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Ryoji Ikeda’s Superposition entirely surprised me. I’ll admit that I went to the Power Center expecting nothing more than a headache invoking sequence of bright lights and beeping. With the extremely high pitched noted at the beginning of the performance, I at first thought that my expectations would be confirmed.

However, my attitude toward the performance quickly changed. Ikeda managed to take noises and images that are generally written off simply as dry, confusing, data and turn them into an overpowering experience. Although the sounds and images were harsh, I found myself completely enthralled by the performance, drawn in so much that I couldn’t separate myself from the sound. I was incredibly impressed that the traditionally opposed realms of science and art were linked so flawlessly. Art relies on the artistic to relay meaning while the sciences relay on the scientific. Superposition blurred this distinction in a way I previously thought impossible. I never expected that data could participate in creativity.

The harsh sounds and piercing lights compelled me to turn away and plug my ears, but at the same time paralyzed me so that all I could do was direct my attention to the stage. It almost seemed that Superposition had a kind of hypnotic power. I was unable to analyze the performance; much like the sciences which Ikeda’s data and images are associated with it lay totally outside my realm of understanding. Despite this however, I left the Power Center feeling that whatever was being portrayed by Ikeda’s performance was relevant to me. Ikeda’s Superposition relayed some sort of artistic interpretation of the world that I previously expected could only be represented by traditionally artistic means. While the components of the performance seemed like utter chaos to me, there certainly existed an order, an explanation within the chaos. This paradox drew me into the performance, and left me with an impression of confusion, surprise, and amazement.

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People Are Talking: UMS presents Ryoji Ikeda’s superposition at Power Center:

I also failed to gather direct meaning from Superposition. But as I thought about and discussed the performance more, a friend proposed the idea that maybe we weren’t supposed to entirely understand it. The data was overwhelming and certainly outside of my knowledge base, but perhaps there is meaning in the fact that we couldn’t understand it. Maybe Ikeda was suggesting that we won’t be able to understand everything out there in the world. Big questions like “What is love?”, “What is life?”, etc. have yet to be answered objectively. Maybe it’s okay if we don’t understand everything.

In response to:
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“What is life? What is love?” read the telegraphs. It failed to ask, what is this performance?

Science and art. Math and music. Light and dark. Loud and complete silence. These strikingly opposite words all describe Ryoji Ikeda’s performance. While many enjoyed these varying dynamics, I did not. This performance seemed beyond my understanding.

While the different parts seemed interesting and insightful on their own, their correlation to the piece as a whole escaped me. For instance, the telegraph readings seemed meaningful, but of what? What message did they signify? Initially, the messages discussed information and its meaning with a very unique perspective: “Information is not knowledge.” Okay, so that seems like a very non-traditional approach to how we view information. This telegraph occurred during the black and white sequence of images. Later, the telegraphs moved from questioning the meaning of information to inquiring about the meaning of life, as mentioned earlier. The questioning of deep human values—life and love—were preceded by colored images instead of the initial, geometric, black and white visuals. This seems insightful, right? Adding color to symbolize the shift from a lifeless topic—information—to the emotional topic of human existence. But why? At this point, I still failed to understand what Superposition was trying to say. What was the meaning of this work as a whole? Maybe these two instances showcase a correlation—combining technology with meaning. However, the tuning forks and the zoomed in letters resembling a Scrabble board did not relate to the other two telegraph examples. I am by no means discrediting Ikeda’s skill or artistic perspective in Superposition; I am merely stating I did not understand it. Maybe my comfort with the traditional forms of performing arts hindered me from viewing this with a completely open mind, blocked me from reaping a meaning from his unconventional sounds and patterns. I left asking myself, what just happened? I still do not know.
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by Shalini

Ryoji Ikeda’s Superposition entirely surprised me. I’ll admit that I went to the Power Center expecting nothing more than a headache invoking sequence of bright lights and beeping. With the extremely high pitched noted at the beginning of the performance, I at first thought that my expectations would be confirmed.

However, my attitude toward the performance quickly changed. Ikeda managed to take noises and images that are generally written off simply as dry, confusing, data and turn them into an overpowering experience. Although the sounds and images were harsh, I found myself completely enthralled by the performance, drawn in so much that I couldn’t separate myself from the sound. I was incredibly impressed that the traditionally opposed realms of science and art were linked so flawlessly. Art relies on the artistic to relay meaning while the sciences relay on the scientific. Superposition blurred this distinction in a way I previously thought impossible. I never expected that data could participate in creativity.

The harsh sounds and piercing lights compelled me to turn away and plug my ears, but at the same time paralyzed me so that all I could do was direct my attention to the stage. It almost seemed that Superposition had a kind of hypnotic power. I was unable to analyze the performance; much like the sciences which Ikeda’s data and images are associated with it lay totally outside my realm of understanding. Despite this however, I left the Power Center feeling that whatever was being portrayed by Ikeda’s performance was relevant to me. Ikeda’s Superposition relayed some sort of artistic interpretation of the world that I previously expected could only be represented by traditionally artistic means. While the components of the performance seemed like utter chaos to me, there certainly existed an order, an explanation within the chaos. This paradox drew me into the performance, and left me with an impression of confusion, surprise, and amazement.