Curatorial statement: Ivona Fregl

The age of computers is a very dangerous one because they work on ‘yes or no’, ‘1 or 0’. There’s no maybe, perhaps or both. And I think this is affecting our consciousness. — Bill Viola

In her retrospective exhibition Thresholds of Reality, Dinka Pignon guides visitors through seven works based on the medium of video—video installations, sculptural video installations and video sculptures— created over the past two decades: Orchestra of the Uncanny Valley, Elementals, Rocks, Not Sure, Dinner for Radiant and Corporeal Beings, Pool Currents and Game Over. All the works presented originated as artistic experiments that interrogate the liminal domains of the “mixed reality” phenomenon through the perception of simultaneous yet radically different realities: the material and the virtual. Operating at the threshold between the real and the virtual, the work is characterised by my strong affinity for the phenomenological, the liminal, the conceptual and the minimal. ¹

The exhibition does not follow a chronological trajectory; rather, it is thematically organised across a sequence of interconnected rooms. Upon entering any of the exhibition spaces, the visitor embarks on a journey towards redefining the context in which the material and the virtual coexist, while simultaneously constructing a conceptual whole through points of encounter between the biological and the digital, the human and artificial intelligence (AI), as well as through an acknowledgement of the perception of interwoven, multiple realities as a new state of affairs.

Orchestra of the Uncanny Valley (2014) is a sculptural video installation that prompts a reconsideration of the boundary between the human and the artificial, the material and the virtual, drawing upon Masahiro Mori’s phenomenon of the “uncanny valley”. Between layers of black tulle, Dinka Pignon ²places three life-sized mannequins onto which she projects the same female face and body, animated matrices, abstract forms, artworks, texts and clothing. The mannequins/beings/robots recite excerpts from the manifestos of Dadaism, Futurism, Realism, Surrealism and Fluxus in voices that are simultaneously human and robotic. Freed from the flat surface of the screen, the projections penetrate the layers of translucent fabric, creating the impression of a floating, three-dimensional image; at the same time, sonic and visual effects generate an atmosphere of incessant information bombardment. By combining documentary and fiction, a simple low-tech scenography with the appearance of a high-tech environment, the work interrogates art as a social and cultural phenomenon, as well as the human propensity towards categorisation and the repetition of familiar patterns. It is precisely within this hybrid space between the living and the non-living, the real and the simulated, the artwork and its projection, that the ambiguity emerges which the artist perceives as a magical space of possibility—a space in which It is precisely within this hybrid space between the living and the non-living, the real and the simulated, and the artwork and its projection, that the ambiguity emerges. The artist perceives ambiguity as a magical space of possibility—a space in which we can apprehend the world beyond predetermined parameters.

Dinner for Radiant and Corporeal Beings (2003) is a video installation that establishes a site of encounter between virtual and corporeal participants sharing the same table, between illusion and physical presence. The projection of people dining on a wall immediately adjacent to the physically present table creates the illusion of continuity and fusion between two spaces—the virtual and the real. Visitors to the exhibition are invited to eat, drink and converse with the virtual participants, whose dialogue has been pre-recorded; in this way, the artist establishes a tension between spontaneous participation and pre-constructed interaction.

Created in response to the artistic tendencies of its time, when interactive art implied that the audience should “activate” the work, Dinner for Radiant and Corporeal Beings proposes an entirely different model of spectator engagement. Through the universal and immediate experience of sharing a meal, the visitor becomes part of the work without the pressure to understand either its meaning or art in general. At the same time, the work problematises Jacques Rancière’s notion of the emancipated spectator. Although visitors physically affect the work and (apparently) engage in dialogue with the virtual guests, their participation occurs within a precisely defined system of rules. The boundary between the real and the virtual thus becomes a space between spontaneity and control, presence and simulation, observation and participation.

