Haroon Mirza's first London solo show at the Lisson Gallery, Bell Street manifests itself as a musical composition as much, if not more so, as an installation to be considered on visual terms.

Retro technical equipment and familiar household objects are re-appropriated and juxtaposed with video footage to create sculptural installations that punctuate the physical space and act as triggers for the all encompassing audio that permeates the galleries three rooms.

The exhibition is divided into three main works each occupying its own room in the gallery. In the first, Cross Section of a Revolution, 2011, political footage, fuzzy with age, plays through an outdated monitor as you first walk in. A radio hitched to an old Technic turntable spins, picking up interference from a light bulb and chiming against a precisely placed bulldog clip with each revolution. In the far corner three monitors take it in turns to screen looped footage of Kenyan drummers, each edit singling out a distinct beat which adds to the omnipresent soundtrack. Wedges of foam arranged geometrically along the lower section of the back wall remind me at once of both soundproofing and, perhaps speculatively, a padded cell. The sounds are abrasive and the atmosphere is tense, a high pitched screeching noise reminiscent of a siren sweeps across the room underpinning a sense of conflict and unease. Everything seems so explicitly assigned that when the doorbell chimes and more visitors are buzzed in I can't help but feel that, if I didn't know better, even the buzzer itself could be intentional.

The vibe shifts in Evolution of a Revolution, 2011, the second part of the exhibition situated in the main gallery, and feels less antagonistic than the previous room. A strobe light pulses and a video of a figure in motion is projected through a small screen placed inconspicuously next to the adjacent wall. Light builds momentum in the same way that the sound crescendos. A projected disc of light that travels from the screen to yet more foam padded wall reminds me of the rise and fall of the sun and thus the inevitability of passing time. Towards the middle of the room positioned at an angle atop two speakers sits a mirrored coffee table inverted to form a cube with a reflective interior. Smoke billows from within and a laser, ingeniously triggering soundtracks, beams through the haze. This offering, alongside the strobe, video footage and the heavy, repetitive soundtrack alludes strongly to club culture. It is easy to see how Mirza's experience as a DJ manifests here. The combined elements of the installation give a sense of nostalgic euphoria and I am reminded of fellow Winchester graduate, Darren Almond's If I had You, 2003 (nominated for the 2005 Turner Prize) in which music video worked together to convey the passing of time and the power of memory.

The final stage of the exhibition, upstairs and aptly titled Backfade_5, 2011, has an oddly comforting affect after the vehemence of the other exhibits. It slows down a bit up here and at the forefront of the audio is a rhythmic drum beat and a low repetitive tone. The room houses Mirza's replicas of Fred Sandback's minimalist sculptures in LED strips and electrical cable. Mirza spent time going through archives of Sandback's work and came across a document detailing how work should be installed in a gallery. This is said to have lead him to a more minimal approach to installation in general. The shift towards minimalism is echoed in the accompanying sound which, at the last stage in the exhibition, weighs primarily on a drum beat.

What strikes me most about the exhibition is the sense that each individual component is both a conceptual object in its own right as well as a cog in a much larger functioning machine. To view the exhibition certainly feels as though you are inside a mechanism, an instrument, the inner workings of a mind. As stated in the press release the show intended to explore “moments in social and cultural history and their points of intersection with aural traditions and music”. Mirza has used not only music to prompt us to relate to moments in time but also visual markers which help us to establish our reference points. Just as social and cultural events merge together to form history the separate components in the exhibition appear to work together to present an idea of the seemingly infinite and overlapping concept of time.

Until Sat Mar 19
Lisson Gallery,
52-54 Bell St,
London NW1 5DA

Transport Edgware Road
Telephone 020 7724 2739
http://www.lissongallery.com

10am-6pm Mon-Fri, 11am-5pm Sat

Daisy Teage is a Fine Art graduate based in Oxford

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