A visit to the valley of the uncanny
Jun. 27th, 2010 11:45 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
stephbgHusband and I betook ourselves to the art gallery of WA to see the Patricia Piccinini exhibition of super-realistic creature models. Much skin, many wrinkles, a variety of orifices, stray teeth, scattered hair, and the odd freckle.
I should perhaps refer to the official blurb:
Created using a combination of materials such as silicone, fibreglass and human hair, Piccinini’s sculptures are familiar yet fantastical in their depiction of possible future species and their interaction with human beings. Often confronting yet endearingly vulnerable, her sculptures give form to her fascination with the relationship between the ‘natural’ and the ‘artificial’ while asserting the power of social relationships, love and communication. Piccinini’s work is fundamentally about the human condition, despite the quasi-human appearance of her sculptures. The artist sees them as ‘beautiful rather than grotesque, miraculous rather than freakish’.
It was a classic illustration of the valley of the uncanny, that depiction of reality that's almost but ever so disturbingly Not Quite Right. The works that were most alien were the most comforting; kind of gross and overtly biological, but clearly alien. No probs. The very creepiest were the hyper-realistic kids. I had no problem with the depiction of the children snuggling up to icky wrinkly things, but the kids were just Wrong Wrong Wrong! This led to an interesting perceptual problem: I couldn't tell if the child models were breathing or not.
It's a trivial bit of FX to put some kind of inflation device in a model to simulate the rise and fall of ribs and abdomen. In two of the models which featured child figures lying down I was sure I spotted movement--and I looked really hard--but Husband did not. In general I'd vote for me over Husband in this type of observation; I've had a lot more practice at staring at things. But in this case I'd be prepared to admit my perceptions were off because I really *wanted* to see those children breathe. They were so damn realistic that if they weren't breathing they were dead, and no-one wants to go there. They *must* have been breathing.^ I literally couldn't trust my eyes.
So, high marks for Art.
On a side note and also a mark against my powers of observation, we came across an old jazz colleague of Husband's, to the tune of uncountable (hundreds?) of gigs together*. He was out busking with his saxophone in his wheelchair. The wheelchair wasn't a surprise - he'd had a variety of health problems over the years, and I'd seen him use the chair before, but he actually looked healthier than I'd seen him in ages. As we chatted he exclaimed "I've lost weight!" and slapped his midsection. I thought he looked much the same.
Then he wagged the stump of his leg at me. I had failed to notice that the man had had a well-above-knee-height leg amputation. It obviously did him good. He couldn't use his spare leg to get up to the Cultural Centre because the lifts were out of order. The joys of Perth accessibility. He wriggled it again cheerfully; it was good for business.
Later an eeewww warning for an overheard conversation from three young men walking behind us. They appeared to be extolling the virtues of the Library of WA. That's nice, I thought, the youth of today in pursuit of knowledge. "Yeah," said one "It's great! It's full of hot wet study pussy."
*headdesk*
Nice one lads. I didn't know they lets cats into the library. I'm sure Pumpkin would enjoy the political history section.
And one last thing: I don't like to drive through Northbridge, particularly in the company of dozens of derranged drivers operating under the delusion that somewhere they'd find a street park. There are no parking spaces people: drive on. No, don't attempt that turn, you'll never make it. And what's with the pedestrians lacking an appreciation for their own mortality?
*grumble*
Leg hurts :-( Stop-start driving is not good for it. On the bright side, I got a lot of therapeutic yelling in.
No, one more thing: Can someone finish Perth already?
(^) It's just occurred to me that I spent months watching BB breathe, and not breathing was pretty much his COD. I might have some issues there.
(*) I don't know the words but I could hum it.
I should perhaps refer to the official blurb:
Created using a combination of materials such as silicone, fibreglass and human hair, Piccinini’s sculptures are familiar yet fantastical in their depiction of possible future species and their interaction with human beings. Often confronting yet endearingly vulnerable, her sculptures give form to her fascination with the relationship between the ‘natural’ and the ‘artificial’ while asserting the power of social relationships, love and communication. Piccinini’s work is fundamentally about the human condition, despite the quasi-human appearance of her sculptures. The artist sees them as ‘beautiful rather than grotesque, miraculous rather than freakish’.
It was a classic illustration of the valley of the uncanny, that depiction of reality that's almost but ever so disturbingly Not Quite Right. The works that were most alien were the most comforting; kind of gross and overtly biological, but clearly alien. No probs. The very creepiest were the hyper-realistic kids. I had no problem with the depiction of the children snuggling up to icky wrinkly things, but the kids were just Wrong Wrong Wrong! This led to an interesting perceptual problem: I couldn't tell if the child models were breathing or not.
It's a trivial bit of FX to put some kind of inflation device in a model to simulate the rise and fall of ribs and abdomen. In two of the models which featured child figures lying down I was sure I spotted movement--and I looked really hard--but Husband did not. In general I'd vote for me over Husband in this type of observation; I've had a lot more practice at staring at things. But in this case I'd be prepared to admit my perceptions were off because I really *wanted* to see those children breathe. They were so damn realistic that if they weren't breathing they were dead, and no-one wants to go there. They *must* have been breathing.^ I literally couldn't trust my eyes.
So, high marks for Art.
On a side note and also a mark against my powers of observation, we came across an old jazz colleague of Husband's, to the tune of uncountable (hundreds?) of gigs together*. He was out busking with his saxophone in his wheelchair. The wheelchair wasn't a surprise - he'd had a variety of health problems over the years, and I'd seen him use the chair before, but he actually looked healthier than I'd seen him in ages. As we chatted he exclaimed "I've lost weight!" and slapped his midsection. I thought he looked much the same.
Then he wagged the stump of his leg at me. I had failed to notice that the man had had a well-above-knee-height leg amputation. It obviously did him good. He couldn't use his spare leg to get up to the Cultural Centre because the lifts were out of order. The joys of Perth accessibility. He wriggled it again cheerfully; it was good for business.
Later an eeewww warning for an overheard conversation from three young men walking behind us. They appeared to be extolling the virtues of the Library of WA. That's nice, I thought, the youth of today in pursuit of knowledge. "Yeah," said one "It's great! It's full of hot wet study pussy."
*headdesk*
Nice one lads. I didn't know they lets cats into the library. I'm sure Pumpkin would enjoy the political history section.
And one last thing: I don't like to drive through Northbridge, particularly in the company of dozens of derranged drivers operating under the delusion that somewhere they'd find a street park. There are no parking spaces people: drive on. No, don't attempt that turn, you'll never make it. And what's with the pedestrians lacking an appreciation for their own mortality?
*grumble*
Leg hurts :-( Stop-start driving is not good for it. On the bright side, I got a lot of therapeutic yelling in.
No, one more thing: Can someone finish Perth already?
(^) It's just occurred to me that I spent months watching BB breathe, and not breathing was pretty much his COD. I might have some issues there.
(*) I don't know the words but I could hum it.
