by CJ Mahony
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In October 2006 the shed next to my house was set on fire (arson), completely burning out the contents and spreading to the house. A few months later I invited CJ Mahony to make a response to the site - an empty brick shed, with burnt out timber frame door and charred and sooty walls, concrete floor and ceiling. Dark Room was a solo experience. Instructed simply to enter the shed she is faced with a roughly built breeze block wall creating a narrow corridor. If she turns right the corridor ends abruptly with the brick wall at the back of the shed. If she turns left there is a dark corner which turns to the right into an even darker, darkness in which there appears to be no "end". By this time the viewer is in a VERY narrow space, many had to abandon bags or coats at this point. The darkness and smell of soot is getting more intense. Stepping into that darkness, she turns another corner and the corridor extends this time along the full length of the back wall of the shed. She is beginning to understand the dimensions of the space she is walking around. The corridor narrows even more tightly but there is light at the end. She is drawn towards the light, towards the final corner. The end of the corridor turns into a small rectangular space, a breeze block wall faces her, there is a simple tube of light on the floor to the right and the space that she has walked around is sealed by a dusty window. It appears to be a two way mirror - all she can see is her own reflection. She peers closely through the glass - it is only glass, but cannot see into the space she knows is there. Then she becomes aware of a sound, irregular, not mechanical yet sounding mechanical. Intermittent but persistent. Viewers had many different interpretations - it was in fact the sound of a clipper lighter. Then, in order to leave, she has to turn her back on the light and whilst her eyes take their time to adjust, return through the narrow corridor into the darkness and back around to the charred timber framed entrance of the shed. My own response to this work is impossibly personal and affected by my day by day witnessing of CJ's development of it. I was struck by the profound and varied experiences of visitors over the 4 days of the Enter_Unknown Territories Festival*. All extreme ... whether it was fear, disappointment, confusion or excitement. There were two children of about two years old ... one ran in happily ahead of her mother, the other didn't even want to go in whilst being carried. Many conversations about memories of claustrophobic experiences, about the affect of space and light on our expectations and emotions, on the desire for narrative closure, on the interpretation of sounds... *Dark Room in this context offered an ironic (and analogue) take on the fears/tensions of exploration/experimentation with new technologies for artists and audiences. The walls have now been dismantled, the door has been replaced by the council, the shed is beginning to gather onward accretions but Dark Room will remain as an unsettling yet subtly, tender response by an artist whose work continues to mature and vibrantly engage its audiences. Kirsten Lavers |
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selected responses > |
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I was
inside your dark room for longer than I thought I would be, and
then we broke the rule and I went in once with Louise, too. Emotionally,
it was one of the most penetrating art form I had seen since I
saw David Smith's sculptures at Tate Modern some month ago. I
found your work so close to my personal experience of being in
such atmosphere. I was sent back decades and remembered the obscure
places I wasn't allowed to go, but I did. When I was in the dark
room I could not think about anything else but where my disturbed
memory took me. This is a wonder example of what art does to you.
It was a great piece of work, and I sincerely congratulate you
for it. Abbas Hashemi
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Out of
the darkness into the light. Peg Bullen
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When I approached the work and was confronted with the wall
inside the shed, I initially found myself expecting that it
was from wall to wall and was some form of barrier. Was it an
interior without an inside? But my squashed, squeezed path around
and behind the wall led to an entirely different experience.
It was a journey that was not easy to make, claustrophobic,
contained and my rather larger than helpful shoulder bag rubbing
the abrasive surface of the breezeblock |
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A really
strong piece that stays with me... As I go in I'm intrigued by the texture, this rough wall that I first see, then feel as I go into the dark. I'm enjoying the darkness, the sensing with my feet and fingers to find my way round. I come to the back of the shed, not sure if there is any further to go, feeling the wall finer now under my fingers. I round another corner and come into a tiny space that feels safe and comfortable. I am tempted to curl up in the corner. Opposite me I see a pane of glass in a fine wooden frame, behind it the smooth brickwork. I continue to take in the texture, examining it close up until a moment when I suddenly realise that I can see myself in this glass. At this moment, my face seems to retreat away from me in my reflection. Is this a property of the mirroring surface, or my own movement? I try again, approach the glass and again my reflection seems to fall away from me. A third time, I try to stay as still as I can, I detect a little movement still. I'm left unsure of who or what is moving. I am intrigued by this space of encounter with myself, sense it almost as a mirror of the process of individuation, emerging from a feeling of being undifferentiated from the tactile world around me to a recognition of my presence in this space. Rachel Gomme |
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