Anohni’s Miracle Now, exhibited at the Nikolaj Kunsthal in Copenhagen, is a two-story exhibition exploring dread at what Anohni calls “impending eco-collapse.” In a dark, haunting, but strangely hopeful exhibition, drag culture finds itself at the center of a reflection on ecological destruction. On two levels in the former church Nikolaj Kunsthal, Anohni takes the viewer through a visual-auditory immersive art piece, which shifts dramatically in tone from the first to the second floor of the church.
The exhibition takes place in three principal rooms, beginning with two rooms on the first floor, and ending in a grand hall on the second floor. Stepping in through the light-filled lobby of the Nikolaj Kunsthal, one enters the first room of Anohni’s piece: a white walled space with framed newspaper clippings hanging on the wall. The newspapers range in historical timing, from the 80s to the early 2000s, but a theme is clear: disaster, destruction, and death. The first article details glorified drag queen, Sylvia Rivera’s fall from grace--her descent into homelessness and her suicide attempt in the Hudson River, inspired by the late Martha Johnson who jumped into the river three years prior. Across the room, one finds a newspaper clipping detailing Martha Johnson’s death, as well as her death certificate, printed with her given name, “Malcolm Michaels.” The rest of the newspapers’ headlines warn the viewer of melting ice caps, nuclear roulette with Russia, a burgeoning aids virus, and the warming antarctic. Particularly strikingly, Anohni scribbles notes in the margins, telling the reader, “we were the same,” as they confront the image of an massive elephant killed by poachers. This room sets a scene: death and environmental catastrophe are ever-present and looming, even in a light-filled room on the ground floor of a church.
Walking into the next room, one is greeted by a physical darkness that better mimics the mood of the newspapers. The room is large and relatively empty, aside from the bright screens lining the four walls. The warm red, yellow, and orange hues on many of the screens give the room a sense of being lit on fire. The videos in the room are wide-ranging but largely seem designed to amplify the eerie doom of room one. Directly across from the entrance, a dolled up drag queen on a fluorescent screen struggles for words, mouthing “I don’t know” with tear filled eyes on a loop, as if grasping for something to say when words cannot describe her sadness. Anohni clearly does not shy away from the gory or the glamorous--the room’s screens involve many dancing drag queens, some who are blood soaked and gyrating, others who are dancing with a type of glee that borders on insanity. A woman’s voice is amplified throughout the room, warning listeners that the Soviet Union has been pumping radioactive nuclear waste directly into the earth, occasionally alternating between this alarming report and haunting piano music. Circling the room counter clockwise, the final image one sees is a fetus floating in its womb. What is it that Anohni is trying to tell us? A room full of images of melting ice caps and nuclear waste might have achieved the same goal of warning the viewer of a coming ecocide. But, by mixing individual stories from the AIDS crisis with sweeping observations of ecological devastation, Anohni brings us back down to the human level of ecological tragedies.
Although born and raised in England, Anohni lived in Manhattan as an artist during the early 90s and, crucially, through the AIDS epidemic. While global warming can at times seem unfathomable, Anohni has found a way to grasp the problem at a human level by paralleling the potential devastation with the devastation wreaked on the gay community by the AIDS virus. Just as the gay community managed to find resilience during the AIDS crisis through art, Anohni tries to find strength and hope despite the seeming despair of impending ecological change beyond our wildest understanding. The fetus at the end of the exhibit reminds the viewer why hope is imperative.
That hope, while sparse in the first half of the exhibition, is just a climb away on the second floor. The second stage of the exhibition is a breath of fresh air compared to the dark dungeon of soviet nuclear deception and blood-soaked artists. Here, the church becomes an integral player in Anohni’s production, as the high arching ceiling, decorative window, and beautiful streaming sunlight make it easier to breathe and lightens the soul of the viewer. Anohni’s art amplifies this feeling. The pieces up here are a mix of collage, photography, sculpture and painting, but all of them seem to share a whimsy and playfulness that was missing in the heaviness of the downstairs rooms. Anohni incorporates familiar forms as well as abstractions; tribal and pagan inspired sculptures, feminine images, and various holes make up a key part of the work. The contrast between the two levels is almost jarringly stark and may leave the viewer feeling out of place and disjointed after the downstairs experience. However, the hope also seems to be a welcome feeling, as the literal lightness of the air and easier breathing calm the body. While somewhat incongruous, it does seem to accomplish what Anohni wants to accomplish: giving the viewer a sense of optimism in feminine energy, indigenous values, and minimalism. But if the ecocide is really coming, as Anohni seems to believe, is art enough to save us?
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