Tate Trip: aesthetics and space
First things first, I have never been particularly impressed by virtual reality headsets. More often than not they are clunky and ineffective, making the wearer go cross-eyed and uncomfortable. This, however, was something else entirely.
As soon as I put on the virtual reality headset, a huge smile spread across my face (which I quickly had to wipe off through fear of looking quietly ridiculous). The space the headset transported me too was so different to that of the room I was actually in, a small, dimly lit studio with a window looking out at Paris. I noticed something peculiar during my time in the headset; my brain was filling in gaps. I could see and hear what was happening in the studio, but physically I was still in the Tate. When someone walked past me and I felt a breeze, I did not jump. Although in the room I could see nobody had walked by me, my brain filled in the gaps and told me 'Ah, there's a breeze coming in from that open window". Not only that, but I swear I could feel the air of a damp room. As drops of water fell from a leaky ceiling, I could feel in my feet the feeling of a drop of water hitting the ground.When I looked down, and couldn't see my body, for a moment I was shocked. Never in my life have I had a virtual reality experience which was so close to a reality.
On top of the sensory queues I was picking up from the headset, I was also feeling other things much more difficult to explain. The feeling of the room I was actually in was so different to the feeling of that inside the headset. Somehow as soon as I put it on, I felt different.
Walter Benjamin is quoted as asking "What happens to our experience of art, and to the artwork itself, when it becomes easy to reproduce it?" This virtual reality experience was not only a reproduction of art, but of space. Although a glorious insight into another world, another time, another persons life, the virtual reality headset, for now, allows only a glimpse into these realms. Benjamin's question should still stand, not just in terms of art, but in terms of all life.
Though today it seems a far vision into the future to possess a reproduction of say a jungle, with numerous layers of plants and animals existing together, this may well be the only way future generations would get to experience such a place. Realistically, what will happen when the reproduction of a jungle is not only 100% accurate in visual components, but also in other ways such as the feel of the air, the sound and proximity of wildlife, the feel of a tree against your fingertips? Benjamin sought an answer to his question because of his love and desire to preserve art. At the exhibition, most of my peers flew through the artwork to get straight to the VR experience, clearly showing now desire to look at the art, no interest. What happens when future generations would RATHER interact with a reproduction of a jungle, than the real thing?
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