There’s a current slightly disturbing trend within
contemporary curation at the moment, that beginning the complete darkness
galleries appear to be willing to plunge us into. Maybe I need better eyes,
anyway shuffling hand against the dry MDF partition I make my way into No
Permanent Address Mark Boulos’s ,
documentary installation you could call it. Where across three screens I’m introduced
to various members of a communist militia living in the jungles of the
Philippine’s.
It’s a pretty absorbing account of individuals who seem to
be living in their own world, of a self-contained society perhaps some of the
last Marxist society’s outthere. The dedication of the members of this group
(the New People’s Army) as they detail the sacrifices they’ve made to follow
the course while causally clutching M16’s is obviously real. Though my ignorance
of the wider aspects of the political scene in the Philippines’ makes me regard
the information supplied to me across three screens with a kind of neutrality.
I do think more about that device of using three screens,
which has become quite a common device within video installations over the last
decade or so. For me it doesn’t add much to the narrative and I wonder if it
was employed simply to change a ‘documentary’ into ‘art’. Still it doesn’t
distract from what I’m seeing, so yeah.
Another Boulos’s installations (All that is Solid Melts into
Air) which offers reflecting narratives across two opposing screens. One is
filled with fluctuating digital numbers and aerial shoots of Chicago and the
bullpit of a western stock exchange. The other offers images of oil platforms
in the Niger Delta, more important it offers the voice of members of a group
who are, quite rightfully perhaps, have taken to violence at the fact that they
as Nigerians receive nothing while their countries resources are taken.
I know that there is political point being made here, but
one scene strikes me. When one of the anti-Shell organisation performs a ritual
to turn his body into stone, to make himself invincible to bullets and is then joined
by his colleagues in a chant to call upon the spirit of a ‘thunder god’ . I begin
to see I connection between these rituals and the rituals being performed on
the other screen. The stockbrokers do seem to be casting symbols, raising their
arms to catch the spirit of the numbers to call on the god of commerce. Both
actions, both rituals are as equally abstract but it does raise the question
which one of these abstract acts is the more dangerous?
Now on to the centrepiece of the exhibition Echo, which
promises an almost magical transportation of physical and mental states. One entering
the space you see an disc of yellowish light on the floor, this is for you and
entering it starts the experience. On doing so, and not surprisingly, I’m very
aware I’m standing in a spotlight, in a gallery, I’m very aware of myself. I spend
a few moments nervously fidgeting with my clothes, trying to present a better
image to my future self not really paying attention to the cityscape being projected.
It’s only when the image begins to recede I begin to pay attention and to feel
a little woozy. After that I begin to pay attention to the projection, in which
I appear as a relfection of a ghost quite aware that I’m not in that projection
I’m in front of it. Very much aware of the bright light making the rims of my
specs glow amber.
On the whole it feels like an academic exercise, especially
when filling out the questionnaire afterwards. A piece to tickle the intellect
rather than to pluck the heartstrings. Which leaves me thinking about the
experience, I’m glad to have taken part it feels like I’ve done the right
thing, done something beneficial, like attending a lecture.
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