Entering the Whitechapel exhibition is like stepping into a living hallucination. How beautiful it is that an individual can have such an imagination and can let his creativity run riot.
In Refusal of Time, a wooden machine sets a frantic tempo, along with the disorienting tic-tac sound of a trombone. The dissonant music coming out from the silver cones, set in the corners of the room, doesn’t quite match the tempo, and the whole thing creates a Tim Burtonesque vibe that is welcomingly warm and deeply enjoyable. A black and white cinematic montage and its characters’ repetitive motions adds to the dynamism of the installation.
Is it perhaps because everything feels so insane, that I feel so comfortable sitting and participating in Kentridge’s world? Having stepped into this mess, I feel a sense of hope; he is one of the few artists opening the door to their own mania and allowing spectators to make themselves feel at home.