Human Existence in the Projected Tableaus of Bill Viola

By Ilaria Bevan

Since its inception in the 1980s, video art has constantly pushed the boundaries between fiction and reality and often engages with themes of existence, life and death. In an age where electronic video, sound and images permeate every aspect of modern-day life and help individuals connect with one another, it is easy to forget how isolating technology can be. Bill Viola’s video installation Ocean Without a Shore (2007), which premiered at the 52nd Venice Biennale inside the Church of the Oratorio San Gallo, is a striking example of how video has the power to both unite and isolate its viewers through the exploration of human existence.

Bill Viola, still from Ocean Without a Shore, 2007, Video/sound installation, continuous loop, https://www.pafa.org/museum/collection/item/ocean-without-shore.

The video sequence, composed of three large video monitors, describes a single figure on each screen emerging from a fuzzy monochromatic background walking into a clearer technicolour space, only then to turn around and then return to the darkness. Each figure, rendered in slow motion, appears on the screens in succession for roughly three to four minutes at a time in a continuous loop. The subjects, twenty-four in total, are dressed in colourful clothing, and appear to be from a diverse mix of ages, ethnicities and genders. Viola’s intention would have been to reflect the wide range of spectators expected to attend the Venice Biennale, and perhaps also recall images of their deceased loved ones.

The position of the three monitors embedded within the three altars present inside the walls of the church provides the backdrop for this poignant engagement with mortality. Altars, in Christianity, are regarded as a site in which the dead reside and as a place from which the living may draw spiritual strength or connect with these deceased life forces. Viola, in this instance, draws upon the inextricable relationship between altars and the idea of resurrection in order to present a notion of the dead temporarily coming back to our world.

To convey this idea further, Viola utilised two unique technical innovations: a mirror prism and a water wall.

Designed by PACE Film Company specifically for this project, the mirror prism is a special optical device that merges the image created by a 1970s/80s analogue surveillance camera with that produced by the latest state-of-the-art high definition camera. The superimposing of these images onto one another results in the formation of two worlds - the monochromatic and the technicolour, or the past and the present. In doing so, Viola presents to the spectator a vision of the underworld and their living reality that is only separated by a fragile, yet powerful, wall of water.

This water wall, measuring ten feet wide and eight feet from the ground, acts as a glass-like veil in which the figure must pass through to reach their desired space. To create this effect, Viola poured a trough of water over a specially designed laser cut razor edge that is positioned parallel to the floor. This precise alignment, according to Viola, takes three days to set up. When arranged correctly, the water maintains its even structure when it falls to the ground, thus producing the illusion of a transparent thin sheet of glass that separates the two spheres. The only disturbance to this otherwise seamless image is the crashing sound of the water as it hits the ground. However, this sound of the water reverberating around the cool interior of the church would certainly only amplify the other-worldly ambience.

A near-death experience at age six, falling into a late in upstate New York would provide the initial impetus behind Viola’s extensive use of water in many of his other notable works including The Deluge (2002), Tristan’s Ascension (2005) and The Dreamers (2013). In an interview for Tate, Viola stated that the water wall expresses how “the borderline between life and death is actually not a hard wall, it’s not to be opened with a lock and key, it's actually very fragile, very tenuous”. Consequently, Viola pointedly conveys that our contemporary idea of death as being a permanent state is not so concrete as originally thought.

Bill Viola, video still from The Deluge, 2002. Five-part video/sound installation, colour video projection with four channel sound, 36 min, https://news.artnet.com/art-world/bill-viola-florence-old-masters-892193.

Bill Viola, video still from Tristan’s Ascension, 2005. Video/sound installation, 6 x 3m plasma screen, https://www.artsy.net/artwork/bill-viola-tristans-ascension-the-sound-of-a-mountain-under-a-waterfall.

Bill Viola, detail video still from The Dreamers, 2013. Video/Sound Installation, seven channels of color High-Definition video on seven 65′′ plasma displays mounted vertically on wall in darkened room; four channels stereo sound, https://academyartmuseum.org/exhibition/bill-viola-the-dreamers/.

Returning to the figures themselves, whilst they all differ in appearance, they are united in their emotions. As they pass through the watery threshold into the living world, the figures are distressed and confused by this experience, unable to comprehend the sensations produced by the water crashing onto their now physical bodies, or the sight of the spectators before them. It seems as if the figures are overwhelmed by their presence in the physical world and realise their separation from those still living, leading them to return to the darkness from which they originated. Viola, in intentionally withholding direction, forces the actors to produce a raw image of this lonely experience and draw inspiration from their own associations with death, rather than overthinking emotions.

Interestingly one figure, a young girl, seen as a shadow, only puts her hand through the water, ultimately deciding not to break through the wall. Why she does not follow the sequence of the other figures is unknown... perhaps she was not able, or not interested enough, to temporarily cross into the mortal realm.

Furthermore, the title of the installation provides additional insight into Viola’s considered interest in mortality and the fragile threshold between life and death. This writing by the Andalusian Sufi mystic, Ibn ‘Arabî (1165-1240), supplies Viola with the title for his installation: ‘The Self is an ocean without a shore. Gazing upon it has no beginning or end, in this world or the next’. Despite being widely considered as one of the greatest Muslim philosophers who greatly impacted Islamic thought, Ibn ‘Arabî’s writings were relatively unknown in the West until recent years. What the text suggests is that the soul, or one’s consciousness, is like an ocean that is not confined by the presence of land - it is never-ending, it is vast. It can travel and transform between different worlds and exist through different periods of time as the self is unfaltering. Viola’s figures visualise this concept in their constant emerging and returning between worlds and will continue to do so for as long as time exists.

However, whilst this image appears to be rather romantic, it is also very isolating. It leaves one to question how the self might interact and connect with other selves, or how one’s life might begin or end if there are no boundaries to exist in. But perhaps, it is rather appropriate in our current situation...

For over a year now life has been put on pause. Everyone has had to isolate themselves from their friends and family. However, humanity has not ceased to exist, rather the opposite. Although people are unable to connect in the way they once did, there is a newfound sense of global unity that transcends these physical barriers. Consequently, one continues to grow and change, like an ocean without a shore. This to me is what Viola’s pieces signify - we are alone, but together.

Bibliography

Baker, Alex. “Bill Viola’s ‘Ocean Without a Shore’.”, National Gallery of Victoria, Melbourne. Published January 29, 2014. Accessed March 26, 2021. https://www.ngv.vic.gov.au/essay/bill-violas-ocean-without-a-shore/#:~:text=Bill%20Vio la's%20Ocean%20without%20a,the%20dead%20in%20our%20lives'.

Galansino, Arturo, and Kira Perov. Bill Viola Electronic Renaissance. Florence: Fondazione Palazzo Strozzi in collaboration with Bill Viola Studio, 2017.

Hanhardt, John G., ed. Kira Perov. Bill Viola. London: Thames & Hudson, 2015.
Ibn Arabi, quoted in David Anfam, Bill Viola: Ocean Without a Shore (exh. catalogue), 52nd

Venice Biennale, collateral event, 2007, n.p.

Tate. “Bill Viola: Venice Biennale 2007,” Tateshots - 29 July 2007. Accessed March 25, 2021. https://www.tate.org.uk/art/artists/bill-viola-2333/bill-viola-venice-biennale-2007.