Of Whales by artist Wu Tsang is a gently calming, fully engrossing exhibit in the heart of the Institute of Contemporary Art– first presented at the Venice Biennale in 2022. On display now until Aug 4th the giant, 40-50ft long screen which displays the piece is in the Paul and Catherine Buttenwieser and Fotene Demoulas Galleries. This major work is premiering in New England in a gallery that is positioned above the Boston Harbor. According to the accompanying museum label, “Of Whales draws upon the region’s rich whaling history and invites audiences to contemplate the depths of the ocean just beyond.” The label continues in its describing Of Whale’s creation process, “created on the Unity gaming platform with XR (extended reality) technologies, the dynamically generated real-time video and sound installation immerses viewers in a lush, dreamy oceanscape for imagination, contemplation, and provocation.”
Museum goers will first encounter a dimly lit hallway where they can already hear notes of saxophone and other whale sounds as they enter the space. A museum label on the wall gives the pertinent details about the artist and the piece. As patrons enter round the corner, they encounter a large, open room with a massive screen on one side displaying the real-time video and multi-channel audio that constitutes Of Whales. Strewn about on the ground are bean bag chairs with benches lining the back walls. As people enter the space they are drawn to sit in the dark and contemplate the video before them in rapt attention. Children, tempted by the open space, take turns running to bean bags. Parents take smiling photos of their children on the bags, illuminated by the screen. Children giggle at the images before them, and one can be heard to ask repeatedly “What is that? What is that?” as their parents tried to shush them.
This immersive installation was conceived by Wu Tsang to be a whale’s first-person perspective of its journey of a dive from the surface to the depths of the ocean, resurfacing again for air every hour. Tsang was born in Worcester MA in 1982 and is a cross-disciplinary artist who “centers hidden histories and marginalized perspectives in her performances, films, and video installations.” She creates video installations, does live performance, and makes narrative and documentary films. In 2022 Tsang “Embarked on an ambitious adaptation of Herman Melville’s Moby-Dick, or, The Whale (1851) reimagining the great American novel through gaming technologies and postcolonial perspectives.” With ever evolving technology, this piece runs the risk of quickly looking dated, but the animation is so well done that it can likely be displayed for years to come.
Tsang put together an extensive team of people to create Of Whales including composers Asma Maroof and Daniel Pineda, there were several people who played instruments for the score including saxophone, horns, clarinet, and contrabass. as well as harp and vocals. There was a creative technologist, a 3D artist, VFX artists, as well as cosmos sequencing, directing, and animation. In addition to sound design, music specialization, and additional integration.
When I first walked into the hall into the gallery space a dozen or so jellyfish illuminate the screen, floating tranquilly. People filter in and out as I find a space on a bench and take a seat. The jellyfish look something like floating coffee filters as the view begins to rise through clouded water with reflections from the surface visible. The screen is full of greens, blues, browns, yellows, and white. The score that had been filling the space with sound suddenly stops as the whale breaches the surface. There was the staticky sound of waves crashing against the whale’s body. Seagull cries could be heard as blue sky with yellow, white, and gray clouds becoming visible. The whale looks down at the roiling, white-capped waves. There is a moment of tranquility and peace as the whale and viewer watch the waves, then both notice a storm cloud in the distance. The cloud grows closer, and the waves appear to churn more frantically.
The whale turns toward the ocean and slowly sinks beneath a crashing wave. The water appears green, and the music starts back once the whale is submerged.. A plaintive saxophone solo starts to play. Blue and white jellyfish appear on the screen. It is here that I note the artist’s attention to detail as the final wave crashes over the whale. The jellyfish music is languid and playful with occasional clarinet parts. The whale looks again to the surface and sees blue, green, and yellow billows in the water with hints of reflections from the surface. Purple specks float upward indicating air bubbles. As the music gets more playful, more jellyfish and air bubbles appear. There are several different kinds of jellyfish. The coffee-filter jellyfish, and translucent jellyfish with hair like tentacles. Some jellyfish have purple, electric tentacles, and swirls inside of their bodies. The jellyfish float in all different directions, some seemingly float upside down. Some of them flutter open and closed, propelling themselves forward.
Occasional loud vibrations emanate from the contrabass, shaking the entire place. Sinking further into the depths the screen darkens and little pinpoints of light slowly appear, filling the space. It appears as the night sky with countless dots of light in the blackness. Suddenly, a black hole appears surrounded by orbiting light that swirls around the hole as horns flutter excitedly and cymbals chime. The light begins to fragment in its swirl pattern as the rumbling intensifies. It looks like the screen contains the sun during a solar storm. The black hole fills up the center of the screen and grows brighter as the hole takes over the center of the screen. Sparks of light and smoke appear and gentle saxophone playing returns. It’s reminiscent of sparklers on the 4th of July.
Meanwhile, the room where we are watching this engrossing performance slowly empties, then fills again. There are cloud-like blue, gray, and purple swirls that somewhat mirror what was seen on the surface. They shrink down until they are 4 vertical lines on the screen. The lines converge, then split, converge, then split again. Suddenly they multiply sending infinite green, purple, white, and blue lines scattered across the screen in a pattern that evokes an Andy Goldsworthy sculpture. The lines expand and contract, always leaving a hole at the center, dancing across the screen. Eventually the lines shrink into individual specks of light. Once more the screen looks like a starry sky. In a striking image, the silhouettes of whales move through the stars, moving them as they swim through. The saxophone and contrabassoon rumble as the whales speak to one another.
The lights shrink once more and converge into a slit of light with techno-inspired sounds emanating from the speakers. The light explodes into red and orange smoke with a bit of a turquoise circle at the center. The smoke fills the screen and the music pulses dissonantly. The screen begins to darken on the edges and the jellyfish appear once again. The video has cycled through its hour-long performance.
The gallery is a quiet respite from the stimulation of the museum. Tsang has accomplished something remarkable with her piece, the ability to suspend time and encourage viewers to consider life from another being’s perspective for an entire hour. No words were spoken over the speakers during this time, yet it felt like a conversation had been exchanged. Hopefully, people walk away with some understanding of what it is like to be a whale, regardless of whether or not they have read Moby-Dick.
