From 010101, the SFMOMA website to accompany the exhibit:
NEW URBAN SPACES SERIES #4: COMPACT FOREST PROPOSAL (2001)
Generative sound installation with mixed media using recorded sound. Courtesy of the artist.
In New Urban Spaces Series #4: Compact Forest Proposal, Eno has divided an original piece of music into independent layers of sound that are then emitted from 10 different CD players. Since the sources are not synchronized, the music constantly recombines in different patterns. Compact Forest Proposal exists somewhere between sound and sculpture, a multidimensional musical and visual experience of sensory perception, tailored to the properties of the room.
It was my great pleasure to witness this installation in person; I was in San Francisco to do a reading/signing at Borderlands Books, and fortunately I got to SFMOMA before the exhibit on the intersection of art and technology ended July 8th. Already giddy with modernity, having spent a few hours sucking in all the Yves Klein, Paul Klee, and Jasper Johns that I could possibly get, to finally make it to my destination was absolute bliss. The exhibit winds in labyrinthine fashion into the bowels of the museum, and after looking at every single other work in the exhibit, I was good and ready to just give up and accept that I had been mistaken about the scheduling. But no, my intrepid friend Amanda led methere, and we spent a good 45 minutes happily immobile and hypnotized by the setting.
The room is kept quite dark. From the ceiling hang ten strands of yellow-fading white Christmas lights, terminating at the floor in small cones of translucent paper (perhaps a very light version of Tyvek), to give the impression of trees, childlike, how they spend out as they get close to the ground. After a few minutes of relaxing and letting the ambiance sink into me, I noticed two important things -- first, that the music, which seemed to emanate directly from the walls, ceiling, and floor, was provided by eleven seperate CD boomboxes, each playing its own customized CD full of unexpected silences, treated voice, guitar played with an e-bow, and of course, the versatile and haunting piano. Then, that a mysterious male form in a white paper robe stood very, very still in the corner. Amanda and I poked each other apprehensively. "Is he real?" she asked. I, being conversant with mime and stuff, maintained that he was. It took a very good close look to determine the fact of the matter. Apparently, the mannequin came from the Gap.
It is hard to describe the feelings of contentment and peace, but also excitement and curiosity, that comes from spending even a small amount of time in this installation. Even the harsh voices of the people passing in the hall, or even the ones that come in, don't get it, have an argument, and then leave, incorporate themselves into the general sound; the music is alive, and every other living thing influences it. Still, the peeved French family was something else; I wanted to recommend the Melatonin Room, another installation in the next room. There is a level of subconscious vibration that I could suddenly notice, knowing through past experience that the sound of Brian Eno's more abstract music can cause a calming in my brain waves, and the Francophones sniping at each other gave me unpleasant amounts of adrenaline.
I only wish I could have taken photos, but I can't imagine that would go over well. The room is very dark and a flashbulb would only ruin the beauty of the installation, which is all about a difference in perception. It's like most everything Eno does &endash; it has to be experienced in the flesh for true appreciation tohappen. I feel so lucky, like seeing a total solar eclipse.
