Rituals, Bodies and Collective Dynamics

In the exhibition Temper at the Kunsthaus Hamburg, the latest works by artist and filmmaker Yalda Afsah are for the first time brought together within one space. The three films belong to an ongoing body of work in which Yalda Afsah, through the lens of cultural microcosms, explores universal questions revolving around the behaviour of individuals within social structures and the relationships between bodies and their environment. Based on rigorous visual language, subtle observation and a condensed soundscape, Yalda Afsah opens up new perspectives on the forces that foster communities. In an interview with Anna Nowak, curator and director of the Kunsthaus Hamburg, she talks about her artistic interest in rituals, her working processes and speaks about the five elements as a connecting thread and impetus for her cinematic exploration of collective physical practices.

Anna Nowak: In your latest series of works, you focus on rituals set in quite different cultural and geographical contexts. What was the starting point for your artistic engagement with this theme? And what, in your view, links the seemingly contrasting practices you present in your films?

Yalda Afsah: The starting point was above all my interest in communities, particularly in the connecting aspect of rituals. What is it that holds a community together, and in what way do such binding forces become visible and tangible during a collectively performed ritual? To me, rituals are a means of collective self-affirmation and an expression of cultural identity, but also an ambivalent form of social control. The communities I work with have a strong sense of cohesion within their respective contexts, and the ritual itself is rarely questioned by those involved. There is something deeply rooted and long-standing about it. This can be transcribed to many other contexts: we often do not question what we regard as commonplace and neutral in our own world. In a microcosm, it simply becomes more apparent. I am also interested in the significance of rituals in secularized and technologized societies, where at the same time there is a growing need for community and a sense of direction.

What links the practices shown in my films – which at first sight seem very different – is this sense of community that is generated and passed down through the generations through rituals. In addition, each of the rituals I have dealt with is associated with an element: in JARRAMPLAS it is the earth, in PAN the cosmos, and in HEAT it is fire. This specific association allows me to give each film its own focus, arising from what the respective community addresses in the ritual: power and violence, a sense of community or their relationship with nature. The specific cultural context is therefore not necessarily of concern. What is more important are the dynamics and tensions within the community – in other words, the issues they are negotiating with each other and which find expression in the ritual.

Anna Nowak: Your work is grounded on long and intensive research. How do you seek out the rituals you examine? And how do you engage with a particular place and community before you even start filming?

Yalda Afsah: Preparation is actually the most time-consuming part. For one film, I need about a years’ time, and this is spent largely on research. Oftentimes, it all starts with an image, a story or a clue that I follow up on. I’m interested in rituals that are very specific and hyper-local, but which also highlight a theme that concerns the community in a fundamental way. There are no rigid criteria I follow for choosing a ritual; in addition to a corresponding element, a wide variety of factors play a role. I’m particularly interested in rituals that have undergone some kind of transformation and are now firmly anchored in the present – in other words, those that are no longer practised in the exact same way as they were 200 years ago. I’m interested in their contemporary form through which one can sense how the original core has blended with new influences. After this comes the phase of establishing contact and talking to local people, organizers and participants. Meanwhile, I also put together a small team to assist me both with on-site organization and with preparations for the shoot.

Anna Nowak: Once you’re there in person: how do you connect with the setting and establish relationships with the people you’re filming? What challenges do you face – particularly when you’re dealing with situations holding deep cultural or spiritual significance for those involved?

Yalda Afsah: Relationships with some of the people usually take shape before I actually arrive at the location. As I have to clarify well in advance whether I’ll be able to film at all, they tend to develop during the preparation phase – based on conversations and via contacts who enable us access and support the shoot even before we are on site. Then there are, of course, the many people who participate in the rituals and whom we only meet once we’re there. It’s important to me that there’s always someone from the region joining the team – someone who speaks the language and is available for questions, meaning, someone who can explain what we’re doing to anyone who’d like to find out more about us. Most of the time, the rituals are public, there generally are spectators and a camera being present is nothing unusual. With PAN, it was different, because the ritual the film is about is normally only accessible to those directly involved. So, things took more time, and, above all, it wasn’t a given that we would be allowed to film there. However, we had a number of people from the community at our side who were very supportive in helping us make the film. It was also important to recognize and respect whenever someone did not want to be part of the film. 

