I saw Yayoi Kusama's exhibit at Syndey on the weekend (while on honeymoon with my lovely wife). I haven't been so moved in an art gallery before.
The most striking piece was an ordinary living room scene you walk into. It was dimly lit and all surfaces where a dull grey. Upon each surface where many bright, primary-coloured dots and the room was flooded in blacklight. Dots everywhere really. The living room could only be recognised as such using depth perception. I felt like I was trapped in a magic-eye picture.
There was a hall with mirrored semi-spheres hanging on the walls. A floor groping with tenticles, black and white repetitive doodlings, themselves repeated to fill the room. There was a mirrored room where you saw yourself repeated ad nauseum.
Her theme was repetition and Yayoi was asking me why I'm unique. She didn't ask me in any casual sense though, she first challenged my understanding of identity.
If she were at the exhibit at the time, I would have kissed her.