From behind the battered old church door there comes a sound like a furious bionic wasp. A sign taped to the door infers that there will be loud noises, flashing lights and a potential risk of magnetic interference to pacemakers. To me, it’s unclear whether this is a health warning, a sales pitch, or a promise.
Robbie Thomson, a Cryptic associate artist and member of the 85a collective, is showcasing his homage to the Tesla coil; the device invented by Nikola Tesla in the closing years of the 19th century which, amongst more useful applications in advancing the understanding of radio, enabled the transformation of voltage into arcs of lightning.
Thomson’s centre-stage structure – a coil housed within a metallic Faraday cage – is eerily reminiscent of Louise Bourgeois’s series of Cell sculptures, whilst fans of the current Twin Peaks reboot may get the sense that they are facing a portal into the Black Lodge. So, the sense is one of unease, coiled chaos and the latent threat of barely contained danger. Such is the curious nature of our relationship with electricity; the most common utility, and, arguably, hub of our advancement as a civilisation. There is a satisfying tension being alluded to there. A respect for the forces that we scarcely take the time to acknowledge in the midst of their daily utility.
Thomson, in the role of mad Promethean scientist seeking to harness the raw energy released by his own invention, deploys synths and sonic treatments in howling waves, crackling shotgun blasts and clattering rhythmic bursts. Along with twin projectors casting restless geometries on and around the cage which dissolve and reform the space, he forms a ground against which the Tesla coil’s sawtooth shriek and twin lighting horns fiercely asserts its presence.
When the elements of sound, light, projection, and raw electricity fuse together the impact is deeply immersive and transformative and, within a club environment I can only imagine that this would be nothing less than spectacular. As a late afternoon sit down showcase the feeling is more akin to witnessing a steampunk reinterpretation of the Victorian freak show in which various settings are contrived through which the master of the charivari will poke and prod the attraction to perform.
There are few, if any, artists working in the way that Thomson does. His fusion of science and spectacle, imagination and invention continue to make him a name to seek out. I hope that he one day publishes his working diagrams and notes, if for no other reason than to allow people centuries from now the same sense of wonder and excitement that we get when looking at the 15th century helicopters of Leonardo da Vinci.
Robbie Thomson’s XFRMR is a Cryptic commission for Sonica, presented at the Edinburgh Festival Fringe as part of the Made In Scotland curated showcase. www.cryptic.org.uk