Published on: De School
Reflecting about light always means to also reflect about darkness. The two states function as antipodes which develop their full potential and force when occurring as a duality. To quote Job who certainly knows what he is talking about just remember “that moment the morning light hits those hallways” after a night in pitch black darkness. Or, outside the club, picture all the Blue hours you experienced in any part of the world, in any context, with your lover, friend or family: days that turn into night, nights that turn into day and that special moment in between, the sweet spot where darkness blends into light or vice versa.
Light in the technological context of a club often meant and still means moving heads, disco balls, lasers and, as the cumulation of it all, LEDs in various shapes and forms. Elaborate and eye-pleasing setups that steal the show and give the dancer something to indulge in other than the music. No spot should be left unilluminated. An approach that prevents the dancer of being thrown back upon him or herself. Because, in fact, you do not need a lot of light to make things visible. The lack of brightness puts the ears, body and consequently the mind in a state of alertness. Simultaneously, inner frontiers are broken down, if there is no need to worry about outer influences. Darkness brings us closer to each other.
Due to a reduction of used machinery, the chosen few elements also gain impact. They keep their seductive potential if used seldom. While we are talking about it, have you seen the red laser that has been installed while I-F was doing his thing during Het Weekend? From time to time it zapped through the low-ceilinged room, adding a pinch of rave to the monochrome scenery. And then you get swallowed by the fog that is meandering through the space. It forms a duet with the light. The smoke materializes itself as something tactile, a shell that whispers: you are safe here, you do not need anything else.
The new work DIAPOSITIVE 1.2 by Children of the Light, visual residents of De School and therefore responsible for all the light you (don’t) see in the club and in the restaurant is a physical manifestation of the above stated reflections. It is darkness, it is light and it is the contrasts in between: a perfectly shaped circle (that tricks you into thinking, it may be an ellipsis) hanging from the ceiling of the vast room slowly turning around its own axis. White light is pulsing on both sides, giving the fog that is lapping around the steel frame the characteristics of a veil. A veil or a portal: into another dimension, another mindset. The temptation arises to step forward and see if the outstretched hand will reappear on the other side. “During the opening, people wanted to get sucked into the vortex”, Children of the Light say. They also say: “Our work is defined by constant evolution. De School is work in progress and so is DIAPOSITIVE.” The number 1.2 in the work’s title implies the ongoing negotiation of the artistic process. “The next step will be adding color to it, though working monochrome so far has been something of a specialty. That’s what we do.” On the sunny terrace in front of Café DS, the conversation then again steers towards the contrasts that define the former school building and their work in it: “People’s opinions about the light plan in the club have been on both ends of the love and hate spectrum, but that is a good thing. If something creates tension, it means people make the effort to really reflect about it.”