C106
review
London: Breda Breban at Saint Augustine's Tower and 99
Hoxton Street
The face
on the vivid fuchsia-pink invite is that of Saint Theresa
in ecstasy - the ambiguous symbol of both female pleasure
and subordination, immortalised in Bernini's well known
sculpture. The place is the otherworldly medieval clocktower
tucked away in Hackney; it is dedicated to Saint Augustine,
the greatest of the Latin Fathers, one of the most eminent
Doctors of the Church, and the author of the famous Confessions.
What is the supposed connection between these iconic figures
of Western mysticism that Touchdown - the
ambitious four-level staging of Breda Beban's new photographic
and film works - so indiscreetly hints at? This connection
remains slightly unresolved, and it is this sense of irresolution
that marks the whole viewing experience.
Take the
central piece, the enchanting five-screen video installation:
close-up on five women's faces approaching, reaching and
immediately after orgasm. Beban declares her aim is to
identify "states of being," and make visible "the unseen
images of passion and spiritual human consciousness."
Beban's beautiful heroines surely bring us closer to one
very particular 'state of being', delicately revealing
the overwhelming intensity of a very intimate moment.
By the careful visual treatment they also transcend its
immediate sexual content: the simple real-time shots,
the immaculate whiteness of the pillows, the ghost-like
glow of luminescent screens in the dusty gloaming of the
stonewalled chamber. Elegant sonic backdrop - the insistent
wave of low-level hum that briefly bursts into the shocking
roar of a wind instrument - intensifies the unearthliness
of the scene and accentuates its spiritual rather than
corporeal substance. In that sense, these modern-day Saint
Theresas undoubtedly differ from, let's say, KR Buxey's
more visceral explorations of female sexuality, but also
from the irritating pomposity of Bill Viola's 'metaphysical'
affectations presently monopolising London's market of
passions.
However,
the women in Touchdown are masturbating - they
are the producers and sole masters of their own pleasure
- and, for all their delicate spirituality, when placing
them in the semi-sacred, highly symbolic space of predominantly
male authority, the hackneyed 'provocation' of this fact
cannot but resonate with tired postfeminist agendas. The
problem is, one stays under the uncomfortable impression
this wasn't exactly what the artist originally
wanted.
 |
Breda
Beban: Touchdown, 2003;
transparency
on lightbox, 80 x 120cm;courtesy
the artist
|
The other
parts of Touchdown are affected by a similar collision
between original intentions and resulting effects; by
the imbalance between disparate references, their subsequent
articulation, and especially their co-ordination across
the sections of Beban's elaborate and impeccably executed
installation. The set of lightboxes installed on the ground
floor shows the unspectacular vistas of typical urban
landscapes - the paths created by the repeated playing
of football. Although this can be appreciated as a refreshing
example of one quotidian and movingly profound human passion,
I would hardly consider it a convincing image of some
particular 'spiritual consciousness'. Another set of lightboxes,
on the second floor, depicting the eerie sublimity and
administrative desolation of airport chapels, connects
much better with the ecstatic ladies on the floor below.
Their emotional impact is increased by simple yet effective
placing (on the floor, leaned against walls) and by the
amplified ticking of the original tower clock located
in the same room.
 |
|
Breda
Beban: Touchdown
(Path Belgrade),
2003,
transparency
on lightbox, 80 x 120cm;
courtesy the artist
|
At Peer, a
small gallery on Hoxton Street, Beban is concurrently
showing Little films to cry to, a set of
six low-fi, homemade movies. Little films... are
Beban at her best: gentle, passionate and tragic; seductive,
melancholic and achingly personal; beyond and away from
all, more or less obvious, ideological and metaphysical
agendas. Every film takes its name from the popular song
that features in it unmistakably embodying intense emotion
around which the images revolve. Drawing almost exclusively
on elements of the artist's personal history, and often
using natural or built environment to mirror intense emotional
states, the films are imbued with agonies of displacement
and loss, but also lightened up by the miracle of life's
everyday wonders. Like the bittersweet postcards from
the world in which both the burnt-down village and single
water drop - dripping off a housing-estate balcony, somewhere
- bear equal importance and emotional intensity. Don't
feel ashamed if, upon receiving the card, you catch yourself
shedding a tear or two.
Sinisa
Mitrovic is a writer, independent curator and editor
of Prelom - Journal for Contemporary Art & Theory
from Belgrade.
Breda Beban:
Touchdown, Saint Augustine's Tower, Mare
Street, Hackney, London; Little films to cry to,
99 Hoxton Street, London
