• Uncomfortable Fictions: Carsten Holler – Eric Ward

    Date posted: June 14, 2006 Author: jolanta

    Uncomfortable Fictions: Carsten Holler

    Eric Ward

    Carsten
    Holler, born in Brussels, Belgium in 1961, was professionally employed as a
    scientist focusing on insect behaviors before he saw the artistic implications
    within his work. For the past ten years he has worked independently, and
    collaborated with many artists in order to redefine the art museum experience as we have traditionally come to expect. Rather than a slow, meandering stroll through square-walled rooms and roped off sculptures, Holler has not only created a colorful and thought-provoking interactive collection, but like technology itself, has gone a step further, and made the spectator the subject.
     

    Carsten Holler, Light Corner

    Carsten Holler, Light Corner
    The ICA in
    Boston was the ideal location for Holler’s "Half Fiction," his first
    solo show in the United States. Indirect light, oddly-shaped rooms and
    hollowed-echoing floors heightened the mysterious shapes and images Holler
    provides. This particular show delved into our doubt and uncertainty, forcing
    us to indirectly face our fears. His installations provided not only an
    experience of awkward perception, but also a metaphor for passage.

     

    The first
    installation was the Choice Corridor, "a disorienting and gradually darkening passageway
    that visitors must navigate with only "non-visual stimuli". When
    initially entering the piece, the audience encountered a long hallway, dimly
    lit, narrow and ominous. As one proceeded to the end of the corridor, a u-turn
    had to be made, followed by another, before the scene was complete darkness, a
    darkness we normally reserve only for the bedroom and for sleep. The visitor
    was constantly aware that this was an art exhibit within a museum, though the
    quiet, pitch black maze was deafening from the pulse which raced as she or he
    continued on. At each turn, one could not tell if it was be better to turn
    back, or proceed forward, or if in fact one was still even going forward at
    all. As confusing and stimulating as the structure was, this was is in no way a
    shabby funhouse atmosphere. There was no logical reason for fear, it was an
    empty hallway in the same museum we had entered just moments ago; but Holler
    successfully moved his audience a step past comfort within minutes. At a last
    corner, the light became visible, and the visitor "moved into the
    light". A warm security overcomes you, and you exit unsure why you had
    been so uneasy. The museum is again full of viewers, staff and normalcy. It was
    only the subject, yourself, who created the unnecessary element of fear.

     

    In The
    Forest, the viewer
    was placed in yet another state of slight confusion and disorientation. In
    this installation, the visitor wears a pair of glasses which place a small LCD
    monitor in front of each eye. As the vision plays in front of you, it appears
    to be a slow walk thought a snowy, desolate woods at dusk. As you make your way
    deeper, both cameras cross, and continue to diverge in opposite directions. The
    resulting visual stimulation leaves the viewer confused, lost and eager to come
    back to normalcy. Your brain desperately attempts to make sense of the
    wandering sight lines, but you cannot center them. The effectiveness of the
    engagement is overwhelming, truly a similar feeling to hiking and experiencing
    the momentary adrenaline rush that only comes from possibly being lost.

     

    Perhaps
    the most invigorating piece was Light Corner
    style=’font-size:8.0pt;font-family:Verdana’>. Upon entering the room, an
    immediate sensation of intense heat comes from the glowing structure. It is a
    free standing corner wall, which contains almost 1800 light bulbs flickering at
    a frequency of 7.8hz, and it "synchronizes with the viewer’s brain,
    inducing strong retinal after-images." With eyes closed, the viewer
    experiences a kaleidoscope of colors, and the body is enveloped in a warming
    glow, as if submersed in a strobe-lit incubator. The Light Corner
    style=’font-size:8.0pt;font-family:Verdana’> room leaves you with a weary head,
    as if you’ve been on a carnival ride one too many times, but it is also
    strangely soothing.

     

    Completing
    the journey begun in the darkness, the last two stops in the exhibition were Sphere
    style=’font-size:8.0pt;font-family:Verdana’> and Slide
    style=’font-size:8.0pt;font-family:Verdana’>. Holler has always been fascinated
    with travel: these two creations are structures intended for physical
    transportation. The aptly titled Sphere stood isolated, and appeared out of place inside the
    large, empty room. Designed with steel and brass, it is industrious, sterile,
    and overpowering. Slide was the path back out to the main entrance. Designed to instill a
    feeling of an out-of-control experience, the two-story structure was the adult
    version of the encased slides of our neighborhood parks. Ironically, rather
    than closing the exhibit with a final reaffirming experience, after coming so
    far and moving past various levels of growth and comfort, Holler brought the
    viewer full circle, back to childhood and the naivety with which she or he
    began.

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