Exhibition of the week Björk Digital
Somerset House, London WC2 (020-7845 4600, www.somersethouse.org.uk). Until 23 October
The Icelandic singer Björk is known “as much for her visual artistry as her musical prowess”, said Eliza Williams in Creative Review. Since she began her career, in the late 1970s, her music videos have been vehicles for her “distinctive style”, and in recent years she has become a pioneer in the medium of virtual reality (VR), an art form that shows “remarkable potential” but is still in its infancy. With this new exhibition at Somerset House, Björk offers visitors the chance to immerse themselves in the recent VR artworks she has created and commissioned to tie in with Vulnicura – an album she released last year in response to the break-up of her long-term relationship with the American artist Matthew Barney. There are hiccups, but it offers “much to enjoy”. Indeed, as a glimpse of the potential of VR, it is “fascinating”.
“At first you will wonder what the fuss is about,” said Will Hodgkinson in The Times. The first gallery features two panoramic screens showing Björk cavorting in a cave, wearing a “minidress of armour” – but this is “just the beginning of an amazing journey”. The next few rooms are bare, save for a number of VR headsets. As soon as you strap one of them on, you will be “transported”. In the first room, she sings a song called Stonemilker against a barren Icelandic landscape. Multiple versions of Björk surround you: “you may have to spin on your stool to spot her”. In another room, we are sucked into Björk’s mouth, her tongue a “fleshy monstrosity engulfing and overwhelming us”. However, the “most remarkable” episode is the VR accompaniment to her song Quicksand, in which the singer grows, shrinks and “fractures into a million neon pixels”. These “disorientating” but “oddly intimate” experiences have “significant implications for where technology and art can take us from here”.
Bjork’s VR videos are a “dizzying” experiment with cutting-edge technology, said Joe Muggs in The Guardian. But it’s hard to take them entirely seriously. The cumbersome headsets, poor sound and occasionally out-of-focus graphics make the whole thing seem a bit “primitive”: the result is simultaneously “awe-inspiring” and “clunky”. The real problem, said Mark Hudson in The Daily Telegraph, is that despite its “moments of beauty”, the exhibition is ultimately a “glorified album promotion” for which visitors are required to pay for the privilege of taking part. Even if you’re a major fan, you may leave with “the feeling that you’ve been had”.