The Museum of Contemporary Art in Chicago is currently displaying Witness, an exhibition that places the photographer in the role as a witness as he or she goes about experiencing life for others. The exhibit, in itself, is eye opening, but it’s the culmination that stays with you.

The exhibit leads you to a backroom where the viewer is faced with three stark white panels of light. You stop and observe the panels, looking back at your shadow and those of others.

You continue to the back of the box, wait on a bench, for the light to turn green because that is what the directions say. The anticipation builds and you think, nothing can be worth this eight-minute wait. You consider getting up and leaving, catching the bus that leaves in 5 minutes, but you wait. Good idea.

The light turns green and you walk in and take a seat on a bench. It’s a small room that can fit about 15 people. The benches face towards a screen. The screen is surrounded by lights, but the lights face you.

The countdown ends and words appear on the screen. Kevin Carter. You are told the story of the apartheid in South Africa, the story of Carter, who experienced it for himself and how that experience forced a shadow upon his life. His experience in the South African Defense Force. About his ability to live through a suicide attempt and bombing, despite his desire to die. About the saving grace he found in photography. And the photo that made him famous and then, seemingly just as quickly, led to his demise. And with that, a flash of the lights and the photo appears on the screen. You feel your stomach drop like you’re on a rollercoaster ride, but you are just sitting on a bench in a black box, looking at a girl and a vulture.

This is where experiences differ. Because while Alfredo Jaar, the artist behind The Sound of Silence, can control a lot of the viewers’ experience, there are some things that are out of his hands.

There are 15 or so other people in the room. Jaar can’t control who the other 14 people are, if they’re respectful of the silence, if they speak during the silent narrative, if they gasp when the light bulbs flash, or jump back or grab their friend.

Jaar can’t control if you recognize the picture or you go with friends who recognize the picture or grab you when the light bulbs flash or gasp in your ear. Because the reactions of those around you an affect your experience.

Jaar attempts to tell the story of Kevin Carter in a vacuum, but unfortunately no matter how dark the room is, or how simple the storytelling method, there are some things he cannot control. And while the whispers and gasping may hinder the beginning of the experience, when those lights flash, no matter the reaction of the people around you, as Carter’s picture fades onto the screen, Jaar accomplishes his goal. The work encapsulates you, fills every corner of your mind and vision.

I went alone, which I would recommend. And while people checked their phone during the eight minutes and the couple next to me gasped as the lights flashed, I still was able to appreciate the experience. I walked out of The Sound of Silence with the pit still in my stomach. I knew of Carter’s picture, I knew it was controversial, but never had I thought of what that meant for the photographer. Jaar takes a whole new perspective in his work. Yes, the photo is important, but it’s the story that needs to be told. Not just of the 10 minutes or 10 hours surrounding the taking of the picture, but the journey the photographer took to get to Sudan on that day and why the criticism that fell upon his was too much to handle.

I experienced The Sound of Silence three weeks ago, and I still find myself thinking about it. I say experienced because I didn’t just see it, I felt it, I heard it, I was captured by it. The concept of Witness is an interesting one, and the MCA does a great job at portraying the concept throughout the exhibit, but if it wasn’t for Jaar I would have forgotten about Witness a month later. Now, I will never forget.