sphere of influence

When first entering the gallery space at the NSW Art Gallery to see Jon Rose’s latest installation, I initially felt intimidated. A giant 3-metre ball lay dormant in the middle of a silent room. I knew that the audience was supposed to ‘play ball’ – the large object embodied interactive technology so that any movement of it triggered sound and imagery. But what was the etiquette? And how was I supposed to figure out the rules?

I think part of my intimidation was a result of the creators – Jon Rose and Robin Fox – standing off to the side as observers of our actions. A strange role reversal: the audience – manipulator of sounds; the creators – the silent voyeurs…

It wasn’t long before initial hesitations vanished, and my friends and I became absorbed in throwing, sliding, spinning, bouncing and touching the giant ball – testing its strength, exploring different movements, figuring out how the sounds were being manipulated, wondering about its breaking point…

The room was transformed into a surreal kid’s playground with cries of ‘Over here, over here – throw it to me!’

Yet as the ball moved back and forth across the room, intricate layers of agonising sounds and images swirled around us. Screeching, whimpering, heavy breathing, and moaning entwined with other vocal samples of harmonised latin text, ritualistic bass drum beats and violin/electronic samples that scraped, squealed and trembled. Images of performance artist Aku Kadogo were projected onto the walls of the gallery, her bloodied, abused naked body huddled shrunken into what looked like a human ball. Ball, sound and womyn suffering as one - a juxtaposition that was shocking and raw. And to drive the point even further, projected text completed the installation: 'Destroy', 'Wrath', 'What nourishes me, destroys me'.

For me, bringing the ball to a point of stasis was powerful. This action brought the entire room to the edge of silence. Blank screens. Empty speakers. Calmness. Peace. A sense of control… And when the sounds and imagery grew from this silence, not only was I much more focussed on their nuances – the layers of sound, the juxtaposition of image and sound – but I was brought back to an awareness that I was actually creating the sounds/imagery by moving the ball… the violence and brutality of the sounds/images penetrating the room was a direct result of my action. I was responsible…

Jon Rose’s message was blatant: we are responsible for our actions – the earth is in our hands; its survival depends on us. And, as one of the projected texts exclaimed: ‘There is no free lunch’. The simplicity of such a message enhanced the installation; combined with such sophisticated technology it made for a powerful piece of art.

A performance – where two dancers dressed in black manipulated the ball – followed the installation. The audience crowded around the edge of the room while the dancers ran, tumbled, and danced with the ball – pushing, heaving, bouncing, throwing, hurling, caressing, punching, sliding, balancing, spinning… And as before, manipulation of the ball triggered grotesque, aggressive, and in-your-face sound/images.

Even back in the role of passive observer, the emotional intensity was unrelenting. In some ways, I found this experience more shocking than the installation because my senses weren’t distracted by the physicality of moving the ball: this time, there was no escaping the violence of the sounds and imagery. Even Hollis Taylor’s haunting violin melody, performed live from a corner of the gallery space towards the end of the performance, served only to intensify the atmosphere: for me, the melody symbolised a yearning plea from mother earth (presumably who Kadogo represented?) to begin taking more responsibility...

But of course, the ball speaks other stories as well...