FREE FALL, by Huib Haye van der Werf , 2007

 

When the Austrian priest August Musger invented the slow-motion film camera and filed his patent in 1904, did he stop to think what effect his invention would have on the way things would forever be perceived? Musger had made it possible to slow down the actions of man and his surroundings in order to view them more closely. Man now had the possibility to contemplate exactly his movements and physical deeds, from the exalted position in which every minute detail was slowed down and docile to his gaze. Of course the question remains that with such godlike perception - such a gift of observation - what insight does he gain from that which he sees? What knowledge is won from that which is lethargically projected before him frame by frame?

Over one hundred years later for the occasion of the new location of the Central Information Point (CIP) in the Dutch Lower House of Parliament, Sanja Medic has made use of the technological advancement the years have brought about. Working with a high-speed camera she has realized an artwork that still holds true to Musger’s original invention: the slowing down of perception. Having been made especially for this location and context, however, the artwork not only characterizes the setting and function of the CIP, but also that of the House of Parliament itself.

The work is called FREE FALL and it is a projection onto the wall just above the stairs leading down towards the CIP. This wall is visible to all parliament members and press due to its location just outside the building’s main auditorium. The projection is a recording of white A4 papers that are thrown into the air and subsequently float back down in slow motion. Sometimes they are thrown up fast and with great intensity, sometimes slower. At times they float down together in packs or sometimes just a single sheet of paper alone. It is these differences that make watching the projection fascinating and strangely hypnotizing. When wondering why a gaze can be so fixated on this moving image, one realizes that it is also because there is no sound. Because everyone knows the sound that flying paper makes, the audience ‘imagines’ the sound to accompany the work. This factor is what not only makes the work enrapturing; it also creates an interaction with its audience. This interaction is made complete by the almost childish urge that the work brings about, namely to get a pile of papers and throw them around, a wonderful paradox to the serious and paper flooded environment that is the house of parliament. An urge that is further driven by the seemingly malfunctioning LED information sign running along the underside of the projection, which states brokenly that there are no meetings at this moment. School’s out. Class dismissed.

Aside from having realized an artwork that captivates the viewer in an enigmatic way, she also provides an occasion for interpretation. Perhaps the papers are thrown into the air out of frustration, or perhaps jubilation? Ultimately the value of the work is not limited to its visual and empiric qualities. The content of the work and its conceptual breadth also contains the same subtleness. When one looks closely at the falling papers, every now and then they can clearly read the texts they contain. Newspaper heading such as ’Crisis door Wiegel’ and ‘Kok I’ float by along with pages that clearly resemble notes from meetings but are not legible. The papers that Sanja Medic has chosen for the work are namely inherently linked with the place of parliament in Dutch society and its chaotic recent history. Half of the pages selected are the minutes from debates that have taken place in the Tweede Kamer since 1995 when the architect - Pi de Bruin - finished his renovation of the building. The other half are news articles covering this turbulent period. It is no coincidence that it is this period from which the falling pages are taken. During this period the political landscape of The Netherlands was turned upside down with the sudden exposure to populism, rightwing nationalism, the assassination of Pim Fortuyn and the development towards a less social (more liberal) economy. As a result three cabinets have fallen and after the most recent elections being only half a year ago, the government still seems to be seeking a more balanced course for the future; trying to stop the free fall it has found itself in.

What Sanja Medic offers is therefore not only confrontation with a recent past, but an opportunity for reflection. Surely just as father Musger would have wanted it those who experience this artwork, from any walk of life or political spectrum, can now take the time to think; whether meditating on the image before them or deliberating their views and principles, the artwork makes the most of seeing the world at a slower pace.