These Banned Books Bring Us On A Disorienting Journey

Somewhere in between electronics, mechanical technology, film, and performance--that’s where Canadian artist Robyn Moody creates. Although his projects are often humorous and even poetic, they’re also apt to stray into slightly darker, more obscure places, probing the relationship between man and technology, science, politics, and nature.

Butterflies: Species at risk at the edge of reason is a kinetic installation that Moody has shown and developed since 2011. As visitors walk into Butterflies’ hushed exhibition space, they are surrounded by books that lie open on the tables and stands in the room. Then, Butterflies’ subtle world begins to unfold. Equipped with motorized hands, each table opens and closes the book it holds with the quiet calm of a butterfly’s wings. As light reacts to the book’s moving cover and pages, a game of light and shadow plays across the room’s walls and tables.

“Walking into the installation is quiet, calm and somewhat mesmerizing. I don't quite know how to describe the feeling; think of coming out of the woods into a clearing filled with butterflies, and the magical feeling that comes with that. Then realize this isn't as good as that, but is the sort of the feeling I had in mind,” Moody says of his work.

If the aesthetic experience of Moody’s exhibit is otherworldly and muted, the content of the books presented is in direct contrast to Butterflies’ calm. All the books share the distinction of having been banned or censored upon publication for their content, judged too “obscure” or threatening to the spirit by the dominant religious or political figures of their time. Galileo, Darwin, Copernicus--Moody’s installation puts some of history’s most famous auto-da-fé on display.

In terms of its technology, Butterflies is minimalistic, nixing any unnecessary detail that would impede the installation’s immersive experience. The motor of each desk’s mechanism is exposed, but just enough to call the viewer’s attention to how Butterflies creates its unique atmosphere.

As of next month, the installation will be presented in a new configuration at the Seconde Nature  space in Aix-en-Provence, France. We spoke with Moody to learn more about the inspirations and ideas behind Butterflies.

The Creators Project: Hi Robyn. Looking at this collection of books, I assume you’ve read many of them before choosing for the project. How exactly did you draft the list of books included?

Robyn Moody: Some I have read, but for the most part it is their cultural importance that informed the choices.  Most everyone understands the importance of Galileo's Dialogues, and the trouble it got him into with the church; or Salman Rushdie's Satanic Verses and the fatwa that resulted. Their selection results from their being simultaneously celebrated as brilliant works, and their authors finding themselves in mortal danger from bands of small minded nitwits for having written them.

The books were also chosen based on their level of influence on the world and on the fact that attempts were made to suppress them. I'm sure that there will be other books that I will feel should have been included, but these ones fit the criteria well enough.

This installation is so unique--we’d like to know where you got the idea for something like this. 

RM: The idea came from watching sunlight as it came in through a window, bouncing off the pages of a book someone was reading, and illuminating the space to varying degrees as they opened and closed the book. This seemed interesting enough, so I started puppeteering with my book to find movements that felt right.

The unpredictable movement of a butterflies wings at rest seemed right, and this led to the choice of books; books that had been banned or challenged, that, like butterflies, are beautiful and elegant, but also vulnerable.

The calm of the space is in contrast with the controversy caused by the content of the books presented. How did you navigate that dynamic in laying out the installation?

RM: It may be different from the books' contents, but the books are all quite different from each other - their only common thread is their beauty and their vulnerability to attack.  I like to create somewhat magical and transportive spaces for my work, allowing the viewer to forget where they are and become immersed in the scene.  Based on my choice of butterflies for the motion, the magical feeling of being in a butterfly sanctuary is what I wanted to create.   Not the actual scene, but the feeling of such a place; of calm and quiet meditative contemplation.

Is there a  message behind Butterflies?

RM: I don't think of messages in my work. The term "message" always strikes me as something that can be summed up in a vapid quote, nullifying the bother of making the work at all. I tend to think instead of all the ideas that were floating around in my head as I made the work.  Some had to do with the visual effect of light bouncing off the pages of the books; the open book becoming a source for illumination, and the closed book plunging us into darkness.  Some ideas concerned the anti science rhetoric that is sadly gaining ground (one of the hallmarks of a society about to enter a dark age, according to Jane Jacobs. These thoughts were the reason for the full title: Butterflies: Species at risk at the edge of reason.

Then there were the technical considerations - to make the works move in a way that would make them feel alive rather than robotic; and the decision to allow the mechanics to be seen, so that the viewer would not be distracted with the curiosity of understanding how it worked, and could instead focus on the scene unfolding.

The technical aspect of the installation is stunning in person, but might require more explanation for a reader, who relies on his imagination. Can you explain it a little more in detail?

RM: This is purely mechanical. Just a motor moving a couple of differently sized gears to create the unpredictable and organic motion. It's actually very simple, and therefore extremely reliable.

A slow motor moves a pair of differently sized gears, putting them out of synch. In tandem, these contribute to lifting and lowering a pair of levers - but not being synchronized means the levers move in an unpredictable manner. This unpredictability is what keeps the machine from feeling mechanical, and makes the motion of the book seem like that of a living creature.

The installation has been shown since 2011 in many different spaces. How do you take each space into account to preserve the installation’s intended feel?

RM: The installation changes with every space. The number of books is based on the size of the space I have to work with, and the configuration is just based on what feels right from the entrance. There is no consistent order in which the books are experienced - though, because it was the first, and because it is a book that so quickly expresses the idea of an elegant idea under threat, Darwin's On the Origin of Species is typically located nearer the entrance.

What other projects are you currently working on ?

RM: Sure.  I have a project underway, in collaboration with Denton Fredrickson, set to premiere in Calgary at the end of September through Truck Gallery. It is sort of a musical composition, based on systems of data storage.  It uses two player pianos, but instead of responding to input from punched paper scrolls, are interpreting  information from Wikipedia and Diderot's encyclopedia.  It's partly inspired by Victorian spiritualism and the mechanical age. This will just be the first phase of this piece - it will continue to develop over time in successive showings.

There are other works underway, but are still too early in the planning stages to discuss.

Video & picture credits : Robyn Moody