Anna Nowak: HEAT was completed only this May. I’m delighted that at the Kunsthaus, we’re showing the film in an institutional setting for the first time. Preparing for the film, you conducted extensive research on a ritual in Taiwan. From an outsider’s perspective, the Bombing of Master Handan is an equally fascinating and unsettling event. How did you experience your own position as an observer of the ceremony – particularly considering the physical danger, but also in regard of the cultural significance this festival holds for those taking part?

Yalda Afsah: From the outside, the Bombing of Master Handan in Taitung appears to be a chaotic, uncontrolled act of collective self-endangerment: a bare-chested man representing the god Handan is pelted with fireworks. Around him, a crowd wearing light protective clothing moves through the streets, accompanied by incessant explosions. However, once there, I realized that the whole event follows clear rules. It is a carefully coordinated choreography, built on trust, experience and mutual consideration. What looks like a total loss of control is actually organized with great precision. As an observer, I was in the heart of the action. I had to protect myself whilst at the same time staying close enough to capture the bodies and those little moments. This proximity changed the way I saw things. You felt the heat and the noise within your own body – and you realize how quickly you yourself become part of this collective tension. At the same time, I was aware that to those involved I was an outsider witnessing a ritual that is of great significance to them, as it is meant to bring blessings and prosperity for the coming year. The god Handan has been worshipped for a very long time, but the ritual in this form, involving pyrotechnics, has been around for only about fifty years. According to legend, Handan hates the cold, which is why the greatest possible heat is created around him. In the film, the camera lingers on the bodies tensing up in sync with the explosions. For me, it is precisely this tension between apparent escalation and communal order that can also be interpreted as a metaphor for social eruptions.

Anna Nowak: In JARRAMPLAS, we don’t really know what the group is throwing their turnips at. Similarly, in PAN and HEAT, you provide the audience with only little contextual information. What role does this gesture of holding back play? What is this omission intended to do with our gaze and our perception?

Yalda Afsah: I work a lot with omission. In JARRAMPLAS, you never see what the crowd is aiming at. Through the editing, I alter the narrative to where one might think people are throwing things at one another. When the counterpart isn’t visible, the relationship to which the community is responding to is missing, and I find that fascinating. It allows viewers to adopt a different perspective and perhaps see the events in a completely different light. The focus shifts from the specific context to broader questions, so that the image can also be applied to other situations, violent protests, for instance, where we are familiar with images of crowds throwing objects. Through the notably slowed-down pace, the framing of the shots and the sound, I remove the events from their purely narrative context. We see countless images every day without knowing how they came about, and these fragments of rituals convey something similar. As a consequence of these omissions, the viewer is able to adopt a different stance. The narrative is loosely structured, but it builds up, moving from a state of not knowing towards more context, until the audience can gain their own impression.

Anna Nowak: From the very start of our collaboration, it was clear that we wanted to present the three films on a monumental scale and with an open soundscape. You had suggested curved, transparent structures through which image and sound would radiate into the centre of the Kunsthaus’s exhibition hall. Thanks to the spatial arrangement, the large-format film installations primarily stand on their own, while simultaneously allowing the images and sounds of the three works to partially overlap in the centre of the space. Depending on the perspective, one film becomes the main focus, yet one is always aware of the others as well. This makes your individual artistic signature as a filmmaker very prominent: the different rituals are, in a sense, linked by your way of seeing. Is this spatial proximity between the works intended to alter the way we perceive them? And what role do visitors play in this interplay?

