Transit't: Your breath was shed

"What is the topology of breath? What is the ontology of breath?" the description at LEA10, Transit't: Your breath was shed, asks us. Those are heady questions, and curator Mimesis Monday (storyteller Heidi Dahlsveen in real life) invited visual artist Giovanna Cerise, performance artist SaveMe Oh, and blogger Fjara (Jordan Giant) to contribute toward an exploration and understanding. The installation is the first in a series under the Transit't name (each to last about a month at LEA10)—Breath will be followed by a consideration of Silence by Selavy Oh, and finally Personality by Alpha Auer, along with the involvement of other artists to be announced. A culminating exhibition will take place in real life at Oslo and Akershus University College of Applied Sciences in Norway. "Breath was difficult," Mimesis told me, "difficult to relate to art expressions except for dance and poetry." (There will be additional events scheduled, including storytelling.)

The land at LEA10 is divided into a series of high-walled spaces that guide us on a linear path. The first room, to which I was drawn the most strongly, was by Mimesis, who contributed a couple areas to the installation: here, a series of about 40 closely spaced enormous translucent prims, each of which bears a rapidly moving texture of words. (In the top image here (click to zoom in) the words are caught in time for a moment.) Venturing through the largely empty second space—a performance venue about which I'll say more below—we enter a second room by Mimesis, and here we also encounter Fjara's contribution: she was asked to decorate a boat, located in the air above the far corner. It rests on a handwritten letter and is filled with books and candles. "I wanted to create a contrast to Giovanna's more conceptual art," says Mimesis, "a place to actually breathe when you read a story or write a letter."

Giovanna's works are four in number: Suffocation, Energy, The Game of Life, and Delirium. "Man enters the game of life through the first breath," she writes. "This is always connected intrinsically to the emotional word. The breath of life allows us to live, and, when it is held, our emotions are imprisoned too." I have taken to liking Giovanna's works in general, especially her large-scale installations, but had a more difficult time warming to these (including the second and third images)—and I'm not convinced that the high white and orange walls are the best supporting environment.

SaveMe Oh's contribution to this inquiry was for me the high point (two lowest images). On March 9, she presented Wear to Move, documented by Fuschia Nightfire in this video. (Also see an earlier video by SaveMe of the piece here.) In a series of vignettes or movements, the attendees (the audience) were asked to strip their usual clothes (changing rooms were available) and wear attachments (the artwork) and animations. Around this entire group of performers/audience, now essentially wearing the artwork (or, more to the point, they were the artwork) and moving in common gesture, was rezzed an environment. Experientially, SaveMe eliminated the distinction between performer, audience and artwork: they become all one and the same, and the event was insightful, playful and skillfully executed. Mimesis's storytelling (schedule to be announced) will employ a similar method: "I will try to make interactive storytelling, in the sense that the participants will attach the story to them while I'm telling it, something similar to SaveMe's performance." Your breath was shed will be on display at LEA10 through the end of March.

Insanity

Now open at MetaLES, curated by Ux Hax, Lanjran Choche and Romy Nayar, is a compelling and disturbing installation by Cherry Manga, Insanity. The dark and dirty yellowish landscape of rolling hills and watery patches is populated with pained figures—sometimes complete, sometimes only heads—whose expressions suggest that not only are their bodies visibly troubled but also so are their minds. The largest figure, a nude female form, stretches across the top of a hill, her back to the earth and her hand reaching upwards with the word "insanity" emerging from her palm (top image). Another female form stands in the water, visible only from the waist up, with distorted heads pushing out from her breast, shoulder, head and hand, as if she's being ripped apart at the seams, and a long surrealistic breath issues from her mouth, another head at its apex (second image). Around her, figures holding failing parachutes plummet into the sea.

The heads are everyone: yearning up from the ground, melted in a Dalíesque way over wires, or wrapped in chains, some suggesting that they're calling for help, others too far gone (third image). Ladders, which we might think of as a symbol of upward progress or motion, are twisted into unusable shapes (fourth image). Despondent gray forms sit amid a hideous black scribble that rotates around them. The ground texture itself suggests the walls of a padded room. Having had people in my own life who have grappled with mental illness, including a suicidal partner who required extended hospitalization, I was struck by how well Cherry captured and conveyed a pervasive feeling of helplessness—and I'm not really even referring to people who might be so ill as to be labeled insane.

Be sure to have your local sounds turns up and to zoom in on the figures—many have haunting songs or sounds waiting for you. Arts writer Thirza Ember posted a lengthy piece about Insanity on her blog, Second Life ArtsParks, and I recommend reading it for additional perspective and insight. While you're visiting MetaLES, you can also visit the machinima area—a teleport is located near the landing point, and takes you back to see installations by previous artists at the space, including Rebeca Bashley, Cica Ghost, Selavy Oh, Anley Piers, Maya Paris, Bryn Oh, Romy Nayar, Shellina Winkler and Fushcia Nightfire.

