Philippe Parreno transforms Leeum into otherworldly synesthetic orchestra
French artist’s ‘VOICES’ filled with hovering fish balloons, AI-generated language
In a windowed hall bathed in the orange glow of sunset, fish balloons drift through the air as if in an invisible aquarium. Below these hovering aquatic creatures, rows of muddy snowmen melt away in real time. Occasionally, the already-surreal spectacle is interrupted by an eerie mix of human voices and AI-generated murmurs echoing from all directions.
For the last three decades, French artist Philippe Parreno’s name has been synonymous with out-of-this-world theatrical shows that redefine the concept of what an art exhibition can and should be.
“VOICES,” mounted at the Leeum Museum of Art in central Seoul, is certainly no exception when it comes to pushing such boundaries. Staged as the artist’s largest comprehensive survey in Asia to date, the exhibition brings together over 40 installations and cinematic works, including his ambitiously complex pieces created specifically for the show.
Nearly every corner of the museum’s sprawling building — designed by three star architects Jean Nouvel, Rem Koolhaas and Mario Botta — has become the stage for Parreno’s otherworldly imagination: a self-playing piano covered by a blanket of falling snowflakes; a literal wall aimlessly wandering around the ground gallery; an ash-covered snowdrift; and over 200 ghostly drawings of fireflies brought to life on translucent LED screens.
At the heart of the artist’s synesthetic orchestration lies his latest mechanical brainchild, “Membrane.”
Installed on the outdoor deck, this 13.6-meter tower is fitted with 42 sensors that constantly gather environmental data — such as ambient temperature, humidity, noise levels, wind speed, air pollution and the Earth’s natural vibrations.
The real-time data about Seoul’s climate and urban noise is then merged with the human voice of Korean actor Bae Doona by artificial intelligence to generate a new spoken language, “∂A.”
This uncanny speech reverberating throughout the exhibition halls is what activates Parreno’s pieces inside the museum, quite literally, serving as an invisible puppet master.
It causes Parreno’s interior lamps and signature spectral marquees to move and flicker in synchrony with the urban rhythm outside. It lends voice to AnnLee, a melancholic Japanese manga character appearing on a digital screen, as she bemoans her ambiguous existence trapped in the virtual world.
“Throughout the years, for each exhibition I had, I would install sensors outside the museum space that would inform the way the show will run — (whether they be) microphones or a little weather station,” the artist explained during a recent press preview at the Leeum.
Armed with such ambient data collected from the real world, instead of preprogrammed algorithms, he composes, edits and reconfigures his installations that can best resonate with the institution’s particular architectural layout.
This process is what has shaped the color and form of each exhibition hall at the Leeum — an orange-tinted room populated by floating fish and melting snowmen; a blue room hosting AnnLee’s virtual presence; a cinematic black box, a “ballroom-like” ground gallery where flickering marquees and moving walls “dance together”; and a lobby projecting a waterfront landscape that constantly regenerates itself.
The linkage between the outside world and the museum’s interior is integral to Parreno’s effort to puncture the “bubble” that characterizes the privileged, insulated status of contemporary art institutions.
“I came to realize that museums are always closed (off). They always turn their backs to the outside world,” he said. “They filter the (natural) light because they show expensive works. They artificially control the temperature. It’s a bubble, in a way. And I’ve always wanted to try to open the bubble a little bit.”
“Membrane,” born from this mission, represents his latest endeavor to humanize the sensors after being prompted by one question: “What if all these sensors come together and produce a sort of a character?”
“This fictional character, living inside the tower, is blind, doesn’t see anything, but it feels so much — even a tiny difference in temperature and atmosphere, the magnetic field and the Earth’s movement,” he added. “These signals and data transform into a language. The creature slowly starts to speak through the voice of actor Bae.”
A sense of incompleteness is always present in Parreno’s shows. Nothing seems permanent or final. His pieces meander aimlessly, both literally and figuratively, without exhibiting a discernible pattern. Visitors can easily get lost in this directionless environment. And this is a deliberate choice on the artist’s part.
“I built this world and it will live at the Leeum for a couple of months, but eventually, it will disappear and fade away. There’s nothing permanent,” he noted.
“I always feel that whatever I do is never completed, and I decided to go with it. When I produce a work, I like to keep changing it, because I change all the time. I still feel connected to what I produce as an extension of my own body. And I’m a drifter for sure.”
“VOICES” runs through July 7 at the Leeum Museum of Art.
“I built this world and it will live at the Leeum for a couple of months, but eventually, it will disappear and fade away. There’s nothing permanent. ”