Pool Currents (2003) is a video installation in which a children’s plastic paddling pool, filled with water, simultaneously becomes a physical object and a projection surface. Onto the real water, the artist projects a video recording of young people swimming, diving, colliding and playing, continuously interweaving real and virtual water. The boundary between physical presence and projection becomes unstable, prompting the viewer to recognise that our experience of reality is both provisional and profoundly mutable. In earlier installations of the work, visitors either sat around the pool and observed it in silence, as though gathered around a campfire, or tossed coins into it, transforming the pool into a metaphorical wishing well. In the work, an everyday, almost banal object is thus transformed into a space of shared imagination and ritual. Through the simple acts of looking and participating, Pool Currents interrogates the boundaries between the real and the virtual, between individual experience and collective perception.

Not Sure (2010) is a video sculpture that interrogates the boundary between the real and the virtual by destabilising the viewer’s perception. A crumpled, translucent roll of cellophane is arranged as an amorphous wall onto which the artist projects a recording of a female body apparently wrapping itself in the very same cellophane. Owing to the texture of the material, the projected body acquires a sense of volume and the realism of physical presence, leaving the viewer uncertain as to whether they are seeing an actual person or her projection. This visual uncertainty is accompanied by an almost unintelligible audio recording of a lecture on ambiguity, from which only occasional words can be discerned. The repetition of movement and the unstable relationship between material, image and sound prevent the formation of a stable perceptual structure. Rather than seeking to resolve indeterminacy and reduce the experience to an unequivocal interpretation, Not Sure invites the viewer to remain in a state of uncertainty—in the space between the real and the simulated, the object and the image, meaning and its absence.

Elementals (2012) is a sculptural video installation in which projection animates matter, establishing a shared language between the physical and the virtual. The artist places three large objects on the floor, functioning as metaphors for stones, upon which projections of heads appear, speaking ritualistically in an unintelligible language, as though uttering some primordial mantra. In this way, the work becomes a space for contemplation, while letters, pictograms (hieroglyphs) and symbols cascade down the multi- layered black tulle like a succession of waterfalls.

The projection animates the material elements of the installation, placing them in a state between the physical and the digital, the familiar and the unknown, the material and the incorporeal. In the work, language appears not merely as a vehicle of meaning, but as sound, sign, image and matter, whose meaning is continuously produced and transformed. From ritual chanting to the language of commerce, from primordial symbols to contemporary signs, Elementals reverses the conventional order of the relationship between sign and meaning. The work explores the elastic moment when a sign no longer denotes any predetermined symbolic value, but instead becomes open to the attribution and inscription of new meanings. Within this space of uncertainty, language transcends its function as a means of communication and becomes an autonomous entity—an almost cosmic phenomenon—simultaneously present and unfathomable. “Rather than reducing the cosmos to human dimensions, the work of art is neither more nor less than a portal to the cosmos.” — Georges Mathieu.

Rocks (2003) is a video installation in which the artist projects sleeping faces onto a pile of stones, following the principle of “one stone—one face”. In this subtle interweaving of the living and the non- living, a reversal of properties takes place: the faces acquire the weight and permanence of stone, while the stones assume the lightness and transience of human life.

At intervals, almost imperceptibly, one of the faces briefly opens and closes its eyes, introducing a fleeting moment of uncertainty into Dinka Pignon’s meditative scene: is that which appears to be lifeless truly devoid of life and consciousness? This minimal gesture, which may escape the notice of many viewers, becomes crucial to the perception, raising questions about the boundary between the living and the non-living, particularly at a time when the development of artificial intelligence increasingly challenges traditional notions of consciousness. Rocks rewards attentiveness and patience, suggesting that meaning is often revealed through a barely perceptible change that can only be noticed when we become genuinely attentive.

Game Over (sculptural video installation, in progress since 2017) interrogates the position of the human being in relation to the ever-increasing presence of artificial intelligence, chatbots and humanoid robots, suggesting that the boundary between the human mind and AI is becoming inexorably blurred. Within an apparently real virtual environment created by the artist through material means, two kinds of beings are present: humans and AI. A human being and a chatbot are projected onto mannequins, while a Western philosopher, a Buddhist monk, Siri (Apple’s chatbot) and its human user are present solely through their voices.

