Last night we went to the Berlin Festspiele for Klaus Lang’s ‘Fichten’, an orchestral experiment cum sound installation as part of the MaerzMusik festival.
The piece required you to take off your shoes and lie down on a huge mattress, surrounded by no less than four orchestra. Obscured by a thin black veil, the musicians took on a supernatural presence in the concert hall, and proceeded to play an hour long piece of sustained notes, breathy percussion and operatic moans that immediately brought to mind what I have heard of Gyorgy Kurtag, said to have been a huge inspiration on Scott Walker for his orchestral arrangements for the film Pola X, and later ‘The Drift’.
Needless to say it was initially uncomfortable listening, with staccato passages being divided between the four faces of the room , rather akin to playing ‘piggy in the middle’ with your ears. After a short time, however, you start to not strive for the orientation lost, choosing rather to submit to the overwhelming volume of information in the ‘eye of the hurricane’.
There is an immediacy to this experience, and I trust that many found a heightened level of calm when faced with the humbling sea of stimuli. This relenting of control unsettled me, however, and for that I am grateful.
I once read a fantastic article by Joe Banks in the Mark Pilkington compiled ‘Strange Attractor’ (Journal I) entitled ‘Rorschach Audio’, which ( in brief) spoke of Electronic Voice Phenomenon (E.V.P) – a curiosity discovered when soldiers responsible for intercepting enemy radio signals in World War II reported hearing the voices of dead relatives in the murky oceans of nothing.
I found this projection of the unconscious onto the blank canvas of noise a revelatory metaphor for how I understand both the creative process and the tropes of expression in general, and goes some way to explaining how we all experience something entirely different when faced with modern art. I think this is especially relevant to pieces bold enough to be minimal and, well, bold – albeit in colour or tone – base sensory stimuli and a screen for introspection.
Why are you doing this to me?
The orchestra appeared cold in the face of my confusion, calmly and obliviously playing their individual parts; contributions that appeared eerily detached from the collective noise.
It brought to mind scenes from Polanski’s ‘Rosemary’s Baby’, where our disoriented protagonist and mother stumbles through a crowd of contented party goers, with no-one singularly responsible for the predicament she is faced with. She questions her sanity as her senses and motherly intuition are pitted in conflict with her logic. This was, undoubtedly, a political statement – I know I have in the past felt (and been made to feel) like a paranoiac for having a negative intuition about something. Were they or weren’t they even there behind those veils, lit like spectres?
The orchestra began to appear privy to a clinical procedure, in a setting not entirely different from a surgeon’s theatre. This was truly an aural enema, and the potent image came to me of the string player’s participating in a game of tug of war with long pieces of a dental floss-like substance, cleaning out my ears, and a little of my brain , in the process. Hung out like washing, an unconvential puppetry.
The sensations then led me to themes of judgement.
The visual permeancy of the walls reminded me of police line-ups, and, unfortunately, executions. We lay there inanimately like fallen christians in ancient Rome, victims of a malevolent commotion, at the mercy of the collective rabble. Only recently, the Iraqi leader Saddam Hussein was slain by malevolent communication, and a perpetual hype machine that those clear of it’s range are powerless to interrupt. Judgement. Blood lust. We lay there in a forest of wire, prey to the omnipresent.
Upon leaving the theatre, the zip on my jacket broke. My favourite jacket, no less. My response was one of calmest calm, in fact the event seemed wonderfully trivial, rare given my nervous disposition. It needed throwing out anyway.
The visions of paranoid pandemonium inspired by Klaus Lang’s piece were probably not his specific intention, however I believe that this beautifully rendered juggernaut succeeded in creating head space for every individual lying on that mattress, and a psychological brainwash that you would pay far more than 15 euros for in a clinic.
Compelling, and truly cathartic.
Filed under: Berlin, Exhibition, Music, Recommended
