As part of the World Event Young Artists Festival in Nottingham, the majority of art venues and galleries were getting involved in this huge event, with exclusive performances and showcases from a wide variety of artists. Nottingham Contemporary hosted the sensory experience of Blackout, described as "a rare opportunity to explore the potential of our minds. With sensory limitations placed on the artists and audience, cutting edge musicians play anonymously and are never revealed in the pitch black...leaving the crowd to personally explore the sensory interplay between their imagination and the music."
This sounded like a fantastic method of heightening senses, and producing an unusual platform to experience music and visual art. As with any type of artwork of this kind, there is always a trepidation in not knowing what to expect. The programme stated that the artist playing would also remain unknown and therefore there was no way of knowing what to prepare for, what may lie beyond the darkness.
When it came to actually entering the darkened space, ushered in one by one, the intensity of the dark is quite intimidating. I don't think anyone nearly expects darkness that is so pitch black that you literally cannot see your hand in front of your face. I realised that as soon as I entered the room and couldn't see, I was reaching out in front of me for someone, anyone. I felt comforted when I could feel my fingers brush across a complete stranger's back. There's an odd sense of reassurance. The expanse of black seemed so vast, and yet you feel trapped in a bubble, unable to reach anyone else, even though you can hear people around you. I think the most unnerving sensation throughout all of this is the sense of displacement. You cannot locate yourself in relation to anyone else or the space. You have no idea exactly how many people are sharing the space with you, and how close or far away they all are. It is rather disorientating. After a short period, as more and more viewers were entering, you could hear people sitting down, and I felt uneasy about what the appropriate behaviour was in this circumstance. I didn't know whether I was expected to sit, stand, walk, regardless that at this point I was much more comfortable standing still. I found that when I actually decided to sit down, I felt a sense of relief. The ground seemed to give me a better sense of where I was, where I could sit and slowly move my arms around me. My biggest concern was whether people would bump or step into you unexpectedly, but surprisingly that didn't happen. Perhaps everyone was staying still.
As your eyes begin to adjust to the space, you begin to make out very vague outlines, shapes, and these were from high above the space, in the ceiling where I suppose they couldn't eliminate all sources of light, however dull it was. The effect of darkness still was extreme during the whole performance. When the music started, it was not what I had expected. From the description in the progamme, I expected there to be noises, sounds, music coming from all sides, from above, below, and in reality the performer was obviously staged in one spot behind a huge screen. This ruined the effect quite a bit for me. The music was loud, but I didn't feel completely immersed. Maybe the intention was not to disorientate, but to allow the viewer to come to a calm, blank state where they could focus on the music completely. Even so, throughout the performance, people were murmuring, which made the intention of isolation through the use of darkness not as successful. I could understand what was trying to be achieved, but I was a little disappointed.
When the anonymous performer finished, light began to slowly gather behind the screen, like the sun rising. Slowly, you could make out the people all around you, and it was as if the space and audience was revealed. This was a transition from one performer to another. Shortly after, the huge projection screen lit up with intense colour, and this I think was the most wonderful moment of the whole performance. The change from complete darkness, to almost blinding colour was magnificent. It reminded me briefly of Olafur Eliasson's Weather Project in the Turbine Hall, how everyone was suddenly bathed in light, from one source.
What followed was artist Mark Colasso performing an electronic audio-visual performance using sensors and digital instruments. The work is stated to be an "exploration of the frequencies connecting the world and its inhabitants, and the relationships that occur between them. The audio technology piece named "Because" uses DIY instruments and extemporisation from the human to reflect the rhythms of life. Colasso's musical display was innovative and enrapturing, the space transformed into a theater in seconds, and when I looked round, people were lying on their backs, sat down, bathed in light and sound that was coming from the screen.
Mark Colasso states that by using this technology, he is able to "play with different modes of listening, different attitudes in sound perception. I use a wide a palette of sounds, ranging from the artificial to the real world, from real to imaginary spaces, play with connotative, evocative power of a 'soundmark' or 'soundscape' to the particular beauty that can give a composition with abstract sounds which cannot be related to their causes or generation."
From sensory deprivation to sensory overload, it was quite an experience. Not quite one I had expected, but with the growing number of performances and installations experimenting with the senses, there certainly won't be a lack of artworks to compare to.
Perhaps it is only in darkness, when our realities are masked, that we are able to really listen, really see, really feel, really touch and really experience the world around us.
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