DARK MATTER: Art in a Digital Era Full of Strangers
BY SARA DELGADO GARCIA
I went to this exhibition in a city that I believe has developed a very specific - and complex - identity in the European imaginary over the past few years. Depending on your environment, you might perceive Berlin as one of Europe’s financial capitals, an international liberal hub where anyone can reinvent themself, a city that had to build itself from the ashes or, for some, the capital of techno. These concepts are of course intertwined, and probably the result of a struggling metropolis that thrived to build its own identity following Germany’s darkest moments. After the fall of the Berlin Wall, in the face of a divided society, the rhythmic and futurist sounds amongst the crumbling walls of abandoned buildings gave a chance for people to meet once again. For people, techno raves became a realm through which to reconnect. When it comes to reunifying people, there’s much to be said for what light and sound can do, and no city knows that better than Berlin.
If there were an art form enhancing what the urban imaginary of Berlin entitles, I would definitely bet on Christopher Bauder’s work, DARK MATTER. Bauder is a Berlinese light artist, focused on large-scale digital creations. He’s designed installations and performances for museums, as well as festivals, all across the world, with all of them conceived as a ‘system’ you’re meant to walk through rather than a piece of art to comment over. And that’s how this one felt as well, which of course complicates the task of reviewing it.
First of all, the location gives the impression of a techno club - it is in a suburban area, away from the city centre’s tumult. On the way, you pass quiet, long, dark alleys, as well as several clubs within the neighbourhood that turn into the city’s heart in the early hours. A part of me was almost expecting to get ID’d at the entrance, to be honest.
The exhibition is a combination of six immersive rooms, where music, light, and space are adapted to create different concepts and shows. In between sets, a terraced area for people to have drinks and engage in conversation provides a good break. Some of the rooms reminded me of the Edinburgh Camera Obscura, but I shall mention only the rooms that captivated my attention the most.
The second room, ‘Inverse’, was one of these.
We were outsiders. A room divided in two: viewers held in absolute darkness and a set of ‘particles’ floating in a white space. You might be asking: Particles? Black spherical objects hanging from the ceiling by invisible threads, and the imitation noise of colliding objects, or nature sounds. Still at times, a slow beginning where, by simply adjusting the length of the threads, perfect shapes form in space. A wave in slow motion, a helix imitating a DNA chain, an expanding mass. An overall sense of unity and connectedness. But as the performance progresses, the particles arrange in what seems to be a living organism, imitating breathing to the rhythm of Boris Acket’s sound composition. The artist’s music is a combination of dark techno with organic sounds, which creates an unexpected sense of intensity and dynamism to what otherwise would seem like a random set of figures in space: his piece turns the movement of the kinetic figures into an absorbing fight against matter.
Other room-projects, like ‘Circular’ or ‘Bonfire’, seem more of a light exhibition, where the idea of transmitting an abstract concept is not conveyed as strongly. In ‘Circular’, the light performs a circular movement through three loops, with intensity being transmitted through addition of light and expansion of the circles. Here, Acket chose hypnotic rhythms, and transitions between phases are much more subtle.
Moving from this to ‘Bonfire’ was somewhat of an unsettling experience in itself, as you shift from a public/performance division to a work around which the observers are asked to sit in a circle. This room, one of the largest, leaves behind all techno sounds or abstract concepts, replacing them with the conceptual idea of a bonfire. Vertical LED lights imitating the flames and sounds of cracking wood are added to create the atmosphere of a late-night bonfire, with artificial lights added to imitate the stars. The idea behind this combination is to raise awareness around the issue of technology’s omnipresence in modern society, the power it has, and how much it has managed to disconnect us from nature, as we keep drifting further away from it. I would argue that the piece didn’t come across as impactful as the ones I had previously seen, but it did manage to bring out some of the characteristics one may find in a large summer bonfire. Namely, the gathering in a circle with strangers, and maintaining eye contact with people you don’t know. I believe the intention behind the room is to form, within that circle, a space where the only thing people have in common is curiosity for the exhibition and the fact they happen to be in Berlin at the same time. Within that circle, eyes meet and allow you to notice a stranger for slightly longer than you normally would have done. The purpose thus being to notice one another.
I’ll jump directly to the last room for this is the one which impacted me most. Here, a game of lights took place above us, whilst we were all lying on our backs on cushions on the floor. Bauder’s last piece of the collection plays around with size, sound, and light. Movement and scale are multiplied and although it is not a walk-in scenario, it feels much more immersive than the previous ones. The entire performance is conducted through a set of triangles forming a grid, which hovers over the audience. Kinetic motion is accompanied by Robert Henke’s music composition. This electronic music artist did not hesitate to experiment and create dramatic contrasts between different phases of the performance. From quiet sounds to match light colours, where the grid seems to be in a sort of trance, to menacing rhythmic tones accompanying the most intense fractions. Although this performance could not be any more different in appearance from ‘Bonfire’, here, a similar issue is raised: the threshold between the physical and digital worlds. As I was bewitched by this computer-generated surface, and the artificial sounds guiding my emotions through it, I wondered how different this was from staring at a starry sky on a summer night, or at the raging sea during a storm. Or from dancing in a crowd of strangers amazed by the play of lights and smoke in the room. Hours later, whilst listening to trance music surrounded by people that were more captivated by their environment than interacting with one another, I asked myself: to what extent are either of these activities a collective activity? People talk about some of these experiences – a summer bonfire, underground raves within the fall of the Berlin wall – as unifying moments, as a way of connecting with others. What if feeling connected does not only come from the shared experience? Is it the look you exchange with a stranger across the room? The way in which we each find a place in which to contemplate, to dance, or to move?
Be it a DJ in an abandoned building, an artificial bonfire, or a starry sky on a summer night, all have the ability to capture a crowd of strangers in time without dialogue nor a strong narrative, only compelling sounds and strong imagery. As they stand under the false impression of being absolutely detached from each other, something changes: the substantial awareness of one another.
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