Whenever I hear Chris Burden’s name, my ears prick up.
He’s an artist who, to my mind at least, never fails to be interesting through his engaging ideas and fresh angles on life.
Nearly seven years ago, Locus+ asked me to make high resolution scans of two sketches made by Chris, detailing their thoughts and intentions for the fantastic collaboration, Ghost Ship.
If you have a moment, it’s well worth taking a look at this project. As Locus+ describe:
“Commissioned to coincide with the Tall Ships Race, 2005, Ghost Ship involved the construction and development of a crewless, self-navigating sailing boat, which undertook its maiden voyage between Fair Isle, Scotland and Newcastle upon Tyne. Audiences were able to track the boat’s progress via a live, daily updated website.”
With the kind permission of Locus+, I’ve unearthed the sketches from my hard drives for you to see here:
On hearing of Burden’s latest piece, I was once again all ears and for good reason. Currently installed at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art, his sculpture ticks so many boxes for me on so many levels!
“It’s a classic piece of German expressionist cinema reimagined as a complex piece of installation art — or the best ski-electrics set ever, depending on your perspective.
“Artist Chris Burden has built a model city based on Fritz Lang’s classic 1927 film Metropolis that features over 1000 toys cars soaring through its metallic skyscrapers at speeds of up to 230mph. Rarely has a moody dystopia and a critique of capitalism been such fun.”
Here is the piece for your delectation, all captured beautifully via the medium of the moving image…
The light show was beginning to fade already but it still looked sensational as it receded. I managed to capture these images while the performance played out:
Gentle scenes from the Holy Island causeway as we arrived...
Vertical shafts of light began to appear once more...
...and the sky appeared to fold and crease like fabric above the glow of Berwick upon Tweed.
In all honesty, the intensity of green captured by my camera surprised me. However, it seemed to match up with the photographs of others.
When watching this beautiful show, I didn’t see green, I saw a bluey-silvery-grey. I thought that reciprocity failure might have come into play, so I tried some very short exposures.
Yes, the images were very under-exposed but the green colour still prevailed. Even the ‘quick and dirty’ capture made at ISO 3200 (the image at the top of this post) immediately showed the Aurora-green piercing through the urban haze.
It seems that more intense displays further north, in and around locations such as Tromsø, literally drench the surroundings in a glorious green light.
Thankfully, at times, we were able to see the green for ourselves during pinpricks of higher intensity.
Indeed, as we were arriving, I’ve already mentioned the great slabs of green light standing tall like huge, futuristic, architectural pillars in the sky.
So, this sparked a further spine-tingling question in my mind: When the intensity levels of the Aurora are reduced further South, why is that we observe a bluey-silvery-grey colour, yet we point a digital camera at the Aurora and the intense green prevails?
Is the camera able to render information that we cannot perceive at these lower intensities? I’m sure there will be answers to this but I simply enjoyed pondering them while standing in that icy cold theatre.
I expect Professor Brian Cox would know the answer. If you know, feel free to enlighten us by leaving a comment in the box at the end of this post!
And so, the curtain gradually fell on the performance. The graceful, pulsing light faded away yet still lingered, maintaining a hold on us and making it very difficult to set off home.
The performance draws to a close with one last needle of brilliant light.
And let’s not forget the beautiful sky to the South, so dense that Orion (often obvious at this time of year) is almost lost among its neighbours:
Looking South, the stunning Northumberland night sky with Orion standing tall in the centre of the image.
Some say that viewing the Aurora Borealis is life-changing.
Would I agree? Yes, without a doubt.
I haven’t been able to shake the experiences of last night from my mind, not that I’ve wanted to.
Furthermore, it’s taken me most of the day in grabbed moments here and there to attempt to put those experiences into words.
I’m still not sure that I’ve succeeded.
As I put my boys to bed this evening, I peered North from the window once more. Nothing.
The Aurora Borealis was gone for the moment but I shall never look at the sky in the same way again, day or night.
Keen followers of this blog and my Twitter feed will know that I am very keen on the video clip below, the Aurora Borealis and Australis as seen from the International Space Station.
It seems appropriate to sign off from this post by leaving you with this beautiful footage…