Recently, I’ve been trying to practice mindfulness: a focus on the present moment, the external and the internal, through observation sans judgement. I don’t have to sit in lotus pose or close my eyes and chant om. I can binge-watch tiny home renovation videos mindfully; drink a cup of Earl Grey tea mindfully; and scrub my shower, walk to the bus, or play Wordle mindfully. It’s about paying attention. It makes me feel grounded, but it’s not static. It’s an active experience. It celebrates the dynamism of the moment.
Mindfulness harmonizes place and time—which Alex Israel honors through his art exhibition, Where is My Mind?, at Pace Prints Gallery in Chelsea. In a new iteration of his Self Portrait series, the artist presents 10 archival pigment prints, each one in a custom-made, profile-shaped frame. They locate his mind in an airplane, peering through a window over the speckled lights of a nighttime city; on bodies of water, one in a “misty” blue, the other under a “gold” sunset; in front of a vintage car; at the Hollywood Bowl; and on Doheny Drive. Through small, precise strokes, Israel blends stillness and motion—the oxymoron of mindfulness. He focuses on the where but does not neglect the when.
The exhibition does not seek to answer its titular question. While viewing the artwork, I didn’t know the location of the cow’s skull in Will Rogers nor that of the yellow-headed birds in Pelicans. I didn’t know if Misty Morning and Liquid Gold depict lakes or oceans. But what I didn’t know didn’t bother me—isn’t that the point of mindfulness? To accept what I can observe and avoid dwelling on what I cannot? When Israel asks, “Where is my mind?”, he not only urges me to wonder about his mind, but also about mine. When I viewed Vintage Car, my eyes were not drawn to the green car in the foreground, but to the leafy tree in the background. Under gentle sunlight, the tree’s prominence eclipses that of the car. The fantastical, cartoony birds and music staves in Jukebox placed my mind in song, not in place. Was I present? If so, where? Israel’s exhibition celebrates, or perhaps exposes, a mind that wanders.
If a mind wanders, if it roams aimlessly, can it focus on the present moment? I don’t know. Israel may have at once enriched and destroyed my practice of mindfulness, and for that I am grateful.
May 10, 2026