Created by: Invisible Flock in collaboration with Landscape Ecology and Primatology (LEAP) based at Bournemouth University, Sumatran Orangutan Conservation Programme (SOCP) and Leuser Conservation Forum (FKL).
Invisible Flock’s The Sleeping Tree Installation provides an opportunity to escape into the mesmerising soundscape of a rainforest in Northern Sumatra, Indonesia. This longform durational sound experience has been created from over 5000 hours of audio recordings collected over a three month period mapping the environment. Through this process, researchers were able to identify the trees selected by gibbons and rare siamang in which to sleep. Catastrophically, the families’ favourites are also popular with illegal loggers, due to being very tall, hardwood, mature trees that offer the most protection from predators… at least most reasonable ‘predators’… ones without industrial chainsaws.
The aim of Invisible Flock in creating this powerful multi-sensory experience is to connect audiences with a fragile ecosystem. Due to the durational nature of this installation each attendee creates their own unique experience from the moment they choose to enter the space. When this reviewer arrives in the dimly lit environment, the call of monkeys ring out loudly for what feels like a long period of time. Perhaps this is their infamous morning call.
Without being able to see where the calls are coming from your mind can only speculate. As the noises continue, one has to wonder if this is the totality of the experience. Just what are these monkeys up to? We feel intrusive. And then wildly ridiculous. What species are we that sit in a darkened room listening to lar gibbon and siamang going about their business? Is this where we are with ‘culture’, in the heart of a concrete city of our own making, lying on beanbags, listening to recorded sounds of monkeys we’ve endangered and feeling like we are in some warped way giving back?
Some participants last longer than others in the environment. However, the rewards of staying are great to enormous. Once you stake your claim to a beanbag this experience dramatically improves. Beanbags are limited in number so at busy times the impact is distracting as people navigate claiming a beanbag in different ways. This scuffle is rather an interesting social experiment but one that is debatable as to whether it enhances the experience of the installation. More beanbags would alleviate the situation. However, then we wouldn’t wonder if this is altogether similar to how monkeys feel about their favourite spots in the sleeping tree. Either way, it is well worth persevering because taking up residency on a beanbag also means being in the spotlight which creates a beautiful illusion of rays of light streaming through a canopy. The rays very subtly move as smoke dances across them hypnotically. If you stay long enough you can enter a trance-like state as you watch the swirling and listen to the multilayered sounds.
The longer you spend hearing the soundscape the more you notice about the layers of noise. You might isolate certain sounds and equate them to sirens, to industrial machinery, to ‘the hum’. Is it a coincidence we’ve created tools that make noises recognisable in nature? There is also something ominous and apocalyptic about the scene. Time itself drops away. It could be the end of life on Earth or the beginning. Who knows? You might even hear a voice within say: who cares! Nothing seems to matter but this moment. Knots of tension you didn’t even know you were holding onto can unravel as the feeling of glorious calm washes over you. Your generosity towards others may improve, even as they crash ‘your’ beanbag. You could find yourself falling in love with the group mentality.
This is not a narrative based spectacle but it provides a rare opportunity for story to fall away. It’s a powerful experience. A range of feelings might pop up in the midst of your stillness. Some more mature people fall asleep, while children tumble about over beanbags. It seems in the dimness the boundaries between species begins to blur. Aesthetically, the installation shares some similar vibes to Olafur Eliasson’s The Weather Project installed in The Tate Modern Turbine Hall in 2003. Although with The Sleeping Tree the soundscape is the main event. Time listening to the sounds in this environment can melt away the stress of the urban world. It invites you to enter a transformative trance, and to relax into your true self. It calls you home.
The Sleeping Tree demonstrates how home isn’t where you think it is. And it reminds us how our real home really is now rare, fragile and vital.
Reviewed on the 6th May.