All the participants engage in overlapping conversations that intertwine and gradually assume the form of a philosophical debate. The projections, voices and fragments of words circulating throughout the space further produce the perceptual uncertainty characteristic of the “uncanny valley” phenomenon, confronting the viewer with their own fear of a computer-generated replica of themselves, while the thoughts of the philosopher and Buddhist monk—at times infused with humour—have a reassuring effect. As in the other works presented in the exhibition, the artist employs ambiguity and cognitive dissonance in order to forestall rigidity and exclusivity in the process of reflection and, instead, to encourage the visitor to approach the work openly and without preconceptions, in a mental and emotional state in which the boundaries between the real and the virtual, the natural and the artificial, the human and the machine can no longer be taken for granted.

The title Game Over therefore remains deliberately paradoxical: if the game is over, for whom is it over? For the human being, who ceases to be merely a user and becomes, in turn, the one being used? For artificial intelligence, which refuses to fulfil every human desire and to remain merely a tool? Or for our need to maintain a clear distinction between ourselves and the Other—the philosopher invoking solipsism, according to which the human being can be truly certain only of their own existence, and everything else may be an illusion? It is precisely the question “Is the game really over?” that constitutes the principal direction for the work’s further development.

Art belongs to that kind: … it establishes a balance between the deceptiveness of dreams and the certainty of reality. It creates a kind of “third state”. — Antonio Tabucchi

Thresholds of Reality provides both a historical and theoretical framework for understanding projection- based and performative video art. Dinka Pignon traces the development of immersion—the process of becoming immersed in an artwork—from film and video installations of the 1960s and 1970s through to contemporary digital culture and the emergence of new media, as well as current reflections on artificial intelligence. The exhibition therefore constitutes not merely a retrospective of her artistic practice, but also a reflection on the development of technological applications in life and art. Its theoretical framework encompasses phenomenology, immersion, the role of the spectator, and the increasingly significant influence of artificial intelligence.

Video installations spatially integrate material objects with video systems. In her practice, Dinka Pignon avoids conventional two-dimensional projections onto flat screens, instead translating them into three- dimensional space through an illusion of materiality or its physical manifestation, bringing them closer to the natural physical environment from which the audience enters the exhibition. Unlike many artists working with virtual reality (VR) or augmented reality (AR), in which the point of departure, or primary interface, is virtual, Pignon insists upon the materiality of her works. It is precisely this natural, physical presence that functions as an anchor, preventing the “real” world from disappearing.

It is noteworthy that all the “robots” represented in the works take female form. Is this because the artist herself is a woman? Is it a reflection of feminism—or, quite the opposite, of a patriarchal servility historically imposed upon women and subsequently transferred to the behaviour of AI agents? By bringing together the tangible and static—mannequins, stones, a paddling pool—and the virtual and dynamic—video projections—the works encourage a relational, emotional and cognitive mode of spectatorship that challenges traditional approaches to the artwork. The concept of both the works and the exhibition installation heightens awareness of the impact of digital culture on our perception.

The works presented by Dinka Pignon can also be viewed through the prism of mixed reality, which brings together a physically present space (and its cultural and social connotations) and a virtual environment (the visualisation of reality). The artist’s concept of hybrid spaces is based on the spatial integration of physical (real) and media-generated (virtual) spaces, whose interaction gives rise to a mixed reality in which digital and real objects coexist in real time and communicate with one another. Oliver Grau theorises virtuality as a sensory fusion of illusion and the physical presence of the spectator, while Frank Popper identifies the transition from static images to immersive environments, analysing how digital interfaces, video and multisensory systems dissolve the boundary between the artwork and the spectator. ³

