30. IX–12. XII 2011
Hobusepea Gallery.
According to the laws of physics known to man, creating a perpetuum mobile is impossible. The quality of energy perpetually depreciates, the machine runs down and friction occurs. Even though the laws of thermodynamics do not allow for a closed system capable of generating endless energy, through the centuries people have remained optimistic. The United States Patent Office has even had to sanction a clause, saying that without proof of a properly working model, no such machine will be given a patent. Jass Kaselaan’s utopian installation “Valgus on meie jõud” (“Light Is Our Strength”) plays around with this idea of a perpetuum mobile––the artist has built a chimera of such a machine in Hobusepea Gallery.
On the first floor, a strange generator-machine appears to produce the endless amount of light needed to keep a rose in a cage growing; the lower floor of the gallery seems to have gobbled down huge black spheres like robust cast iron boilers in factories that appear to be producing an unending supply of energy. These impressive consummate spheres spawn dark bundles of electrical cords, while grumbling and humming menacingly. The light producing device as well as the massive spheroids that resemble mines or submarines belong to the domain of retro sci-fi. The spectator is faced with mysterious constructions, perplexing and powerful machines––more powerful than men––engaged in some awe-inspiring process. The small chamber-like space of the gallery is skilfully put to use and the installation extremely well integrated.
Grand-scale effects are a favourite of Jass Kaselaan. His “eternal” topics and titles give off an impression of delightful boyish sincerity mixed with a touch of irony. Kaselaan’s work presents large full-colour figures such as death, travelling souls, light, crosses, angels and power. In one of the exhibition catalogues Kaselaan explains, “My main means of expression are space and sound. I am not ashamed to use simple and entertaining solutions such as loud noises, movement and large volumes.”
When it comes to entertainment, Kaselaan never lets us down––his exhibition is undoubtedly physically and visually impressive, and also formally fresh and enjoyable. Kaselaan pays attention to what the audience sees or experiences. The message from the artist, however, remains somewhat concealed––the theatrical side does not create any new dimensions; so ultimately, the light generating machine and the perpetuum mobile seem to produce more of an illustrative effect. It feels as if these objects are stage props for a play about to take place; there is no potential for progress or evolution in the exhibition itself. Regardless of the machine’s humming, everything, the whole set-up appears to be frozen. Is that what the artist was actually striving for? The rose that the machine provides the light for is made of plastic and the entire model would hardly convince the US patent office, so what is Kaselaan trying to convince us of?
Here, the artist leaves his enthusiastic audience in a tight corner longing for something. Perhaps the artist’s ideas should have been articulated in more detail in order to avoid the danger of interpreting the exhibition as an exemplary illustration of the idea of a perpetuum mobile only slightly tinged with irony––this over-sized machine is simply working to generate light for a single flower. It is a good old idea––a mighty mechanism used to produce one minute artefact and sustain one diminutive unit.
Yet, there is this unavoidable expectation of something “real” evoking a more realistic image of an alternative source of energy that could benefit everyone equally and not be monopolized. A real “scientific achievement”, a machine to cause anxiety among those who actually possess our energy resources, but which requires an element of the “impossible”. The exhibition could have worked on more levels if a risk had been taken when presenting some of its elements; for example, if the rose had grown and withered in real time. This would have provided the opportunity to develop interpretations on themes like biology and the machine, linear and cyclical (life, regarding one single creature, is linear and final, while in a broader sense life could seem like an enormously complicated and complex perpetuum mobile, even though it is not a closed system, and it draws its energy from the inorganic world). Of course, the plastic rose created its own web of meanings and it seems plausible that the illustrative and picturesque perpetuum mobile was in fact meant as a smirk at superficial and inapplicable solutions. However, the smirk also remains fairly superficial.
Naturally, we would all be extremely pleased if the artist created a real-life unstoppable generator of energy. But for that to occur, another exhibition, another artist and different points of emphasis would be necessary. For example, in their project “Supergas” (1997 –…), Danish art collective Superflex, along with engineers, tried to transform bio waste into a gas that could be used to prepare food (enough energy for one gas lamp was provided). The perpetuum mobile as a concept allows for all kinds of interpretations and several other contemporary artists have also tried to bring it into the white cube of the gallery. Nina Canell’s weird and poetic “Perpetuum mobile” (2010) consisted of several litres of water, a bucket, a hydrophone, a mist-machine and a bag of cement––the wash-basin and bag of cement lay on the floor, the water, activated by vibrating sounds turned into a gentle mist that slowly and undetectably hardened the age-old building material beside it. Mona Hatoum’s sinister power-circuit installation “Homebound” (2000) also comes to mind–– the artist connected metal kitchen utensils into a circuit and adjusted an amplifier to such a level that, in Hatoum’s opinion, produced a haunting and frightening sound. Energy circulates everywhere, creates its own networks; it does not appear or disappear; it also takes different forms and transmits good as well as bad thoughts.
It is possible that Kaselaan’s perpetuum mobile was intended rather as a theatrical metaphor from the very beginning, and in addition to poking fun at the simplified understanding of energy issues it does the same with the naive belief in science (and also admires it?) as it extends beyond current scientific knowledge, which nowadays is quite cautious in its claims. But even as Kaselaan’s grim installation with its cheerful title repeats familiar messages, our current situation must be considered a part of the work and these well-known ideas should be used to interpret new situations. After all, we must remember that the artist values “entertaining” monumentality in form and in sound, and sees it as a significant dimension in art. And this straightforward play with scale is exactly where his true strength lies.
Kirke Kangro is a sculptor, installation artist and curator. She works as the head of the department of installation and sculpture at the Estonian Academy of Arts.