Friday, May 26th saw the opening of Invisible Cities: the Future in the Present Overflows at the Artsville Galleries and Community, operated and curated by Frank Atisso. The work of Debora Kaz, the exhibition is a further instalment of her Invisible Cities series, which I first encountered in August 2022 when Dido Haas hosted Invisible Cities: Fighting Women at her Nitroglobus Roof Gallery (and which is reviewed here).
With Invisible Cities: The Future in the Present Overflows, Debora once again tackles a societal issue and the lasting effect it can have on the lives of those subjected to it: violence, in all its forms, visible and invisible; physical and mental / moral.
In this exhibition, the idea is to suggest parallels between past, present and future of lived stories where violence is present since childhood. To bring out the need to talk about these stories, to heal, survive and protect. Violence as an instrument of power … brings with it disorders and dependencies, fragilities that need support, affection and respect. [This is] An exhibition to put you in a place less critical and more solidarity.
– Debora Kaz, introducing Invisible Cities: The Future in the Present Overflows
However, before getting into things, there are a couple of points to note up front. The first is that it should be viewed using both the local environment settings (World → Environment → Use Shared Environment) and with Advanced Lighting Model (ALM) enabled (Preferences → Graphics → make sure Advanced Lighting Model is checked); Shadows do not need to be enabled as well, so flipping ALM on (if you usually have it disabled) should not impact viewer performance.
The second is that the installation is multi-level, the three levels linked by a teleport system. This takes the form of an atom-like structure. Right-clicking on it will sit you and display a list of numbered destination options. While it is not implied by the ordering or within the introduction, I would perhaps suggest that in starting a tour, you first use the teleport to visit the elements labelled Past 1 through Past 6. These will deliver you to the uppermost elements of the installation, representing childhood and the past. Within each is a father / daughter combination, each with what appears to be a duality of purpose. At first, they might seem to simply represent a parent / child relationship – out walking, holding hands, a loving pat on the head, the gestures of nurturing care.
But look again, particularly at the likes Past 2, Past 6 and Past 1; note the body language of the child, the way the adult’s arm grips wrist or upper arm: these suggest something less than loving and closer to restraint, control, subjugation. Now take the hand resting on the child’s shoulder and the apparent head-pat; are these actually gentle gestures of love, or might they also be further suggestions of restraint and subjugation aimed at the child?
Thus, within these six dioramas is manifested the idea of violence present in childhood, the lances extending from these bubbles to the lower levels representing the way such violence can literally spear every aspects of a life exposed to it from that point on.
Between them, the mid and lower levels of the installation offer reflections (so to speak) of the present and future of a life spent in the receipt / fear of violence, with the lower level offering a series of rooms in a house which can either be reached via the teleport system or simply explored on foot once within them.
The house and its contents is a poignant tour-de-force of a life riven by fear – rational or otherwise – resulting from the persistent pressure of both physical and mental violence. It is a metaphor for both solitary comfort a home can offer those so afflicted – and the prison it can be become, where fears can still haunt and the world beyond the windows seem full of threats.
Within it, the images reflect the fear – the flight reaction – under which those affected by prolonged violence of deed and word find themselves almost constantly feeling; the figures reflect the confusion, the sense of self-blame and guilt they feel for allowing the violence they suffered and the fear they are now living with and their self-perceived weakness in being unable to cope within a world which too often tells them much the same.
The victim is trapped within a cycle of violence that is almost impossible to get out of. The mental damage, the fragility, the feelings of impotence cause paralysis, guilt and frustration. And [while] while all the help in the world might be useless, [by] letting the victim know that she can count on someone may be the only hope for life. All together we can care and protect – and most of all, love.
– Debora Kaz, introducing Invisible Cities: The Future in the Present Overflows
Invisible Cities: The Future in the Present Overflows might not be the easiest installation to grasp or feel comfortable with; but that’s the point. This is a challenge to all of us living in a world increasingly riven by attitudes, outlooks and beliefs that are increasingly polarising and driven by the need to “other” those who refused to adhere to ideals and morals that are – frankly – immoral, and to foster violence upon them in the process, that perhaps we all should endeavour to rise above such actions and reach out, love and nurture our children and those around us because they are different, and that pain, ostracization and brutality of action and word should have no place in a civilised society.
SLurl Details
- Invisible Cities: The Future in the Present Overflows, Artsville (Caribbean Ocean, rated Moderate)
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