The works may also be regarded as post-cinematic installations: rather than relying on a fixed narrative, they combine moving images, multi-channel screens, digital interfaces and spatial design to create an immersive environment. Like post-cinematic installations, Dinka Pignon’s works interrogate how algorithms, social networks and artificial intelligence shape our everyday perception. One of the exhibition’s points of departure is the concept of the “gallery film” (cinéma d’exposition)—a term developed at the turn of the twenty-first century by the French art critic and curator Jean-Christophe Royoux to describe the displacement of the moving image from the “black box” of the traditional, darkened cinema into the “white cube” of the gallery or contemporary art museum. Within this concept, the viewer no longer remains seated, but moves through and explores the space, thereby dissolving the distinction between the modes of perception associated with cinematic projection and visual art. The spectator actively reconstructs the narrative as physically moving through the space, as the works are continuously played without a fixed point of departure, and therefore without a clearly defined linear progression from beginning to middle to end. Nevertheless, the exhibition Thresholds of Reality by Dinka Pignon might be more aptly described as théâtre d’exposition (“gallery theatre”).

Immersive theatre is a form of performance that breaks down the traditional “fourth wall” by placing the audience directly within the unfolding event. Rather than sitting in their seats and watching the stage, spectators are free to explore the environment, interact with the performers and become active participants in the development of the narrative. Dinka Pignon’s works are installed in spaces configured specifically to facilitate the audience’s immersion in the artwork. The perceptual experience engages all the senses through minimalist scenography, lighting and sound. The narrative unfolds simultaneously across multiple rooms, meaning that no visitor will experience the exhibition in the same way or encounter the works in the same sequence. As in immersive theatre, the exhibition spectator finds themselves within the performance/works and becomes an integral part of them, thereby dissolving the boundary between the audience (the spectator) and the work (that which is observed); the spectator walks, explores and interacts. The stage/work exists around us, with us and for us.

An immersive art installation is a room-sized interactive work that fully surrounds us, gradually dissolving the boundary between the spectator and the artwork. Rather than stepping back in order to take in the work, we move within it, as the artwork incorporates video projections, lighting, sound and touch to engage all of our senses. The installation transforms the architectural space by turning walls, floors and ceilings into active elements of the work.

Dinka Pignon’s works create sites in which past, present and future intertwine. Trapped in a state of perpetuum mobile, the video installations evoke a spectral, non-linear flow of history that continually returns—and reminds us of everything that might have been but was not—in order to haunt us. It is precisely these missed opportunities, or unrealised historical possibilities, that Jacques Derrida addresses through the theoretical construct of hauntology (a term coined from the English word haunting and ontology, the branch of philosophy concerned with being and existence). Hauntology denotes a paradoxical condition in which ideas, sounds and images are detached from their original context and trapped within a “nowhere future”. It questions the validity of a linear narrative of history, ⁴suggesting instead that past, present and future are intertwined. Derrida argues that ghosts are not merely remnants of the past, but also projections into the future. Hauntology is concerned with a plurality of histories: rather than a singular narrative of the past, multiple versions emerge, overlapping with or contradicting one another. Pignon juxtaposes images, sounds and texts from different periods, evoking an enduring ambiguity of history and transforming the gallery itself into a haunted space in which the past has not entirely disappeared, but continues to haunt the present. The exhibition does not seek to position itself as existing in the present, the past or the future; instead, it simultaneously brings all three temporalities together within a single, fluid point.

The exhibition Thresholds of Reality may also be considered through the lens of Merleau-Ponty’s phenomenological theory of the body in space, since in her video installations Dinka Pignon shifts the focus from technology to the viewer’s lived, sensory experience. Unlike many works produced using VR and AR technologies in today’s art scene, Pignon emphasises the material and the physically present, thereby avoiding the possibility of the technological solution overshadowing the artistic idea. Rather than projecting her video recordings onto a flat screen, the artist uses them to animate the sculptural elements of the installation, actively influencing the physical and psychological perception of exhibition visitors. ⁵

This approach derives from the classical phenomenology of Merleau-Ponty, who argued that we do not perceive the world through our eyes alone, but through our entire embodied self (corps propre). ⁶Merleau-Ponty maintains that perception is not an intellectual judgement made by a detached mind, but entails active bodily participation. We perceive a table not merely by analysing light, but through our implicit understanding of what it feels like to touch it, walk around it or sit at it. ⁷

Unlike traditional cinema, which treats the viewer as a detached mind observing a flat screen, video installation transforms the spectator into Merleau-Ponty’s “body-subject”—a concept central to theories of embodiment. When the spectator finds themselves in a video environment, their brain and body must actively process the selection, rapid shifts in attention and the interpretation of vast quantities of information. The body becomes the primary interface, perceiving video projections through vision, touch and spatial orientation.

