Stepping into the Interverse
On Saturday morning, I booked an impromptu ticket to Interiam, an interactive and immersive art exhibition that had been showering my Instagram feed with ads. After a long week of arduous school work, I decided to go alone: this was a treat I wanted to savor myself. The exhibition’s unassuming exterior did not prepare me for the explosion of colors and lights as I stepped inside, where I was greeted by screens displaying futuristic biomorphic shapes made of pixels and particles. The staff welcomed me warmly and led me into a spacious room where I waited for my session to start. As it turns out, I had the whole experience to myself, and this solitude allowed me to fully immerse myself in the exhibition free from distraction.
The experience itself is surreal, futuristic, and meditative: at its start, I am led into a large space encircled on all sides by an elliptical wall. The staff exits, leaving me to explore the space alone. Suddenly, the room transforms into an alternate dimension as projections light up the screens around me. A narrator in the background asks me to relinquish my thoughts and be fully present, as two tunnels appear at either end of the wall, opening into an unknown world.
Then, suddenly, I see myself — or rather, a projection of myself – on the wall. My twin from an alternate dimension. As I wave my arms and run around in circles, the motion detectors on the walls pick up my movement, translating it onto my twin using an interactive projection system. At one point I am water, with each wave of my hand producing ripples that drift through space and collide with each other. Then, I transform into fire, a rumbling silhouette of flames. Heat emanates from my body, and ashes follow my presence. My sense of self merges with this projection, blurring my corporeal sense with a transcendentalist one. That seems to be the intention of the installation — to let the audience play both the omnipotent god and the tiniest speck. I can dictate the flow of the particles on the screen with the wave of a hand, but it also makes me wonder if this power to enact change is inherent within everything; for instance, the waves I have created are no different from ripples produced by a rock hitting the surface of a pond. And the fire bursting from the palm of my hand is no different from the flames burning on a piece of wood — both the wood and I are merely sources of energy for the fire.
The exhibition was deeply immersive; If only the slight differentiation in colors on the wall or the contour lines of the door hadn’t given away traces of the real world, I would have relinquished myself to the art, lost in this train of thought completely. The experience succeeded in creating a deeper connection between myself and the building blocks of the universe: even now I can almost feel the touch of the gentle ripples or burning heat as I trace my hand across the air. When the lights dim, and all that is left is the rumbling white noise of the air conditioner, I find myself staring into space, still savoring the aftertaste as the staff leads me back out to reality.
And that was just the beginning of my experience. Whether it is creating a metaphysical space for meditation or a visceral experience within a volcano, Interiam proves that the fusion of technology and art can provide a wider range of experiences than many traditional artworks. One of my favorite examples of this is the INTERnet, a woven jungle that invites the viewers to climb up, lie down, and otherwise explore the web structure. The neon threads create ethereal, floating patterns in the dark space. There are tunnels to crawl through, platforms like hammocks to rest on, and even pillows to make one's stay more comfortable.
The installation pulled me back to my nostalgic childhood playground, a respite from the expectations of adulthood. Like a little kid, I jumped up and down, shaking off the weights from my shoulder. Lying with a pillow behind my back, I let my mind drift to another world. There was a moment when I wished I could've stayed there forever, nestled between the nets and woven webs.
The rest of the exhibition was equally exciting, but I recall one installation particularly clearly: I was invited to step onto a platform, and in front of me stood a still pool of water with a large LED screen depicting three flower buds. At around my waist height, there was a sphere illuminated with a violet glow that turned out to be rotatable. It reminded me of a fortune teller’s crystal ball. As the ball was turned, it set off vibrations under the water, creating patterns of ripples on the surface reminiscent of plants sprouting. This phenomenon belongs to the study of cymatics, or the way frequencies in vibrations can create complex patterns using fine materials such as water and sand. It was mesmerizing to watch: the water pulsed and breathed, forming streaks across its shiny, metallic surface. Its mirror-like quality allowed it to capture the reflection of the LED screen, which was experiencing similar transformations as the petals on the screen bloomed and contracted back to their cores. An infinite number of petals appeared and disappeared as the flowers folded and unfolded themselves. Some petals had soft, rounded corners; others were sharp and penetrating.
The water surface patterns and the video display exhibit a similar visual language in their ephemeral, ever-changing, and multiplying forms. Moreover, the sphere became the node between my human touch, the dynamic waves of the pond, and the ever-changing flowers behind the digital screen. Like the first immersive experience, this work grants the viewers the power to interact directly with the fundamental workings of nature.
There are moments during Interiam’s exhibitions when we seem to control the elements. And in a way, hasn't humanity always tried to do just that? We exemplify the idea of environmental possibilism: we domesticated and purpose-bred plants and animals, developed vaccines to target viruses, and moved rivers and even mountains to make room for our living spaces.
On the other hand, this installation also suggests the possibility of humans belonging to nature, embodied by the idea of environmental determinism. Throughout my experience in the InterNET, I adapted to the inherent architecture of the net, crawling under and over nets that established the space for me already. Are humans merely experiencing the forces of our environments and living within the confines they set? Water ripples with contact force, and fire burns with fuel. Perhaps, we have become the fundamental forces and the fuel. Are we just a part of this intricate system of nature?
While this visit to Interiam was one of the most unique experiences I’ve had, it is certainly not perfect. Looking at what Interiam’s current exhibition has to offer, I see so much potential in Interiam that hasn’t been fully explored. As an immersive experience, it went above and beyond. As a portal to an alternate universe, an escape from city life, and a sanctuary to release your inner child, it does the job perfectly. But proclaiming it as an "inter-immersive art experience" requires more. This field of interactive art experience is just beginning to gain more traction thanks to improvements in technology, and Interiam is a trailblazer in bringing this field to the public’s eye; nevertheless, great artwork can’t be held up by technical skills alone just like how poems can’t be held up by beautiful word choice alone: when put together, the words should mean something more. In one part of the exhibition, for instance, the audience enters a volcano-like environment, with one corner of the room opening up to a blindingly white space filled with large, protruding geodes. Why is the space situated there? What's the significance, and how does it fit into the larger picture? The geodes' inclusion in the scene neither made rational sense nor was justified by the rest of the experience. Coming from a fine arts background, I believe that artists' choices in a work should serve a purpose. In not explaining these details, the installation left much on the table in its exploration of the connection between humanity and the elements.
All in all, I did love the experience. It's creative, innovative, and pushes the boundaries of what technology can accomplish in art. But for any great work of art, I always believe that the artist should be conscious of their artistic choices, which should be able to withstand the eyes of critics. I hope that Interiam can consider either rearranging the current exhibition or extending some sections, such as the geode room, so that each segment feels more connected to the rest of the exhibition.
Of course, maybe Interiam is good enough as it is now, without these further changes. I am excited, though, about the impact that Interiam could have on the art world; it has the potential to truly be an agent of change that pushes the boundaries of interactive and visual forms to create groundbreaking experiences and usher in a new era of immersive installations. I can’t wait to see what Interiam, or perhaps similar institutions in the future, might bring to the table. Who will be the catalyst of this new era? Who will make the breakthrough? Even though it might not be here quite yet, I can see it looming on the horizon.