Running until Nov. 3, MUJO is a multichannel film and sound installation that showcases recorded videos of dance performances deep in the desert, accompanied by an evocative sound composition. Performers weave a narrative with their bodies among sand dunes set against the night sky. Creating an impression of elemental rawness, MUJO highlights human relationships with wind and water as they shape the landscape around us, and we in turn attempt to shape it further. Beyond this, it investigates how such elements inevitably shape us. The title, meaning “impermanence” in Japanese, invites viewers to consider whether anything ever truly lasts.
The installation features a 30-minute video projected onto multiple surfaces in the Arts Center project space. At the far end of the room, three projections run side by side, each filmed from different angles to offer a full spectrum of motion. Through the center of the room, paper-thin façades rise from the floor, held by delicate strings. At times I imagined them as the sails on a ship, cutting through the land. At other times, the shapes transformed into waves, or the sweeping silhouettes of the dunes they depicted. Projections dance across these too, warped by strange angles and the harsh and unusual shapes of their backgrounds. No matter where you turn, your eyes are never too far away from the performance. Visitors are encouraged to move around the space, engaging with the installation from different perspectives.
You could be forgiven for thinking MUJO was not filmed on Earth. At first, I was convinced such a film could never truly have been made outdoors. The division between light and dark was starker than anything I had experienced or could ever imagine would occur in nature. In conversation with friends, I kept returning to notions of otherworldliness. How often does a person really pay attention to their environment? How rare is it for someone to be totally exposed to the forces of nature? In my five years here, I have never even stepped foot in the deep desert. It is a world I am often grateful to be shielded from.
I had the pleasure of interviewing Kiori Kawai who was responsible for the inspiration of this performance. It was a privilege talking with such a creative mind and to realize what this exhibition actually represented and how it connected with the human body and emotion.
Kiori Kawai is a dance performer, choreographer, and interactive installation artist. According to
her profile on the NYU Abu Dhabi Art Gallery website, “Sheʼs built up her own improvisatory movement vocabulary based on the techniques of meditation, Kinetic Awareness, Contact Improv, yoga, and various dance/movement training. This led her to design interactive installations that include human body movement within kinetic sculptures.”
When talking with her, the question that came to mind was what did the installation mean. She answered “Yeah, it's about impermanence. And then, you know, when you go to the desert, the sounds keep changing the shape, and they're like, all sounds are coming together, assembling, but the disassembling also at the same time, and it's like same like water, the ocean water, with assembling and disassembling, just the time is the difference.” It was interesting to find the unexpected connection between sand and different water bodies.
She expanded on the meaning of sand and the relation to the body and the mind: “Same as our body, which is everything kept changing, always assembling something and then disassembling, and that is how we are getting old and going to die.” She added another connection to the mind and the soul with this quote: “And then our mental mind is also some assembling, but it also keeps changing …. That's a base so inside of our body and the mind also that nature outside, basically the same thing.” She expanded on the idea that our emotions change and that is how the bodily movements are motivated and that for instance, “sometimes we feel anger about it, (we) want to hold on to it.” That is how the body flows when changes occur.
An important point she shared with me was why she chose Abu Dhabi sand as her medium: “I came to Abu Dhabi 7-8 years ago. Since then, I often went to the desert to dance by myself. So, yeah, I love the sand! It’s hard sometimes to walk, and very challenging to work with. I really love the nature”.
The process of creating MUJO was lengthy, starting during the COVID-19 pandemic when the team started gathering in the desert to explore how they could start working. As she has lived in Abu Dhabi for a lengthy period of time, the Liwa desert was indeed personal for Kiori. She saw the beauty of impermanence in the desert as she visited it to dance at nighttime and watch the sunrise while making patterns with her steps. That is what she described as the beauty of impermanence.
Lastly, when I asked if the piece was choreographed or if it had a specific emotional trajectory, Kiori replied: It’s not bodily choreographed. We talked with the dancers about the concept here and then saw how the body can go. That kind of improvisational aspect.”
Those were the thoughts Kiori shared with me about the installation that she, Aaron Sherwood, and Surabhi Sharma presented. Live performances of MUJO will take place on Nov. 1 and 2 in the Al Khatim Desert, for viewers hoping to experience it in the flesh.
Anna Stathopoulou is Deputy Column Editor. Harry Creber is a Staff Writer. Email them at feedback@thegazelle.org.