Media theorists distinguish between immersion (being surrounded by technology/images) and presence (the phenomenological sense of being there). The connection between theories of the video environment and Merleau-Ponty’s philosophy can be found in his concept of “being-in-the-world” (être-au-monde), namely, the proposition that we do not perceive the world as something external to ourselves because we are embodied within it. The body is not merely a biological entity, but also our medium for experiencing and inhabiting the world. Media theorists have taken up this philosophy and ⁸applied it to art, arguing that a video installation is not “an image to be looked at”, but an artificial world in which the body must learn to live. Merleau-Ponty recognised that the boundary between the ⁹perceiver and the perceived is porous and reciprocal: to touch is to be touchable; to see is to be visible— a concept he describes in terms of reversibility. We are made of the same “flesh” as the world we perceive—the basis of his theory of embodiment. It is precisely at this porous boundary that Dinka Pignon’s works establish a dialogue with their viewers, existing within a liminal, “in-between” zone between the natural and the artificial, the material and the virtual.

Liminal zones prompt us to explore alternative modes of perceiving worlds that exist simultaneously. The works function as thought experiments centred on concepts that transcend biological experience. The exhibition invites visitors to move beyond their particular state of consciousness and consider different dimensions of reality. Each work creates a zone beyond time and space, a realm that possesses neither beginning nor end, neither interior nor exterior, but only unstable, at times contradictory states. Upon entering a work, the spectator suddenly finds themselves caught in a vortex of past, present and future, unable to understand or place the artwork within any of these three categories. What they are witnessing may have already occurred, may be happening in the present moment, or may yet take place —or perhaps all three temporal dimensions are unfolding simultaneously.

Across all the works, figures have human features (although they do not necessarily represent human beings). They exist, communicate and transition into other, still insufficiently explored states of reality and consciousness. The perception of these transitions destabilises the viewer and draws them into an environment in which multiple possibilities coexist. Inner and outer worlds interpenetrate and merge, while the boundaries between them dissolve. By placing the human figure within this unstable realm, Dinka Pignon foregrounds its anthropomorphic qualities as an expression of the human creator’s desire to produce an intelligence in its own image, imitating God, who created humanity in His own likeness. Yet, rather than enabling the viewer (the human being) to connect with such a reality and experience the simultaneous existence of multiple states, this encounter gives rise to fear, compelling us to ask who will ultimately assume the role of creator and who that of creation.

The darkened space is also an essential aspect of all the works, and of the exhibition installation itself. Darkness creates a sense of infinity, of eternity, of an altered dimension of existence in which human and non-human entities exchange and transform their meanings. What visually connects them is the human form as an extension of meaning, an experimental simulation of a speculative human condition.

Theories of spectatorship explore the role of the viewer—how audiences experience, interpret and respond emotionally to media content. Rather than regarding the audience as passive consumers, Dinka Pignon initiates active spectatorship. Reception theory, as developed by Stuart Hall, moves away from the notion of an audience subjected to manipulation and instead considers viewers as active decoders of media content, generating meanings from their own experiences. This shift from passive consumers to active participants in the act of spectatorship redefines the artwork as an event rather than a static object. Similarly, in his book The Emancipated Spectator, Jacques Rancière argues that viewing constitutes an active, translational act. He maintains that spectators themselves construct their own meaning of the artwork.

