Florian Hecker, 'A script for a machine synthesis'. Sonic Acts 2015
The first performance of Florian Hecker’s “A script for a machine synthesis” is fully booked. There is a long queue at the Stedelijk desk. An impatient audience waits, expectant.
Doors open. A clinical set up. A floor full of grey cushions. A booklet is handed out and small silver envelopes are on the floor. A pink light is projected on the wall. In the centre, a small ice cube sits on the floor – visible only to the people in the front. Three narrow, imposing white speakers face the audience. The artist is absent.
The sound starts: a monotonous voice-over reading a text. A metallic pulse sound flowing through the room. Noise moves from speaker to speaker. Fragments of text with a sound texture and high pitched squeals. I am trying to find my sense of place. Am I inside a machine? Or am I just a receiver in a space? I am listening carefully. I catch a few sentences: ¨pink is not made of ice¨, ¨pink is a chromatic demon¨, ¨pink is the ghost in the ice cube¨. Now the sound moves to the ceiling. I am looking for an access point, but I can´t find one. I look to the booklet. It is impeccably produced but impossible to read. The font is too small, the texts too condensed. It is an impenetrable document. I am lost. What has the color pink got to do with it all?
The female voice is Charlotte Rampling. Why? Why these words? I scan Reza Negarastani´s introduction for clues. Where is the sensory experience I was hoping for? Is it me? Reza Nagerastani’s introductory text is complex and confusing. Am I intellectually inadequate for this piece?
The puddle of water has grown around the ice cube. I look around. The audience is beginning to look uncomfortable. They have been sitting on thin cushions for almost an hour. Constantly shuffling. Some are opening the silver envelopes and play with the round scented plastic discs inside. Others escape via their smartphones. Suddenly, someone throws a paper airplane, made from the yellow Stedelijk programme. An outburst of laughter cracks the serious atmosphere. And then someone dares to leave, navigating around the melting ice cube. He breaks the ice. I understand.
Florian Hecker is making his point: This is a human creation that leaves you untouched. A block of melting ice. I feel so cold.
