Nau mai, haere mai, welcome to EyeContact. You are invited to respond to reviews and contribute to discussion by registering to participate.

JH

Bill Viola at the New Dowse

AA
View Discussion

This disturbing confusion between life and death is accentuated by the refracted dappled light which makes a healthy-looking body look bleached of blood and anaemic when submerged.

Wellington

 

Bill Viola
The Messenger

20 February - 4 July 2010

Floating deep within the choppy blue water we can see what looks like the deathly white corpse of a drowned man. Its sunken form is fragmented by the agitated surface of the wind-raked water as it divides up, its separated parts tenuously linked by wobbly ropes of pale fluid flesh. Slowly it seems to elongate and rise up, but then it stabilises, and hesitates - only to gradually descend once more.

Then the stationary jelly-like form has a change of mind: it ascends to the surface, only to reveal a naked man very much alive. We hear him gasping for breath - but not at all stressed - as he bobs up and down in the rippling azure sea, filling his lungs with oxygen. Then with a thin line of bubbles pouring out of one nostril, he gradually descends once more - to hover as a small amoeboid blob about fifteen feet down. The process continues four times before it starts repeating the original cycle once more.

We see this film on a single screen in a very dark room with two benches. The screen is tall and the seats not close - while the image itself is ambiguous, mostly appearing to be belly up, but other times face down and headless. This disturbing confusion between life and death is accentuated by the refracted dappled light which makes a healthy-looking body look bleached of blood and anaemic when submerged.

The lack of panic on the filmed man’s face references a near drowning experience Viola once had as a boy, where he was close to death but obliviously peaceful and serene. A quick-witted uncle fished him out, saving his life.

The Messenger thus oscillates in its mood, for more than calm, the actor has a hint of a twinkle in his eye, yet the tone of his pale submerged body is stridently alarming. There is something oddly subversive about this hypnotically beguiling 1996 work that denies the permanence of death: a mocking mysticism that seems to espouse the concept of reincarnation but which in its very realistic symbolism, I personally find very creepy indeed.

 

Print | Facebook | Twitter | Email

 

Recent Posts by John Hurrell

JH

Glorious Exuberant Hybridity

AUCKLAND ART GALLERY TOI O TAMAKI

Yuki Kihara


Samoa no Uta. A Song About Samoa - Taiheiyo (Pacific) 2023

Samoan siapo (featuring barkcloth from the mulberry tree), textiles, felt, beads, plastic, kimonos: 1750 x 1410 x 250 mm each, installation dimensions variable.

JH

Stichbury Portraits

Lett Thomas

Peter Stichbury

 

Grand Guignol

 

11 June - 11 July 2026

JH
Claude Cahun and Marcel Moore, Untitled (I Am In Training. Don't Kiss Me), 1927. Courtesy of Jersey Heritage Collections

Liberating in Many Senses

GUS FISHER GALLERY

Claude Cahun & Marcel Moore


Studies For a Keepsake


Essay by Lisa Beauchamp and Ruth Minh Ha


29 May - 22 August 2026

JH
Hugo Koha Lindsay, Vowels No.8, Cut and Reordered, 2026, graphite compound and synthetic polymer on cotton duck, 1370 x 1980 mm

Chopping Up (and Rearranging) Indecipherable ‘Drawn’ Language

GOW LANGSFORD GALLERY

Hugo Koha Lindsay

 

Minor Infractions



10 June - 4 July 2026