Digital Ghosts and Shape-Shifting: Sandra Mujinga’s Flo
The artist shares the inspiration behind her larger-than-life hologram installation, now on view at MoMA.
Sandra Mujinga
Feb 27, 2023
To celebrate the third installment in MoMA’s 2023 Collection Exhibition series—Sandra Mujinga’s Flo, opening on March 3 in gallery 213—the artist discusses the many elements of her spectacular work. On the first Friday of every month—when the Museum stays open until 8:00 p.m. and offers free admission to New Yorkers—these exhibitions will invite audiences to continue to explore MoMA’s dynamic collection and connect with art and ideas from more places and perspectives than ever before. This work is also presented as part of the exhibition Signals: How Video Transformed the World.
My name is Sandra Mujinga. I am a Norwegian artist born in Goma, DR Congo. This is my piece Flo, from 2019, and it’s titled after my late mom, whom I lost when I was 15.
When I made this work, I was thinking about digital ghosts, and ways of working with opacity and ways of working with contradictions of being hyper-visible and invisible at the same time, which I think is a reality for many Black bodies. Using the dark space as agency, seeing the possibilities in existing in the dark rather than being visible, has also affected my work.
I made Flo in a time when I was seeing several holograms of celebrities that were still touring—Tupac, Whitney Houston—and I was thinking of it as this clear gesture of having people with us or insisting that somehow technology could surpass death. I was also thinking about it in the context of living in a time when I have multiple friends who have passed that still have their social media presence, and how we interact with that.
Sandra Mujinga, Flo, 2019, installation view, Bergen Kunsthall. Courtesy: the artist, The Approach, London and Croy Nielsen, Vienna. Photograph: Thor Brødreskift
I was thinking about how the Black body has been seen as threatening, and how this can cause real danger to it. The body is using this tool to also disappear in the dark.
Sandra Mujinga
What you see when you enter the space is mainly darkness. At some point, you realize that your eyes will also adjust to the darkness. The piece is about letting go and being in the space, and merging with the piece through the sound and being able to sit and absorb it all.
You’ll see a silhouette of something that could look human, but it’s more abstract. You see a body that is modeled after Ann-Marie Crooks, a bodybuilder who I was fascinated by, because I spent a period researching Black women bodybuilders. I was drawn to this idea of them expanding their bodies, rather than making themselves smaller. So then I was collecting images of Black women bodybuilders, and at some point I started making what would somehow be a homage to them, and then that resulted in wearable sculptures.
The wearable sculpture that the performer, Adrian Blount, is wearing is a full, faux-leather, wearable sculpture. It’s quite heavy. It somewhat lives its own life. Brown leather was interesting to me because I was looking for something that could be as close to skin color as possible. In Norway, there’s still a word that is used when we say skin color, it’s usually referring to whiteness. And I’ve been thinking of ways to find my own skin color. That’s why I’m so drawn to working with different browns, particularly with this wearable sculpture too. I call it that instead of it being a garment because it’s a way to think about the fabric having its own agency, and there’s also a way to think about the body being in dialogue with something rather than how a garment would adapt to the body. I gave Adrian the assignment to basically move as a bodybuilder would, and with that came limitations that shaped the choreography and movement of Adrian.
The ghost is floating in space, and this is through a technique called Pepper’s ghost, which is like a hologram, and something I found out about when I was researching different hologram concerts. It’s basically having a surface reflecting what is projected onto the ground, placed at a 45-degree angle. It’s a technique that has been used since the 1800s for theater, and to actually create the illusions of ghosts. What you see is also like a repetition; the element is flickering. One doesn’t really know when the body’s appearing and when the body will disappear again. Through the layering of the digital files, it makes the body ephemeral, and in that sense, even though it is based on a bodybuilder, it is almost protecting the body through it not being fully opaque. I was thinking about how the Black body has been seen as threatening, and how this can cause real danger to it. The body is using this tool to also disappear in the dark.
Process shot with performer Adrian Blount in wearable sculpture, as part of the creation of Sandra Mujinga’s Flo. Image courtesy the artist
I’m always aiming to be as free as possible, but I’m also creating a structure for that [freedom] to exist.
Sandra Mujinga
When I work with soundtracks, I often create loops, and then I work with software, with different apps, and also sometimes a field recording or samples online. So I have a process of creating loops, and then I have another process of creating melodies, and then I have a process of collecting sounds. With Flo, there’s this part where there is thunder. I’m using low frequency with that sound, so it’s kind of thunder that is appearing: it’s more something that you feel in your body rather than hear.
Sandra Mujinga, Flo, 2019, installation view, Bergen Kunsthall. Courtesy: the artist, The Approach, London and Croy Nielsen, Vienna. Photograph: Thor Brødreskift
I’m drawn to materializing my ideas through different mediums, so I work with installations, music, performance, and sculptures, even text. For me it has always been a kind of a continuation of the same body. I’m always aiming to be as free as possible, but I’m also creating a structure for that [freedom] to exist. And I think what has drawn me to this idea of working with something that could look like a video installation—but it’s also a sculpture and it could also resemble a theater stage, so it has a performative element in it—is that it gives this possibility to shape-shift. It’s a way for the work to travel in some sense, or to have the right to change, or also a right to, I guess, opacity. The work can also decide what element or how it wants to present itself, rather than it being just one thing.
—As told to Sophie Cavoulacos, Associate Curator, Department of Film
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