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Eija-Liisa Ahtila: Talo (The House)
Gallery 186
Talo (The House), a 2002 film installation by Finnish artist Eija-Liisa Ahtila, is finally getting its Chicago debut at the Art Institute of Chicago seven years after the museum purchased it. Lisa Dorin, Curator at the Art Institute of Chicago and organizer of the installation, explained the delayed unveiling of the work, remarking that, “It is only since the opening of the Modern Wing in the Spring of 2009, through the dedication of the Donna and Howard Stone Gallery for Film, Video and New Media, that we have been able to accommodate an installation of this scale and complexity.” Dorin is pleased about the work coming out of storage and also that the museum now has a venue to show its collection of 90 works of film and video- all to take their turn in gallery 186 of the new Modern Wing. Dorin confirmed The House as one of the museum’s exceptional acquisitions calling it “Powerful, both in its content and sensory experience.” She also highlighted the sense of urgency and timing in seeing the work now, saying, “We’re in the process of rotating through the collection, as well as featuring new acquisitions, so that once it comes down this fall, we are not likely to reinstall Ahtila’s The House again in the very near future.” The House is a portrayal of one woman’s journey through personal psychosis based on interviews Ahtila conducted with people who have negotiated mental illness, but who have ultimately come to terms with their condition. The House has appeal for the museum sophisticate as well as those with a more casual interest in contemporary art, and it has something for those who are drawn to the inner world of mental illness and the meaning and depth of those afflicted. Some of the appeal is due to the high production values in Talo, which are closer to traditional cinema than the typical museum video installations of the past. Ahtila shot The House on Super16 film, then digitalized the work on three screens that form a semi-circle to embrace the viewer in a 14 minute loop of action shots, cutaways, and close-ups, all viewed and experienced simultaneously. Ahtila captures and reveals the circular, yet fractured, pattern of the psychosis of the protagonist (Elisa) through the constant and simultaneous movement flowing between the three panels. At the same time she utilizes the poetic overtones and synchronicities of great triptychs, traditionally found in the repertoire of painting. The appeal is also driven by subject matter as the private trials of Elisa are conjoined with pristine spruce and pines, rain and sunlight, and a cottage that evokes essences of Ingmar Bergman’s form. Never, though, is there a moment of discomfort for the viewer— rather there is great ease. It is as though something liquid and sensitive is buffering the content. Ahtila has noted that she grew up watching Bergman films on Finnish T.V., and one can see Ahtila’ s nod to the ebb and flow of a troubled character in pristine environs in works like Bergman’s Through a Glass Darkly. Talo, however, is decidedly not Bergmanesque in perspective. Instead of a voyeuristic witness of the afflicted in a full array of emotional states, Talo places us directly into both the lucid mindset and afflicted mental state of Elisa without melodrama. As we view this surround, even as we listen to the narrative of Elisa’s existence and intellectual inventory, a neutral, documentary style pervades as the narration speaks to us directly with the calm of an objective outsider. The only voice in the film is Elisa’s own narration—a voice that stays coherent and steady. While Elisa’s monologue expresses that her awareness is disintegrating, the narration itself does not loose lucidity: “Everything is now simultaneous. Things don’t have causes. Things that occur no longer shed light on the past. Time is random and spaces have become overlapping. No place is just one anymore.” The neutral face and methodical voice-over of the character ironically magnifies the significance of every movement and flow and produces an emotional response in the viewer. In one of the most inspired scenes, Elisa rises and floats above the ground, then slowly and peacefully flies through the thick conifers leading to her house. Elisa moves through lush foliage, grasps the eaves, then her legs sink to the ground, as if in water. The multiple screens give us Elisa’s own point of view, simultaneously with alternate perspectives and angles, and we feel transported, airborne. The integrity of this sensation is enhanced by the rich sounds of brushing through pine needles, the wind, and birds without musical score, an admirable sparseness used in the whole film. Ahtila wisely keeps suspensions of Elisa’s reality strictly limited, allowing space and time for ordinary activities of walking, driving, and sewing, preventing the work from becoming reduced to Dali-esque surrealism. Thus, The House adds up to an empathetic new media work that, in its beauty and innovation as high art, validates those with mental affliction without melodrama. Beyond that, the work is emblematic of the collective human will and perception and, ultimately, an affirmation of our existence, even in our own flawed and challenged condition. The Art Institute acquired Ahtila’s work jointly with the Los Angeles Museum of Contemporary Art seven years ago, and it created media stir and buzz from other showings after the debut in 2002 at documenta 11 Kassel, Germany. In the decade since Ahtila made The House, she has risen to the status of international art stardom. Ahtila has since had an admirable roster of new film installations, which further confirms the Institute’s wisdom in acquiring The House, a limited edition work (5 of 5) and arguably still one of the artist’s best works. Chrissie Iles, Curator at the Whitney Museum of American Art, New York, credits Ahtila as part of the vanguard movement of bringing the “black box of cinema into the white box of the museum.” Museums such as the Art Institute of Chicago are recognizing the growing phenomena of new media works and are making room for them. --Stephen Knudsen Stephen Knudsen is Professor at the Savannah College of Art and Design and contributing critic and feature writer for several additional publications such as the SECAC Review and Professional Artist Magazine. He is also a co-developer of Image Comparison Aesthetics for http://www.theartstory.org/ His website is http://www.steveknudsen.com |
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