I IS ELSEWHERE
In her book, Installation Art (2005),
the English art historian, Claire Bishop, describes different categories
of installations in terms of the role played in them by the viewing
subject. This option is both simple and evident, since a fundamental
aspect of that discipline involves the spectator having to venture
into a spatial structure, thus becoming a constituent part of the
work. However, Bishop is still unique in not starting with the work
(and only integrating the spectator at a later stage), as she places
the subject in the very centre of her analysis right from the outset.
This slant is particularly useful for an understanding
of Elín Hansdóttir’s works. This young Icelandic
artist’s installations are grounded in the preconceived ideas
held by the people that will enter these spaces. By contending she
can only conceive of her artistic production as a process and that
she does not work towards a finished object, Hansdóttir
proffers an interpretive framework which is implicitly valid for
the would-be spectator, too. By thus departing from the modernist
advocacy for ‘instant capture’—along the lines
of Clement Greenberg, for example—Hansdóttir sets the
time one spends in the installation at the very heart of one’s
aesthetic experience of the work.
This procedure may be construed in the tradition
of James Turrell—Hansdóttir proposes spaces which she
fashions painstakingly and in great detail where minimal shifts
in perception are generated, based necessarily on the passing of
time. While spectators may initially appear to be an active element—they
have to enter the installation, cross it and decide where to head,
how long to stay and when to get out—her works are actually
geared to the passive spectator. The latter does not create the
experience but becomes its subject. Perceptive awareness of our
own body is not heightened; on the contrary, it is dulled. Consequently,
the experience shakes our faith in the stability of the world around
us, and the control we exert over it, bringing home an awareness
of our own ‘decentralisation’ and ‘fragmentation’
(Bishop).
In a 2007 work, Hansdóttir clad a whole
staircase in white-painted planks at the ZKM, Karlsruhe, shifting
the vertical plane and imperceptibly constricting the walls upwards,
until they practically caved in at the top, thereby depriving visitors
of perceiving space naturally and leading them to an awareness of
how crucial space is in viewing themselves and their body.
For her exhibition at the Maribel López
Gallery, the artist has designed a tunnel that tilts downwards and
zigzags across the gallery space. It has sharp edges, and light
filters in at irregular intervals through cracks in the tunnel walls,
which have not been properly sealed. The direction inside it changes
so markedly that spectators soon lose any notion of where they are,
and where the exit lies.
In this work, Hansdóttir sets out to heighten
awareness of our body through the loss of our usual spatial bearings.
Visitors are thus persistently exposed to a spatial experience of
decentralisation, disorientation, fragmentation and insecurity.
Since there is no noticeable physical difference between ourselves
and the objects without, our ability to conceptualize our surrounding
space becomes jaded.
In this instance our customary points of reference,
those we base our security on, become disconcerting—we are
unable to focus on the sharp edges and extremely acute angles that
mark changes of direction. Like some optical illusion, by attempting
to touch and cling to them, we end up confusing the commonplace
with the real.
Ellen Blumenstein |