Zeitz MOCAA
19.02 - 28.08.2022
When moving through an exhibition we all expect to absorb, engage and digest visual content. When entering each floor of the current Tracey Rose retrospective at the Zeitz MOCAA, the space was not just filled visually but sonically. Music, noise or some kind of sound fills each room and greets you even before you begin digesting what you see with your eyes. In each room I was greeted with a sense of space and ambiance that set the tone for what to expect but most impactful were the sounds that drew me in. The sonic experience moved me through the space, pulling me through the exhibition rooms, bringing me to these visually stimulating pieces by almost calling me towards them.
The exhibition as a whole consists of artwork made of a multitude of mediums including photography, print, drawings, and sculpture but what personally stuck out to me most was the film and video content and the power of how it functioned at the entrance to each floor and how viewers engaged with the content.
Tracey Rose, Shooting Down Babylon, installation view, 2022. Courtesy of Zeitz MOCAA. Photograph by Dillon Marsh.
Walking into the first floor of the exhibition, the colours were very stark, black grey-blue, with an uninterpretable video playing in the first room. We hear what sounds like fighting taking place, heavy breathing, and grunting with loud thudding noises coming from the art piece called T.K.O., 2000. The sounds were very disturbing and created an extremely uncomfortable feeling. The weight of the sound is carried over into the other space and thus also influences how the art that is on display in those sections are experienced.
Sound is prevalent on each floor. It is very intentional; the volume is perfectly set so that it leads the viewer through the exhibition. Many times, the sound is almost alarming but just enough to spark an interest that carries the viewer through the space. In the bigger spaces, we experience multiple pull points like this attracting viewers and then releasing them. The sounds and the visuals build up and tell the story, then soften, almost to tell the viewers that it’s okay to move on to the next space.
Tracey Rose, GAT TV, 2012. Courtesy of Zeitz MOCAA. Photograph by Dillon Marsh.
The white noise on level two comes from an installation of a large television called GAT TV (2012) that draws you into the room. When you look at the screen you see a television inside television, inside a television. This works so well with the white noise that pulls you in but is less of a focal point. In this instance, the sound acts as the first point that pulls you in even before you’ve engaged visually. The power of film content and sound is that it encourages the viewers to engage for longer than just a few seconds, it encourages you to sit and watch and in doing so to connect with the content.
Moving on from this room we pass some beautiful stills, and we are greeted by another installation, this time making use of stills and sound. Finally, we move into another space where the video leads us to the exit. I think it’s a beautiful play on space to direct the viewer through the exhibition using sound in a manner to draw people in to hold their attention and softly direct their flow through the space.
The next floor was intense. I was greeted with a red velvet curtain and then stepped into a room with red brush marks over all the walls in the room. Shooting Down Babylon (The art of war) (2016) is the name of the installation and it pulls the viewer in, making sure they enter the space at the front door. There was sound filtering into the space through the other room. The walls looked like the residue of a violent act. The centre of the room houses a robot-like structure with multiple screens showing visuals that contradict the colour and sounds of the surrounding space. I was standing there listening to screams while looking at videos that were of a soft and organic nature depicted in such a beautiful way in a room that looked like it had been brushed in blood.
Tracey Rose, Shooting Down Babylon, installation view. Courtesy of Zeitz MOCAA. Photograph by Dillon Marsh.
I am then drawn towards the room with sounds of violence. This room hosted the artwork titled Whoremoans: An uncivil memoir of a rough ride (2017). There is graphic imagery of a woman, Cleopatra being tied up and assaulted by her jailor. The room is dark with all the light only coming from the screen. Everyone that entered the space stood still to engage with this very hard-to-watch piece of art, giving it their full attention. The shock of the violence almost forces you to watch and not look away. When more light-hearted upbeat music starts to play it almost releases the viewers. It acts like an interlude, or an ad break, or like the ending to the movie.
Throughout the exhibition the sound acted as a guide through the rooms, softly directing me and as soon as it felt like there was nothing more to see I could hear the next place I should go to. The curation of the exhibition is as much an art piece as the work on show because together they beautifully allow us to move through a large and weighty body of work by South African artist Tracey Rose.
