Synaesthesia @ Mona

MONA – Hobart, 3 & 4 November 2012

Review by Josephine Giles

Held at Hobart’s hottest tourist attraction – The Museum of Old and New Art (Mona) – Synaesthesia was billed as a “blend of sonic, visual, tactile and olfactory stimuli” intended to induce in the audience an experience akin to the condition known as synaesthesia. Over two days the award winning museum was closed to the public as 300 paying guests from around the world were treated to a smorgasbord of performances from world class musicians, punctuated by indulgence in extravagant spreads of Tasmanian food and wine.

“Synaesthesia” describes the phenomenon where a person experiences idiosyncratic multi-sensory responses to stimuli – most commonly colours and feelings associated with music, particular letters, or words such as the days of the week. Many musicians and visual artists are synaesthetic, and what was in the past considered to be a symptom of mental illness is now accepted as a variation of perception that perhaps all of us are born with but lose within the first few years of childhood.

Apparently synaesthetic composers Scriabin and Rimsky-Korsakoff fought constantly over their definition of the F sharp chord: one experienced it as violet and the other as orange. This story was one of many told by synaeasthetic musician Andrew Legg who, with a group of artist-technologists, performed three keyboard improvisations while his body and brain were wired up to computers. Projections of real-time digital imaging of Legg’s vital signs ranged from detailed but prosaic colourful graphs to a beautiful, trippy, multicoloured lava-lamp-like animation. Unfortunately, Legg’s work Syn[a]: Clavier a Lumiere, was the closest we came all weekend to experiencing the synaesthete’s inner eye.

Synaesthesia started promisingly, with Co-Creative Director Lyndon Terracini inviting the audience to respond spontaneously to the music: we were free to enter and leave performances at will, or to clap and cheer between movements. Over two days, performances would occur in a number of spaces in the gallery, with body-painted nude maidens acting as our guides. From a balcony the haunting strains of a work for amplified cello by Peter Sculthorpe filled the red-lit sandstone wall of the cavernous Void, as the silhouette of solo cellist Michael Goldschlager was projected onto another wall. The journey had begun.

The program was designed with performances often happening simultaneously, but with repeats over the weekend, so there was ample opportunity to catch most acts. Day one highlights were the unaccompanied TSO chorus in the museum’s internal  stairwell, followed by Calvin Bowman playing organ music by Philip Glass in the Organ Room – a space found behind a secret door, past a wall festooned with a living garden – then the Tasmanian Symphony Orchestra playing Mussorgsky’s Pictures at an Exhibition in the Nolan Room. I was a bit late to the next event – Brian Ritchie playing Hiroshima Circle on the shakuhachi flute – but arrived in time to witness a segment of the massive Anselm Keifer glass sculpture in the Library Gallery come crashing to the ground. That was certainly a surprising and multi-sensory experience!

The evening program was  more casual with shows from Kate Miller-Heidke, cabaret sensation Meow Meow and  jazz from the Tasmanian Improvised Orchestra.

Day two’s absolute standout was a mesmerising, pitch-perfect performance by UK based Tasmanian soprano Alison Bell and the TSO of  synaesthetic composer Ligeti’s  absurdist opera Mysteries of the Macabre. Also enjoyable (as much for the theatrics as the music) was Psychosonata. Composed and performed by piano virtuoso Michael Kieran-Harvey the piece effectively reflected the disordered thoughts of the psychotic.

The weekend finished in the Nolan room with an exquisite rendering of Messiaen’s Quartet for the End of Time, played by Susan Collins (violin), Paul Dean (clarinet), Peter Hill (piano) and Sue-Ellen Paulsen (cello).

As a music festival Synaesthesia was undoubtedly a success but the lighting design, so integral to the artistic concept,  was disappointing. Spaces were rigged with numerous LED lamps, however the lighting state was generally static, of a limited (and often cold) colour palette, and though changes of colour occurred at intervals they did not reflect changing moods or tonality in the music as much as might be expected. Most people I talked with, many of whom had travelled from interstate to attend, were anticipating a much more imaginative, dynamic and interactive visual experience.

What made the weekend worthwhile was the setting and the program. The event was a wonderful a way to experience Mona – for example to lie on the floor of the room which houses Sidney Nolan’s multi-hued 45 metre long Snake, while immersed in sounds of the orchestra; or to wander through the gallery hearing distant music and, in an unusually receptive mode, chance upon previously unnoticed treasures or remembered favourites. When sated by music, I spent time viewing the current temporary exhibition Theatre of the World, which I can wholeheartedly recommend: see if you can find the gas-candle room and experience its simple  breathtaking beauty.

Photo of Cellist Michael Goldschlager;  Credits: MONA / Rémi Chauvin;  Images Courtesy MONA Museum of Old and New Art, Hobart, Tasmania

This review by Josephine Giles was first published on AussieTheatre.com