Some things happen more often than all the time

Pulse Room, one hundred incandescent light bulbs controlled by the heartbeat of the public. Dimensions variable, 2006.
by Rafael Lozano-Hemmer

(the words titling this post are his, too)

Do the hearts of everyone beat in sync?

Perhaps only those who walk together, laugh together, talk together do. Maybe your heart trips up its own rhythm to match another's when your eyes lock - maybe that's why hearts flutter. If your heart beat between mine, if everyone's heart beat to a different time, would the lights never turn off? If only two people stood in this room and had an argument, fell in love, had a fight, made love, would the lights flicker on and off and on and off with different speeds? If a pregnant person stood under the lights, gave birth and died while the child lived, would the lights register a change? Do the lights only pick up the strongest heartbeats, or the loudest? Is there one light bulb for every heart, or one flock that responds the to the breathing herd?

***
Two Art teachers now have independently decided that Art is not "my thing". And I've been thinking, although I pretty much agree with them, when they tell me Art isn't my thing, a little part of my heart feels like it's crying.

It was one of the pleasantest car-rides I ever had, in Mr Lee's small, green car just a few hours ago (with Ms Kee and Zhengyou). For about half an hour, we talked about our dreams, our interesting ideas, our muses, futures and pasts. And there was something oddly comforting about the two gentle and kindly voices from the front seats sharing their ideals in a way that was neither imposing or didactic. And for that moment, it seemed like life was simple - one simply had to do what one liked. A quiet affair: one man and his heart (my universals shall be masculine! I bah feminism!) in a private little waltz in a tiny, surreal chamber. For half an hour, I felt like I too, could almost do the same. Almost.

Art really isn't my thing.

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What is?