whole lot of very comfortable lounge chairs on the ground. You’re handed a pair of neon yellow glasses with polarizing lenses in them, and you recline.

What follows for the next fifteen or so minutes is an ambient sculpture made of light, gauze, plastic, and music—music composed specifically for this installation. As the music plays, the lights flash, and your glasses throw rainbows and halos around every shard of light, quintupling them, spectra flashing in and out of existence. It’s like a planetarium meets a laser light show meets fine art meets one of those houses at Christmas where the lights and music are coordinated.

The ambient, largely downbeat techno piece is bright and airy, and as the experience plays out, you can’t help but smile. There are no lyrics or symbology to provide meaning—you bring the weight of whatever you’re carrying and let this gorgeous piece dance around it, pull you in, and flash-sing your cares away.

After Karlie, Megan, and I were finished, we toured the rest of Factory Obscura’s Mix-Tape installation, because Karlie had never seen it before. And let me tell you: I don’t care how old you ever get or how many times you go, it’s impossible not to be excited and charmed by Mix-Tape. I’ve been several times now and always find some new piece of fascination. And anyway, there aren’t that many places where magazine editors in their 30s and 40s can go down big slides:

Written By

Nathan Gunter

A sixth-generation Oklahoman, Weatherford native, and Westmoore High School graduate, Nathan Gunter is the magazine's editor-in-chief. When he's not editor-in-chiefing, Nate enjoys live music, running, working out, gaming, cooking, and random road trips with no particular destination in mind. He holds degrees from Wake Forest University and the University of Oklahoma. He learned how to perform poetry from Maya Angelou; how to appreciate Italian art from Terisio Pignatti; comedy writing from Doug Marlette; how to make coconut cream pie from his great-grandma; and how not to approach farm dogs from trial and error. A seminary dropout, he lives just off Route 66 in Oklahoma City.