‘We don’t need other worlds, we need mirrors.’ (Stanisław Lem, Solaris)
But what does one see, looking into a mirror?
Notwithstanding outward appearance, our embodied existence is not as singular and unchanging as we might like to think, even on the microscale of tiny split-seconds, of blinks of the eye. When you think about it, the human body is made up of tens of trillions of cells, replacing themselves at the rate of millions a second; whilst on the outer front, comparable amounts of dead skin cells are shed every day. Anatomically speaking, each moment the eyes are set upon the mirror, the image reflected from therein constitutes a new you. As life unfolds, each of us constantly perpetually morphs into our next physicality.
A similar idea permeates the strange (and wonder-full) field of quantum physics. Enters the multiverse, an important quantum theory that postulates that ours – the ‘now’ and ‘here’ that me and you and everyone we know are experiencing – is not the only universe there is. At any given point in time, in interstellar regions impossibly faraway we have virtually zero chance of ever travelling to (Level-1 and -2 multiverses), or in our own space-time, layered, but equally unreachable and undetectable (Level 3), there exist an infinite number of versions of us, each slightly different from others, all of whom together constituting the comprehensive set of permutations of events that could play out over the course of somebody’s life, down to the tiniest, most seemingly-insignificant moments.1
And if we could capture the gist of these far-out ideas with just one word, we would perhaps say: possibilities. At one extreme, in its beautiful absolution, is the idea that in a multiverse, anything that could happen, happens, in this universe, or another; towards the other, being able to dream up at least one other ‘you,’ is already the beginning of something, a catalyst force.
Possibilities.
The same word applies itself equally well to an endeavour that cannot lie further away from quantum physics: self-portraiture. Increasingly, self-portraiture has been less about excruciating contours of real-life likeness, rather: imagined explorations of who one aspires to be, their hopes, dreams, and ultimately, essence. Similar to science’s infinitely-dimensional so-called Hilbert space where parallel universes co-exist, imbued within one single image is the potentiality for multiple lives and realities. As outward appearances are ephemeral, in flux – and despite our attempts at propelling, or halting, this process – whichever terms we use to define it, what defines us is something that belongs to the disembodied realm. Self-portrait-making constitutes an act of searching for this self. But which self, in particular? And where do those aforementioned realities play out?
Reflecting developments in self-portraiture in recent times, the crop of 23 finalist artworks of the 5th edition of Dogma Prize – from the figurative to the more abstract and conceptual (which formidably confront the notion of self-portraiture in the context of contemporary art), from the quiet, meditative, to the intense, bold and challenging, from paintings, sculptures, to videos and installations – altogether engender a multiverse network, dream up versions of the selves inhabiting universes that are not necessarily those we cling to with our earthly senses.
For instance, the past, the parallel presents and the future can all be considered as metaphysical universes: within the framework of quantum physics, every time a person makes a decision, the present universe ‘splits’ in two, each to split – multiply – into infinite smaller universes down the line. (To say that a universe ‘splits’ is a manner of speaking that would not be deemed 100% scientifically correct – but apt enough for our purpose; please refer to the Many-Worlds theory proposed by Hugh Everett III for further, more precise details.) As part of The Multiverse, there are works that ruminate on personal decisions that, once made, have the potential to alter a life forever. The flutter of the butterfly’s wings, the if-only’s, the missed opportunities. But also: all possible futures, the beautiful mysteries. And yet, some say that the passing of time is an illusion, that the past never will vanish, and the future has already been there, that – from birth to death – we simply travel along a timeline of forever-happening events that have already been laid out.
One’s selves can also be found beyond one’s universes: when we exist, we do so, too, in the minds of others. It is not always the case that the perception harboured by these others coincide with those we have. The hall of thousands of mirrors. Here, the act of making self-portraits can almost be said to have been entrusted upon – carried out by – others, as symbiotic relationships take centre stage. The gaze is shifted out-, instead of inwards. The spaces between people and things bring forth certain revelations about ourselves.
Each of these universes, no matter how much of a far-out, conceptual product of the mind, has its inception in our shared external reality, though of course each person might perceive this reality in a different way. ‘No man is an island.’ One does not simply exist in a void. And thus – not unlike how every work of art can perhaps be considered as a documentation of the author’s selves – carried with an artist’s own image are traces of the world, and this is reflected clearly in the works featured in The Multiverse, a number of which go beyond the personal selves to convey commentaries on aspects of the times: amongst others, forgotten histories, cultural anaesthesia, the changing landscapes, social prejudices, vampiric compulsions for mind-numbing streams of information and sensory overloads, the notion of privacy (or the lack of it), the monitoring and the monitored, domestic abuse.
If this year’s submissions for Dogma Prize seem more vocal, more emotionally-resonant, self-aware, daring, courageous, in their questions and expressions, compared to the previous editions’, then it is yet another reaffirmation of the power of art in holding up mirrors in a way nothing else could and would, of its value beyond the intrinsic and the aesthetical, towards prospects of changes. Whilst the final selection radiates a bleak melancholy – a reflection of the current state of things – there lingers an unmistakable sense of defiant optimism.
In a way pleasantly unexpected, a multiverse is formed, as these 23 artists respond to, take elements from, and reimagine their shared universe – the country Vietnam, the year 2017 – and run away with the inspirations, their imaginations. In its plurality, this multiverse serves as a map of possibilities.
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Who am I to argue with Stanisław Lem (and Andrei Tarkovsky)? But I say this anyway: in the humble opinion of this writer, it is the ability of looking into a mirror and, at the same time, dreaming of other worlds, that makes us human. To know yourself – at every age, experience, at every change of light – is crucial, but it is just as important to dare to think of other selves, and to dream them into reality.
Because if that does not become true in this reality, this universe, it is bound to anyway, in another. We might as well.
Text by Trần Duy Hưng
June 2017
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1 For a scientific – but not so heady – explanation of these levels of the multiverse, a good source would be the writings of scientist Max Tegmark.
