My experience working on An Invitation to Awe
by Sophie Maris ’26
I started studying awe in Professor Smith Abbott’s Awe seminar last fall. As I made my way through the semester and continued my work this summer, the way I viewed my everyday experiences started to shift. I began to notice awe in fall leaves, my little siblings, in the beauty of my friendships – I also discovered the versatility of the word “awe” and the importance of existing within the emotion, even when it’s negative. In this essay, I am going to walk through why I believe studying awe is a meaningful endeavor, and my experience working on An Invitation to Awe.
Dr. Dacher Keltner’s definition of the word awe, which we used as a foundation for our discussions and research, is “being in the presence of something vast and mysterious that transcends your current understanding of the world.” Throughout my studies I found myself recognizing things that were transcending my current understanding of the world – and both the positive and negative added new shades to my sense of self and place.
Our seminar was collaborative and conversation-driven, and based on what I have heard my peers say, they’ve had similar experiences and take-aways. I think that the value I gained from the class was further deepened by the conversational nature of it, and my classmates’ contributions were indispensable. We got to have discussions with individuals from different walks of life, ranging from an elementary school principal to an end of life doula. My class specifically got to contribute directly to the exhibition by cultivating the studio, “Acts of Humanity,” which we decided to title as such. We were split into curatorial groups and each pitched contributions that we would like to see in the show, and worked as a class to develop the tone of the studio. Groups collected objects from beyond the museum’s collection, such as a section from the AIDS memorial quilt and a watercolor illustration from The Lost Words Project. My group selected a small engraving depicting the story of The Good Samaritan from 1554.
I have spent a few hundred hours thinking about awe. This summer, while I was editing podcasts, typing labels, and watching objects arrive at the museum, I kept returning to Keltner’s definition. I, like others, have the desperate urge to try to solve or fix or interpret something that confuses me. I go to the Knoll to watch a meteor shower and gaze at a limitless amount of stars and questions bubble up about what is out there beyond our atmosphere. I think about how microscopic we are to the vastness that surrounds us and ask my friend next to me if she thinks we are alone in the universe. It isn’t wrong to be curious, it is in our nature to understand. But, through the study of awe I have been inspired to learn to sit with uncertainty, and that there is beauty in not knowing. Part of what makes stargazing so wondrous is that there is infinite unknown.
In the past five years, my generation has experienced countless “once in a lifetime” events. Covid has never truly ended, our country and home towns have suffered from dozens of school shootings, and Middlebury had three students pass away last year. While I already recognized when I was feeling powerful or sometimes world-shattering emotions, or when I felt hopeless about the world and the future of humanity, I didn’t know how to name exactly what I was feeling.
The word I was looking for was awe.
Before taking time to study it, I thought of awe as something that is only experienced when looking up at the night sky or across the Grand Canyon – that it was a word reserved for things that are “awesome” or beautifully “awe-inspiring” and not “awful.” In class – through readings and discussions – I realized that giving a name to these troubling feelings helps me to get a firmer grip on the intensity of my emotions. Giving name to something is also to provide a starting point for further exploration and curiosity. I have learned that while I can’t immediately come up with or find a solution for something, I can gain clarity from the knowledge that I am experiencing something that transcends my existing understanding of the world or myself. “Why?” or “How?” are questions that can be examined later, but in the moment, something shifts within me and that is important. As a college student, this type of mindfulness is a crucial reminder. I interpret my understanding of Keltner’s definition as an island of respite in an overwhelming ocean.
Experiencing awe can be beautiful and also devastating. It can spark a lifelong drive to explore and to understand. It can contain both life and death, kindness and violence. My study of awe has led me to internalize that it is okay to not know what to do in an exact moment – that acknowledging that I am experiencing something that is transcending my understanding of the world, is doing something in itself. Through the study of awe, we can learn to process what overwhelms us, and take action from there. I believe that experiencing awe is a key part of what makes us human.
Since the show opening, I have been amazed by the reception of the exhibit. One of my favorite moments during the opening night was watching a little girl sitting in her mother’s lap, spinning around on the chair at the VR station with the headset on, giggling and pointing to things that she saw through the screen. People have excitedly shared with me how they have been enraptured by Rose-Lynn Fisher’s photomicrographs of tears and Dario Robleto’s film, Ancient Beacons Long for Notice. I keep returning to the museum to stand in front of Susan Crile’s Gates of Hell and to examine the delicate brushwork of Albert Bierstadt’s In the Mountains. The format of the seven studios offers starting points for visitors with categories to consider (such as Mystical Awe, Awe of the Tiny and Invisible, and Vastness and Accomodation) as they wander around the gallery. I suggest coming to the show with an open mind and heart and ready to find things that surprise and delight you, as well as objects that open conversation or internal dialogue about awe – and thus what it means to experience the world.
I’m grateful to have been able to spend so much time thinking about awe and working to help bring this exhibit together. I hope you walk through An Invitation to Awe and take away whatever it is you feel that you need to. This show is a beautiful testimony to the value of studying and experiencing awe.
This essay was adapted from the author’s remarks at the opening reception for An Invitation to Awe on September 13th, 2024, with elaborations about the show added.
