From Pitchfork’s review of Anohni’s Hopelessness (2016):
‘What has been the price of my protection? This spring at New York’s Whitney Museum, the artist Laura Poitras—best known for her 2014 film about the NSA whistleblower Edward Snowden, Citizenfour—offered a harrowing answer. Within her multimedia exhibition Astro Noise was a piece called Bed Down Location. It invited viewers to lay on a platform in the dark, assuming what in yoga is referred to as “corpse pose.” The installation lulled you with doomy static and dispassionate male voices. The night skies of Somalia, Pakistan, and Yemen were projected at the ceiling like a planetarium. The idea was to stare at them—the celestial expanses of countries in which the U.S. has launched drone warfare—and think. To imagine human lives reduced to coordinates on a grid, as if flesh and blood were part of an exercise in a math textbook. To imagine balls of fire falling onto us. To imagine death. A New Yorker might be struck by just how many stars those skies contained. Struck by how they look like sheets of glitter. By the beauty of an ornamented mustard-yellow building under our big Moon. By how nature could look like an oil painting. By how you want to be there. The emotion of Poitras’ work did not just show the cost of our sense of protection—irrevocably, the cost was felt.’
A friend – a videographer – sent this to me and posed the question what if the bed was a viewing platform, the ceiling a screen?