![]() ![]() It’s also seemingly the only installation where you have no real agency – you’re pulled from the physical bounds of the facility into a series of abstract visualisations. The longest installation is a mix between traditional and transcendent, a more or less straightforward medley of Radiohead tracks ‘How to Disappear Completely’ / ‘Pyramid Song’ / ‘You And Whose Army’ with some visual accompaniment. I was thankful for these spaces as a place to rest and recuperate after some of the more intensive, synesthesic ones – much like I’m often thankful to just sit in a dark room and watch something after meandering through a museum building all day. There are more traditional and believable installations too, of course, the simplest being the miniature screening room where you can just stop and watch some of Radiohead’s live performances from the era next to a curious little demon thing. Some create the odd portal to other impossible realms, which give you that feeling of genuinely being lost without assuming that it’s probably just some lighting trick. Some orchestrate personal, visual hallucinations and sync them with audio cues to make the perfect impact. You’ll encounter installations in rooms with no floor, where objects shoot out into the endless void above and below you, and you can succumb to intense feelings of vertigo from relative safety. The other aspect is in the major centrepieces, themed around a variety of Kid A and Amnesiac tracks. They keep the space from feeling desolate, but their quietly monstrous presence somehow keeps you arrested, cautious, and on your best behaviour as you look at the space – that real gallery feeling, come to think of it. The first aspect of this are the eerie figures that populate the exhibition, both as patrons and workers. But obviously, the benefit of it being a virtual exhibition is the ability to do the impossible, and there’s a smattering of the unreal in the Radiohead Kid A Mnesia Exhibition – just enough to make it seem unnerving and magical when it happens, and not enough for it to become humdrum, at least in the hour or so you’ll likely spend with it. There are QR codes dotted throughout that you can scan to bring up a map, and a gift store on your phone. It’s labyrinthine in a way that this abandoned… missile silo(?) would feasibly be. ![]() Hallways lead to larger exhibition spaces, which lead to more hallways, which lead to more exhibition spaces. The architecture, lighting, cabling, and pipes mark some of the practical necessities of this facility in the middle of nowhere. What’s interesting is that it’s a very grounded and believable space at first. Familiar Radiohead tracks and other bits of sound art fade in and out as you move through. ![]() Other pieces are carved into concrete, projected onto surfaces, and sometimes they’re large pieces on canvas, set very formally against stark walls like you would expect in an art gallery. Some of it is slapdash, pasted on ‘street style’. Bits and pieces of Donwoods’ and Yorke’s art adorn the walls of the hallways you move through. If I didn’t have an appreciation for Radiohead’s artistic details before, I certainly have a bit more now.īeginning in a stark, black and white forest that echoes the mountains found on the cover of Kid A, you’re enticed into an ominous industrial bunker that reveals itself to be absolutely enormous. That visual art and those motifs feature very heavily in the Kid A Mnesia Exhibition, with artist Stanley Donwood and Radiohead frontman Thom Yorke collaborating quite closely together – along with producer Nigel Godrich, video artist Sean Evans, set designer Christine Jones, and published by the team at Epic Games. Frameborder="0" allow="accelerometer autoplay clipboard-write encrypted-media gyroscope picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen> ![]()
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. ArchivesCategories |