Quite to not so recently, I interviewed Angela White (porn star and candidate for the Australian Sex Party), curator of the Town Hall Gallery's Beardo Exhibition, and musical director of Hair Removal the Musical. So, they have nothing in common at all... except in my mind.
I interview people a lot - and I love it. With everyone I speak to, I always learn something new. At times frivolous, at others, mind-blowing, but every single time - fascinating, mostly attributed to my being fascinated very easily.
November 24, 2010
Bill Viola: The Raft + Humanity
Late, late post:
After a good handful of Melbourne Art Festival shows, it is visual artist Bill Viola's The Raft that gets my vote for best show of the festival. In fact, the visual artwork could well be one of the most memorable artworks I've seen this year.
The Raft is Viola's interpretation of French painter, Théodore Géricault's The Raft of the Medusa which documented the shipwreck of the French naval brigade, Méduse.
Recorded using high-speed film but played in slow motion, a group of everyday men and women of all ethnic backgrounds slowly walk into a minimalist space. As they enter, each are absorbed in their own world, standing amongst other strangers listening to music, staring out into space - not interacting with one another. They squeeze past and through each other for a place in the space, before standing still - some barely shifting to make room for newcomers.
It's a snapshot of a scene you can find on any mode of public transport.
Suddenly - and without warning - a powerful jet of water from an unknown source crashes into the group of strangers from either side of the screen. The potency of the water is enough to send some crashing to the ground, displacing them from their initial standing position. Chaos consumes the once static atmosphere as each copes with the disaster.
The havoc created is significantly heart-wrenching. The artwork targets the audience's compassion. It has recreated the feelings we get from watching disasters from around the world - whether on the news or in real life - it is witnessing the suffering of others and the feelings of helplessness.
In the end sequence of The Raft, we see the aftermath of the destruction felt by the characters in the video. Once strangers, they begin to interact with one another; helping the fallen get up, holding each other, lending a hand to the injured. The fact that the video installation is mostly silent with the exception of weak cries of distress makes the visuals that much more effective. In this section of The Raft, we witness humanity - the notion that not only should we care for one another, but that we often do.
Despite the confronting images of The Raft, it is mostly a hopeful piece. But underlying it all is a certain sad and distressing train of thought. The juxtaposition of detachment between the strangers at the start, and later, their interaction only reiterates the fact that we are all connected. Sadly, the connection in this artwork is disaster. Why is it that only in catastrophe we come together?
After a good handful of Melbourne Art Festival shows, it is visual artist Bill Viola's The Raft that gets my vote for best show of the festival. In fact, the visual artwork could well be one of the most memorable artworks I've seen this year.
The Raft is Viola's interpretation of French painter, Théodore Géricault's The Raft of the Medusa which documented the shipwreck of the French naval brigade, Méduse.
Recorded using high-speed film but played in slow motion, a group of everyday men and women of all ethnic backgrounds slowly walk into a minimalist space. As they enter, each are absorbed in their own world, standing amongst other strangers listening to music, staring out into space - not interacting with one another. They squeeze past and through each other for a place in the space, before standing still - some barely shifting to make room for newcomers.
It's a snapshot of a scene you can find on any mode of public transport.
Suddenly - and without warning - a powerful jet of water from an unknown source crashes into the group of strangers from either side of the screen. The potency of the water is enough to send some crashing to the ground, displacing them from their initial standing position. Chaos consumes the once static atmosphere as each copes with the disaster.
The havoc created is significantly heart-wrenching. The artwork targets the audience's compassion. It has recreated the feelings we get from watching disasters from around the world - whether on the news or in real life - it is witnessing the suffering of others and the feelings of helplessness.
In the end sequence of The Raft, we see the aftermath of the destruction felt by the characters in the video. Once strangers, they begin to interact with one another; helping the fallen get up, holding each other, lending a hand to the injured. The fact that the video installation is mostly silent with the exception of weak cries of distress makes the visuals that much more effective. In this section of The Raft, we witness humanity - the notion that not only should we care for one another, but that we often do.
Despite the confronting images of The Raft, it is mostly a hopeful piece. But underlying it all is a certain sad and distressing train of thought. The juxtaposition of detachment between the strangers at the start, and later, their interaction only reiterates the fact that we are all connected. Sadly, the connection in this artwork is disaster. Why is it that only in catastrophe we come together?
The Raft is currently being exhibited at Melbourne's ACMI till the 10th of February 2011
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