Yalda Afsah: I always find it interesting to consider the works featured in an exhibition in relation to the space in which they are displayed. The Kunsthaus has a very large hall, and I generally prefer not to incorporate solid walls that divide a space or obscure its architecture. Instead, I try to conceive the installation of the works in such a way that they interact with the existing spatial structures. In this case, the four columns in the room provide a very clear structure and define the lines of sight. This also gave rise to the idea of arranging the film installations in a more monumental way and incorporating curves, which also play an important role in the rituals and the films. I wanted to transfer this formal element into the architecture of the exhibition without creating massive, enclosed structures. The open, transparent capsules allow the films to shine through, so they can be perceived from different angles, even if they are not always fully visible. The works can run simultaneously, while a certain degree of shielding is also created so that, if you want, you can concentrate on a single film. 

The open-ended approach to the sound design was, indeed, an experiment for me as well, in which I deliberately relinquished some control. As the films play in a loop and vary in length, their soundtracks constantly overlap in different ways. This creates constellations that are continually changing. Through the overlapping of the sound, the films enter into a relationship with one another and influence each other, without losing their distinctiveness. Visitors move freely within this interplay. They decide for themselves from which perspective to view the works, which film to focus their attention on and how long to remain with a particular work.

Anna Nowak: The title of your solo exhibition here is Temper. It alludes to notions of mood and emotional tension. In your three works, physical intensity, collective affects, anxiety, devotion and violence play an important role. All three films offer a strong physical and sensory experience in terms of movement, rhythm, sound and light. How do you develop this cinematic language? And how do you decide when to remain an observer of a situation and when to intervene more actively by means of camera or sound?

Yalda Afsah: I tend to see the development of a cinematic language as a process that continues to evolve on different levels. When I’m researching a particular subject or ritual, an initial idea of what the film might look like begins to take shape. As soon as I’m on location, much of that changes and is redefined, simply by the fact that I’m standing behind the camera deciding what to focus on in each moment, what to deliberately leave out of the frame and when to move the camera. As I don’t stage or direct anything, I have no control over what happens next in front of the camera. I see this as a very powerful, even performative act, because I’m reacting directly to what’s happening. For me, the most exciting part is when I’m taken by surprise by what is playing out in front of the camera. I’m very interested in this moment of unpredictability.

I always shoot at a frame rate of at least 50 frames per second, often higher, so that I can slow down sequences of movement later on. I feel that, oftentimes, too much happens in too short a time, and slowing down the footage allows me to delve deeper into the movements within the visual space. This creates moments of concentration in which something is rendered visible which otherwise – in the immediate action – is scarcely perceptible with such clarity. Another, absolutely crucial layer emerges during the editing process. I often edit entirely without sound; the soundtrack is added later and, to me, goes beyond merely complementing the image. It opens up a layer all of its own; it alters how we perceive what is unfolding and can even fundamentally shift our perception of a particular scene.

Anna Nowak: The three works we are showing are part of a larger series; two other films are yet to follow. The individual works are linked by the five elements: cosmos, earth, fire, water and air. Do these elements represent an overarching theme for you? What role do they play within the series?

Yalda Afsah: The elements play a role for me in the sense that they possess very different qualities and are venerated in various ways across many cultures and traditions. It is the relationship between the body and the respective element that take centre stage. I am interested in the different physical experiences arising from this specific encounter and how the qualities of the element affect the bodies and their movements. In the next piece, for example, which revolves around the element of water, the focus will be on how a group of people enter the water together and submerge their bodies completely. This is an entirely different physical experience to the one we witness in HEAT, for instance, where explosions, smoke and the heat create very different conditions to which the bodies must react. For me, the elements therefore are less symbols with a fixed meaning than material forces with which people interact. I am interested in how this interplay takes shape in each instance and what different forms of physical intensity, movement and perception result from it. In this sense, the works explore the question of how the human body responds when engaging with different elements and the forces of its environment, and how this encounter can be perceived and experienced physically.