申論題

"Isolation. Intended or not in individual cases, the melancholy gestalt is strong, as is its silver- lining irony of satisfying all artists' ruling wish: to be alone in the studio. Alone with themselves. I found myself experiencing the works less as calculated images than as prayers.
 It's an effect common enough in both art and life: consciousness stumbling upon soulfulness. I think of lines by John Ashbery:
 The soul is not a soul,
 Has no secret, is small, and it fits
 Its hollow perfectly, its room, our moment of attention.
 An event rather than an entity, the soul defines our deepest depths, oblivious of sensation, thought, and feeling - touching bottom in our simple existence. Nearly all mystics posit a oneness of attention and worship. Friends agree with me that, for those of us who have been confined to home, these past months of forced lassitude have given rise to moments that are essentially mystical: temporary losses of ourselves, like existential hiccups, that we would likely not have noticed if we were leading full lives."
Art and the pandemic.
First question (50 %): Explain the above passage as best you can.
Second Question (50 %): What piece of art has brought you to recognize a 'oneness of attention and worship'? What poem, movie, novel, music, painting has moved you to a loss of yourself you would call mystical?