Fae Varriale at Tanalois Art & torno Kohime Foundation

Opening today, Thursday, March 13 at 2:30 pm slt (now as I write this) is an exhibition of two-dimensional and three-dimensional works by Fae Varriale sponsored by Tanalois Art and the torno Kohime Foundation. I've long enjoyed seeing Fae's photography on flickr, but was less familiar with her three-dimensional works, and she mentions that they're not on display anywhere else right now.

If you'd like to know more about Fae and her works, visit an interview with her by Nino Vichan on the Tanalois Art blog. I'm a bit pressed for time to get this posted, so I'm not going to add much more, but all the objects in the exhibit are for sale. Please consider a contribution to the gallery as well—they're a great presenter of excellent art.

New Home for Plusia Ars Island

Plusia Ars Island, owned and curated by Seaside (Paolo Seaside), MAREA (Marea2007 Praga) and Magicfly Mayo, has just changed locations, moving from the sim Serena Panarea to Crystal Cove. The transition from a homestead to a full sim will permit substantially greater opportunities for the presentation of artworks. Currently on display, as I wrote about recently here, is a major installation by Gem Preiz, A Cathedral Dreamer. Works by other artists, including JadeYu Fhang and Mistero Hifeng, can be found on display, and nineteen images by me, originally displayed for the 2013 Distance/Depth exhibition, can also be viewed.

It all starts with a smile

Last May, Kaelyn Alecto announced that her sim, It all starts with a smile, would be closing because of some challenging financial circumstances. Fortunately, she was able to keep it open, and it remained a favorite spot for many to visit—quaint and charming. (I wrote about it here.) Eventually she remodeled the sim with a remarkable new design, and again recently updated it for spring (all with some added landscaping participation from Jac Mornington, superjaix and others).

It's really a stupendous place, and it's clear even as one first arrives that a great deal of thought went into the overall experience—the way a view might unfold as one turns a corner, or a line of sight that might draw one's eye toward a feature. From the landing point, I would recommend first exploring by way of the boardwalk that glides across the water on the south edge of the sim, meandering through water lilies along the rocky coastline finally ending at a lake fed by lush waterfalls. The sim wrap-around contributes to striking vistas and a great sense of depth.

The central part of the island, rising high above, is home to a delightful little village, its clock tower stretching up towards the sky. And everywhere you might go in the sim, you'll discover curios and little spots that are nestled away—and they really can make you smile. If you enjoy It all starts with a smile, please consider leaving a contribution at the landing point.

Tyrehl Byk at The Rose Theatre & Art Gallery

Now open at The Rose Theatre & Art Gallery is an excellent display of works by particle master Tyrehl Byk. These are, given the sim-wide scale of some of Tyrehl's works, what we might think of miniatures, and many could easily fit inside a home, attached to a wall or nestled in a corner. Common to many of these works is their high degree of interactivity: for example, in the lowest image here, The Ego's Many Eyes, you'll spot ten buttons at the bottom, and activating various combinations of them changes the particle display. "His work is a lot of fun," remarked curator Kylie Angel Skyborne, and she's right—there's an inclination to let one's inner child come out to play.

It's easy to become mesmerized by the slowly changing patterns and to play with options. Most of the objects are for sale, generally in the L$500 to L$1,500 range, so if you've never owned one of Tyrehl's works—and I haven't seen a display of them like this for some time—this is a good opportunity to pick up a work. Make sure when you visit that you have local sounds turned on, and do take time to explore some of many other offerings at The Rose.

The Akasha Mechanicum

Now open at LEA13, site of The {Lost} Garden Of Sundarya Lahari by Xineohp Guisse, is the second phase of the installation: The Akasha Mechanicum. Picking up from where the first phase left off (read my blog post from February 8 here for more), The Akasha Mechanicum tells the story of a great creature that rose up from the depths of the sea, and which was promptly killed by "the Ancients" whose garden of tranquility stands above the waters. Too late, they realized that she was in fact the mother of the creatures they so lovingly nourished. They found a way to keep her alive, headless and frozen in position (top image), so that her species could live on.

The entrance to The Akasha Mechanicum is actually through the insect-like body. "Just outside, you'll see 'Mother,'" said Xineohp. "Can't miss it. Fly up and enter through her decapitated head," he cheerfully instructed me. After traveling down the innards, we're quite literally dumped onto the sea floor, greeted by a water forest (lowest two images) where lie the eggs, guarded by the Pentapuss. "The Ancients built plant-like structures which they named the Mechanicum, and placed them within the Pentapuss lair. The Mechanicum provided the Pentapuss larvaes with nutritional spores as well as a place to hide when threatened," the accompanying installation book tells us.

If the larvae strikingly resemble sperm, rapidly flagellating and darting about, the beautiful texture in the lowest interior chamber of Mother is suggestive of aroused labia (second image). (These images don't do The Akasha Mechanicum justice, given the amount of movement you'll see.) Be sure, as you arrive, to pick up the exhibition books and notecards at the landing point. The {Lost} Garden Of Sundarya Lahari will continue in April with a third chapter.

