I'd like to return and ditch the lines just to revisit some of these pieces, like the mammoth "Infinity Net" paintings (one of which—'No. Green No. 1'—I've visited often at its permanent home, the Baltimore Museum of Art). For these, Kusama would paint without rest, allegedly, for 50 to 60 hours at a time, using her body to mechanically push a single color across a massive black canvas in miniscule arched strokes. The physical toll of this process was Kusama's impetus for using mirrors to create a similar expansiveness—an arch among others in the artist's career the Hirshhorn uses to frame the exhibition, creating a compelling account of the varied forces of illusion and infinity. Though the viewer is not literally reflected in the "Infinity Net" paintings as they are in the "Mirrors," the body's relation to the web's honeycomb field is persistent as it absorbs the surging collision of macro and micro, positive and negative space, urging a less direct but equally cogent self-awareness. And, as the eyes trace the hundreds of thousands (millions?) of globby brushstrokes, with no focal point to anchor them, the viewer inherits Kusama's own body memory from pushing the paint around the canvas. Again, we're at once radically conscious of ourselves and feel as if we're disappearing into the pattern.