The current exhibit at the MIT List Visual Arts Center is not a typical conceptual art exhibit. An exhibit focusing on sound seems to have no place in an art gallery where the focus is obviously and dutifully ocular; yet "Sounding the Subject: Selections from the Pamela and Richard Kramlich Collection and the New Art Trust" forces visitors to explore the connection between the auditory and the visual.
Pamela and Richard Kramlich are known for their collection of contemporary media. The five video pieces in this exhibit include works by Eija-Liisa Ahtila, Stan Douglas, David Hammons, Nam June Paik, and Pipilotti Rist. Each artist explores and manipulates sound in his or her own way - some more effectively than others.
As is the case with most conceptual art, the intended meaning and purpose may not be easily understood at first glance, or in this case, both first glance and first listen. Fortunately, the wall texts do a fine job of explaining what is otherwise lost in confusion and sensory overload.
The opening piece is a short film by Pipilotti Rist titled "I'm Not The Girl Who Misses Much" (1986). Sound familiar? It should, as it is a line from The Beatles' song "Happiness is a Warm Gun." A blurred woman appears on screen before a blank background, in a similar fashion to the instructional videos one might find at American Apparel. It is indeed an interesting short, the tape is fast-forwarded and her voice becomes a distorted squeaky idiosyncrasy while she sings the title phrase of the piece over and over again. Eventually John's sweet voice takes over and the visuals transition to poignant stills and brief moments of seduction. Unfortunately, the viewer is left unsatisfied; the song never quite reaches the chorus and John's and the woman's voice lull into an echo.
Rist's video is a startling beginning to this show, not only due to the high-pitched sounds, but also to the fuzzy visual accompaniment. The follow up piece is possibly Nam June Paik's most well known work, "TV Buddha" (1989). This stoic Buddha statue has meditated in several settings under varying conditions since it's first appearance at a New York opening of Paik's work. Buddha sits diligently in the center of the room as a camera simultaneously films his contemplation and plays it back on a television monitor. Although this piece is an intriguing comment on the present-past nature of films, it seems ill placed amongst the rest of the exhibit, which is more dynamic and engaging.
Easily the most salient piece in this show is Eija-Liisa Ahtila's "The House/Talo" (2002). This projection film clearly demonstrates the focus of the collection. Three large screens fill the space, each offering a different visual perspective of the same story. The female protagonist describes the destabilization of her life caused by various sounds and noises in her world.
Ahtila's work analyzes how sound can foster a sense of place and how distant sounds from other locations can disrupt the world we occupy. For example, the sounds of a harbor heard in a waterfront restaurant can cause a strange duality of being in more than one environment at a time. In this world, the cow that is mooing on the television program breaks the barrier of the screen and walks into the living room, its calls following the narrator into the kitchen, where it does not belong. When sounds and their sources become displaced, the sense of self of the woman in the film is also compromised.
Despite the emphasized audio component of this art exhibit, it successfully tests and probes the relationship of what is seen and what is heard, how viewers respond to visual and aural cues and how these senses enhance the viewer's understanding of the surroundings. Though alternative and a bit eccentric, the validity of the intention is not lost on overly complex and conceptualized ideas, as is sometimes the case with experimental media. Individually these particular works might not resonate with viewers, but as a whole they offer up unique takes on what happens when we can see what we can't hear or when we can hear what we can't see.