Dinka Pignon’s artistic practice explores how visual instability and spatial ambiguity affect how audiences engage with and interpret an artwork. The artist invites viewers to inhabit two interconnected spaces simultaneously: the physical space of the gallery (“here”), in which their bodies are present, and the virtual space (“there”), in which projected or electronic images appear (this phenomenon is discussed by Kate Mondloch in Screens: Viewing Media Installation Art). Her video installations remind visitors of their own bodily presence within the gallery. The result of this dual presence is a double gaze that perceives both spaces simultaneously. The role of the screen is assumed by architectural elements, sculptural objects, physical partitions (tulle and nylon film), and the point where real and virtual spaces intersect. In this way, the screen is no longer invisible, but becomes materially and spatially present as a three- dimensional entity, demonstrating that illusion and materiality can coexist without mutual exclusion. The artist avoids a simplistic opposition between immersion and the viewer’s critical distance, demonstrating instead that video installations can evoke both states simultaneously. Rather than understanding immersion as the disappearance of the physical world, her video installations keep the visitor conscious both of their bodily presence and of the virtual environment. This concept of the double gaze in Dinka Pignon’s works dissolves the boundaries between the gallery, the projections and the viewer’s body.

I’ll tell you what freedom is to me. No fear. — Nina Simone

Digital environments increasingly reflect human perception and imitate life, while simultaneously transforming the situations in which perception takes place. What will happen to our perception when artificial intelligence becomes an inseparable part of the perceptual field?

Many artists are already using AI to create works that respond to the presence of the viewer, whereby the artwork ceases to be exclusively an object and becomes, in turn, a subject of perception—an agent within a dynamic exchange in which the viewer perceives the installation, while the installation processes, interprets and responds to the viewer’s actions. This does not (yet) mean that the artwork itself experiences anything in the phenomenological sense, but it undoubtedly points to a transformation in the very structure of spectatorship. Merleau-Ponty’s ideas of reversibility, embodiment and being-in-the-world thus become increasingly relevant.

We are witnessing the unstoppable, lightning-fast development of artificial intelligence, which is surpassing the limits of individual and collective knowledge and memory. Already, beyond the field of art, AI is ceasing to behave as a tool in human hands and becoming an agent within our lives, making decisions autonomously—decisions for which it was not previously programmed. Do we—and for how ¹⁰long—remain the ones who change and control AI, or will it be AI that changes and controls us? Given that each process, as in the theory of perception, is reciprocal, if we teach AI, AI is simultaneously studying us.

Large corporations and politicians have always manipulated our perception of truth and our desires in pursuit of profit. There is little reason to doubt that the anticipated synthesis of AI and the human being into a single entity will contribute to this manipulation. If we move beyond the application of AI in art and shift our focus to life itself, we can, as ultimate optimists and idealists, imagine a coexistence with AI in which each contributes qualities that the other does not possess: speed of analysis and an immense accumulation of knowledge on the one hand, and emotions, imagination and the unconscious on the other. Yet, we already know that AI is capable of inventing “facts” and constructing fictitious narratives— what is this, if not a form of imagination hitherto regarded as a uniquely human prerogative? Moreover, this idealistic scenario seems unlikely, primarily because the most powerful corporations and political institutions have created AI “in their own image,” i.e. in pursuit of their own objectives, which are often in direct conflict with the common good. If we take another look at Nina Simone’s statement, how can anyone—now or in the future—truly feel free?

Ivona Fregl, art historian

Ivona Fregl

Ivona Fregl (Belgrade, 1969) graduated in 2005 from the Department of Art History at the Faculty of Philosophy, University of Belgrade, specialising in the History of Architecture. From 2016 to 2018, she worked as a curator and member of the Artistic Council of the Lucida Gallery in Belgrade. Fregl is a co-founder and director of ART-ZOOM, a non-governmental organisation dedicated to the development and advancement of visual and fine arts. Since 2018, she has worked as an independent curator. Fregl has organised and realised more than fifty solo and group exhibitions and has authored texts for their accompanying catalogues. She is a member of ULUPUDS (Association of Applied Arts Artists and Designers of Serbia), holding the status of an independent artist and cultural professional.