- Venue
- Novas Arts
- Location
- United Kingdom
Described as the most powerful video[1] in the “City States” exhibition, the film “Magma” is the first in a series of films by minimalist dance choreographer, Rannva Karadottir, and, visual artist and film maker, Marianna Morkore. Nestled in a walled alcove, the projected black and white film occupies an intimate and hidden space in which to be viewed. Set in the bleak and wild landscape of the remote Faroe Islands, approximately twenty performers inhabit the scene, depicting voiceless forms of interaction through physical movement.[2] The piece is accompanied by reverberating sounds from the windy wastelands. Morkore’s & Karadottir’s work shows a strong and evocative visual sensitivity, which is also articulated clearly in the duo’s other film, “Memotech”: winner of the international prize in the Betting on Shorts Film Festival. The film “Magma” is an experimental [3] video: ambiguous and enigmatic. As the title suggests, the work refers to unseen factors that dwell and bubble “beneath the surface”. Many conceptual viewpoints could be extracted from the work but I would like to reflect upon my initial thoughts and feelings that drew me to the piece: its meditative, dreamlike and surreal elements.
There is a timeless quality to the film; the opaque lighting, emulated by the use of black and white, makes it difficult to decipher whether it is dusk or dawn. The repetitive movements create fragmented stories that never fully start or finish. Transitions from one scene to another are staggered and jarring, with still frames that flash and scratch the surface of the projection as they pass between each change. These components, combined, all remind me of the temporality and spatiality of dreams. As Gaston Bachelard wrote Time melts away; dreams take place repeatedly in the present, without any possibility of determining past or future.[4]
One of the most dominant forces in the film is its backdrop: the carved moor lands and mountains that whirl, exhaust and dissolve into the air. The ghostly mist clinging to a rocky peak in one sustained shot and a figure standing within what looks like a meteorite crater, are both examples of the supernatural danger that the landscape seems to convey. All the dancers immersed in this atmosphere are costumed identically, in “all in one” black suits and their hair concealed beneath strange, skull hugging caps. This visual ploy makes each person seem indistinguishable from the next; homogeneous and cloned. As Marianna Morkore wrote to me herself, we want to create a surreal universe (Fig 1). I am reminded of Jungian psychology and cosmology here: the way in which Carl Jung describes how the psyche exists as an objective part of nature and is subject to the same laws that govern the universe.[5] This other “universe” created, I can associate with that of the subconscious dwelling: a place which, like the landscape, holds a lingering familiarity, whilst at the same time appearing vastly distant from reality.
Many scenes depict a meditative, trance like state. The performers stare vacantly, without expression, into the distance. Often, all eyes are closed or covered and this state of not seeing, of sleeping, of looking into an internal world behind closed lids, is done in unison. The group stand motionless in this state, as if all possessed in collective meditation. One significant image is that of a woman laying face up on the ground; a mass of hands circle and coil around her head as she sleeps; reminding me of some kind of ritualistic initiation. Part of an initiation is a rebirth and reawakening. The image is nightmarish; as if she is being overcome and overshadowed by these faceless forces. This particular scene reminds me of surrealist photographer, Alfred Otto Wolfgang Schilze’s image, “Hands” (Fig 2).
Repeated, refracted and reorganised hand gestures are common place within the dance choreography. Simplistic and isolated, they mimic the bare, stripped down aesthetic shown in the landscape and the costume. In Morkore’s & Karadottir’s words, minimalist gestures create(ing) a visual sense/meaning when done by a mass of people – simple but powerful (Fig.1). It is interesting how the palms of every performer’s hands are painted black. This binds the group in the same way that traditional body art unites tribal members. One recurring movement is the hands moving from side to side across the face. With each placement, half of the face is concealed with one hand, whist the black palm of the other hand is exposed alongside. This creates a mirror image; a movement from positive to negative, suggestive of a dualistic state.
This theme of duality seems to run throughout the film. Juxtapositions of opposing elements add to the unsettling feel and tension within the work. With one exception, the whole cast is female; shown as serene, calm and peaceful. Their gaze is passive; their movements are smooth and carefully placed. In contrast, the only male performer is filmed from a disorientating perspective. His first dance sequence is frantic, with sharp, rapid movements. The second shows him moving low down into the ground; a strange predatory crawl, travelling sideways towards the camera. Accompanied by the louring and perilous landscape and the disconcerting group mentality, this male figure seems to encompass the constant sense of foreboding that overshadows the film. Merged with the peaceful beauty shining through in the delicate composition and the casting of the female roles, this juxtaposition creates an unnerving ambience.
Frequently performers look blankly into the camera, yet the male performers gaze is the only one that is active and engaging. He almost snarls at the camera. In a sense film assumes the illusion that the viewer is invisible. When a subject in a film looks directly at the camera, he therefore looks directly at the viewer. Then this illusion is overturned. The viewer feels confronted and further immersed in the unsettling mood of the film.
The unclear string of visuals makes it difficult to decipher what this world is meant to be. As a viewer we are allowed to create our own associations spurred on by the mesmerising imagery. As Morkore & Karadottir state it is very important….that the film should not make sense as such, the visual context is more important (Fig 1). Initially I was frustrated with this description as I felt it oversimplified and devalued the content of the work. However I now realise that keeping this focus of visual context central and deliberately downplaying the ambiguous imagery in their account, had been a very clever and intentional tactic. My experience had taken me on a tangent into psychological cosmology and dreams. If this particular theme had been the artists’ initial intention, I doubt the same air of authenticity would have come across. The artists’ own bias, intent and beliefs may have contaminated the viewer’s perception. It is the works deliberate ambiguity that makes it so accessible and intriguing. As early film maker Luis Brunel stated, A film is like an involuntary imitation of a dream… on the screen, as with the human being, the nocturnal voyage unto the unconscious begins.[6]
[1] http://community.thisiscentralstation.com/_Liverpool-Day-2/blog/2686277/126249.html (accessed 26th Oct 2010)
[2] Quote from the text accompanying the work
[3] Quote from the text accompanying the work
[4] G. Bacherlard, Poetics of Imagination, trans. C. Gaudin (Indianapolis, 1971), pp. 98-9
[5] Jung, C. (1964) Man and his Symbols, Aldus Books Ltd
[6] Alison, J. (2010) The Surreal House, Barbican Art Gallery, p. 10
