I’d already stared at spinning wheels and leering clowns in one psychedelic room at Meow Wolf’s Convergence Station in Denver, then teetered through a twisted staircase to get to another. Now I found myself crawling into a subterranean space, gazing through a peep hole at a herd of mechanized buffalo that swayed their heads every time a prairie dog popped into view.
Whoa, I needed a respite.
I found one when I slid into a cubby hole that held what looked like a bottomless pond, where blue and black lights cast rippling reflections on my ankles.
“This is where you can come and sit when you’re having a little LSD freakout,” someone seated next to me said.
I don’t do LSD, but I can tell you that two or three hours spent wandering through the creative explosion of this four-story immersive art exhibit will, as the saying goes, blow your mind.
In a good way, of course.
The place is best visited on an off day in an off season, to avoid crowds. Once there, wander without purpose. You’ll get lost – and that’s the point. Meow Wolf is all about discovering mysterious things, which lurk behind unmarked doors, through mirror-lined passages and beneath the surface of a prairie dog village.
I watched a washing machine filled with bricks spin in an area that resembled a 1970s laundromat. I sat on a couch made of books in a cozy library. I played video games in what looked like a deranged version of a kid-themed pizza joints. The cavernous space is filled with vehicles (this is a transportation station to an alternate reality, after all) like land-locked barges and trucks straight out of Mad Max.
But the best came at the end, when I discovered the Perplexiplex, where ever-changing projections of a fantastical forest swirled across the walls and streaks of light chased me as I walked across the floor.
I still don’t know how it worked. But that’s OK. At Meow Wolf, you can let your mind go, and see where it takes you.
Meow Wolf operates locations in Santa Fe, Denver, Las Vegas, and, closer to home, in Grapevine, Texas.