Little Village

Opening tomorrow, Thursday, March 6 at 12 pm slt is a delightful new installation by Cica Ghost entitled Little Village. Few places make me smile on first sight but Little Village did, with its quirky thirty little homes dotted around the edge of the sim, some single, some in little clusters, their shapes silhouetted against the sepia sky. They look old—indeed, nothing about this village seems new, as even the flowers and trees look weathered. Perhaps the houses on the little hillocks once stood straight, but they've long since begun to tilt and slide down—or maybe that's just how they've always been.

Each of the comical stone, brick or cement homes (some in need of a fresh coat of paint) has a door and step, a window or two or three, and a pointed roof with a chimney jutting out at an odd angle. We sense people live here, because a couple of cats can be spotted in windows. (Can you find them?) Or it could be, as Cica told me playfully, "Maybe only cats live here." The village possesses a naïve simplicity and charm that's entirely disarming, and I remarked to Cica that it reminded me a little of Dr. Suess books from my childhood, as if Mr. Brown and Mr. Black might emerge from their homes at any moment.

Surrounding the homes is an amusing environment of stubby trees, flowers and grasses, mushrooms and tree stumps, fences, barrels (with spots on which to sit), a water pump, logs, a cart, a windmill, and walkways that stop and start without meaning. With its brown and gray windlight setting, it evokes fall or perhaps more strongly a foregone time and quietude. (If you're using a viewer that doesn't automatically change your windlight settings, look for something similar to what you see here, and click to zoom in on these photos—I'll add more images on my flickr stream.) At the landing point, you'll spot a tip jar and a landmark giver to Cica's delightful shop, where you can peruse and purchase many of her odd little creations. Special thanks should go to Erythro Asimov for contributing the sim on which Little Village has come to be.

Creature from the Black Lagoon

What, you might ask, does The Creature from the Black Lagoon have to do with virtual reality? Well, it was one of the most famous early 3D/immersive films, dating from 1954, and on LEA11 Livio Oak Korobase pays homage to it with his installation of the same name. In the film, a scientific expedition embarks for the Amazon, intent on finding a "missing link" sort of creature bridging ancient land and sea animals, and, setting out on the little ship Rita, they do: the Creature, or Gill-man. Things go downhill from there for just about everyone, especially the Creature. For Livio, the Creature represents the "metaxy," a term in Greek meaning "between," but which the philosopher Eric Voegelin decided had been used in a special context by Plato in the Symposium to mean a sort of mysterious middle ground or reality. (Livio provides more detail in his installation notes, and if you're seriously curious you can dig around for more information about metaxy online.)

Unless you choose to dwell on the heavier philosophical orientation, you're likely to experience the installation more visually (hop on a rocket for a ride, if you wish), and it's not only an homage to The Creature from the Black Lagoon but also to other films. Around the sim you'll spot the iconic moon and rocket from Georges Méliès's 1902 masterpiece Le voyage dans la lune, movie posters from Invasion of the Saucer-Men, Mothra, The Invisible Ray and other sci-fi classics, and King Kong himself. And of course there's the Creature and his environment. In one enclosed space, you'll find the Creature's bedroom: There he lies, dreaming of the girl who proves to be his fatal attraction—and there's another room that Livio at first told me was a dining room, but then thought to perhaps let it be a library. ("The Creature is a good boy, he reads a lot of books," he remarked.) Head into the room adorned with Giotto ("Because he was famous for talking with animals," adds Livio), and you can watch excerpts from several classic films. You'll also spot the Rita and other references. (Eventually the houses of cards might be modified to fall down, too, so be careful around them!)

Aspettando Godot

Now on display at an exhibition space co-sponsored by SperimentArt and Tanalois Art is Daco Monday's Aspettando Godot, inspired by Samuel Beckett's seminal 1953 play Waiting for Godot (originally published in French as En attendant Godot). Set on a 100x100 square meter platform is a large cube, one side removed, the other sides marked with the number 12, reminiscent of a playing die or of a child's alphabet block. In front of the entire structure stand two cranes, red and white, each holding an image of Karl Marx, and within the cube are smaller cubes, each containing a vignette that stylistically evokes surrealism. Below the cranes is an assemblage of clocks and a self-portrait of the artist in wireframe.

I'm very familiar with Waiting for Godot, having seen it many times in multiple languages both in the United States and in Europe, and having known and worked with actors who were personally directed by Beckett. How much of the apparent symbolism here—eyes, cranes, Karl Marx, candles, a gun, cigarettes, the number 12, a fried egg—relates to the play remains a mystery to me, although the use of clocks is an obvious connection. While one can view the shockingly abusive relationship between Pozzo and Lucky, for example, through the lens of class inequality, there's no overt political stance taken by Beckett in the play, so what is it that prompts the use of images of Karl Marx? Perhaps much of the symbolism arises from the surrealist interest in interpreting dreams—this installation looking quite dream-like—reminding us of how Estragon, the poet of the play, tries unsuccessfully to share his dreams with Vladimir. In any case, as a standalone work, Aspettando Godot is worth a visit, and I'd recommend reading a humorous conversation between ush Underwood and Apmel Meerson on Apmel's blog as they explore the build and attempt to deconstruct its meaning.