Vinyl, Terror & Horror
Every city now has a red Hop-On, Hop-Off buses that take tourists to the must-see spots identified on Trip Advisor as the Top Ten. When in Copenhagen, you "must" pay your respects to the Little Mermaid. You must also visit the Rosenborg Castle, a palace-under-glass, which like many European houses of royalty, is evidence that successive generations who occupied this space never held a garage sale. Their accumulated junk is no better than your accumulated junk.
For me, the best part of travel is serendipity. On this trip, I found it at the Den Frie exhibition space for artists. Carmilla Sorensen and Greta Christensen, who have been collaborating for the last 15 years, were at it again. Working under the name The Magic of Vinyl, Terror & Horror, this was their largest exhibition to date. They also do live performances.
Part soundscape, part Rube Goldberg machine, the exhibit unfolded in six rooms, with sounds bleeding from one room to the next. A turntable connected to an array of speakers spun as the audio pickups in the cartridge transmitted the sound of the needle coming in contact with the platter sans record. Thud and scratch, the automated DJ.
In the next room, a clock was embedded in the floor with the metronome swinging, but in a stationary position. A clock? Actually a speaker had been substituted for the timepiece in what otherwise was a grandfather clock. A nod to Dadaism? Who knows, but when the metronome unexpectely began to swing, it was surreal. Did it swing multiple times, or just once?
In the next room, there were a number of seemingly isolated pieces, including my favorite, an album cover that was in a shredder. In another part of the room, album covers of some odd music lined the wall.
The best came next. In a darkened room, a video of six musicians and two singers was projected onto the wall. Sometimes one musician was present. Other times all six were present. The video was an assemblage, with each person in his own vertical space, but the when combined, the spaces created a fragmented whole. In front of the video were a series of speakers. At one point, smoke began to pour out of one of the speakers. Suddenly another slid violently along an overhead track. One speaker had been deconstructed, with wires and the woofer visible in blue light. I looked away for a moment, and when I looked back, the speaker had been re-assembled. There was also a small part of a keyboard, with a video of a hand playing the keys projected onto it.
Along the way, there was a room with a motorcycle, and another with a camping trailer. You could enter the trailer in one room, and walk around the corner, which gave you the opportunity to view the entire camper in another room.
Also on exhibit was an installation entitled The Department of Voids by an artistic duo going by the name Benandsebastian. On entering the room, I thought I was looking at a mirror image of the objects that were displayed in front of me. My question: Where am I? Three other people were in the room with me. We spent a good 15 minutes trying to figure out what it all meant.
I am not sure what any of it means, but both exhibits were a lot of fun to experience. Don't bother looking for the exhibit should you chose to visit Copenhagen. It closes August 19, 2018. Most likely, you will be too late.
When you do go, you'll have to find your own serendipity.
[Click on a photograph to enlarge it]
Inner Dialogue (Magic of Vinyl , Terror & Horror)
Double Spin (Vinyl, Terror & Horror)
Time as Sound
The Magic Of (Vinyl, Terror & Horror)
Elevated Sony Turntable
The Department of Voids (Benandsebastian): Where Am I?