Andrius Arutiunian
The work of Andrius Arutiunian examines the relationship between rituals, history, deep time, and repetition. Speculative Armenian-Zoroastrian mythologies, vernacular knowledge, and contemporary politics resonate in this double set of works.
Walking through the space, viewers enter an entrancing and hallucinogenic 52-minute-long analog film. Shot in the ancient riverbed near the hydro town of Jermuk in Armenia, the film is a homage to Michael Snow’s 1967 legendary film Wavelength. In tune with Snow’s film, the camera’s perpetual zoom allows it to scan layers of rocks, minerals, and geological formations set to a slowly rising soundtrack. In End Pull, the camera is placed at the top of a valley stretching many kilometers, known for its mineral and healing waters. It is a place that is marked by recent political and ecological turmoil — extraction of gold in the nearby corporate mine which has poisoned the mountain rivers, as well as artillery shelling during the recent Azerbaijan-Armenian war.
These historical and political events are articulated by two off-screen voices heard throughout the film — the ancient Armenian demons Hārut and Mārut. In different religious accounts, these demons are associated with water, plants, infinity, and renewal. They are also known for inventing fiction, magic, and the distillation of intoxicating substances, such as alcohol and perfumes. In End Pull, Hārut and Mārut appear in a time where they do not belong, awoken by nearby artillery blasts and gold mine excavations. The intimate dialogue of the two demons and the rising mass of sound syncopates into a delirious and disjointed space-time. The story reconnects us with the entry point to the installation that features sculptural objects made of found objects. Here, the artist explores how natural elements act as filters, responding to different frequencies and resonating with the film’s themes. Together, all parts of the installation create a sonic and poetic echo system, much like the mythic duo of Hārut and Mārut.
The work reflects how history, politics, and poetics influence the way we perceive the concept of “surface” — of both the earth and the film itself. It hints at presences hidden beneath the ground and gently lulls the viewer into a trance-like state. The scars of this exploitation of the underground deposits remain visible — some slowly overgrown by nature, others marked by fresh wounds to the landscape.
The work of Andrius Arutiunian examines the relationship between rituals, history, deep time, and repetition. Speculative Armenian-Zoroastrian mythologies, vernacular knowledge, and contemporary politics resonate in this double set of works.
Walking through the space, viewers enter an entrancing and hallucinogenic 52-minute-long analog film. Shot in the ancient riverbed near the hydro town of Jermuk in Armenia, the film is a homage to Michael Snow’s 1967 legendary film Wavelength. In tune with Snow’s film, the camera’s perpetual zoom allows it to scan layers of rocks, minerals, and geological formations set to a slowly rising soundtrack. In End Pull, the camera is placed at the top of a valley stretching many kilometers, known for its mineral and healing waters. It is a place that is marked by recent political and ecological turmoil — extraction of gold in the nearby corporate mine which has poisoned the mountain rivers, as well as artillery shelling during the recent Azerbaijan-Armenian war.
These historical and political events are articulated by two off-screen voices heard throughout the film — the ancient Armenian demons Hārut and Mārut. In different religious accounts, these demons are associated with water, plants, infinity, and renewal. They are also known for inventing fiction, magic, and the distillation of intoxicating substances, such as alcohol and perfumes. In End Pull, Hārut and Mārut appear in a time where they do not belong, awoken by nearby artillery blasts and gold mine excavations. The intimate dialogue of the two demons and the rising mass of sound syncopates into a delirious and disjointed space-time. The story reconnects us with the entry point to the installation that features sculptural objects made of found objects. Here, the artist explores how natural elements act as filters, responding to different frequencies and resonating with the film’s themes. Together, all parts of the installation create a sonic and poetic echo system, much like the mythic duo of Hārut and Mārut.
The work reflects how history, politics, and poetics influence the way we perceive the concept of “surface” — of both the earth and the film itself. It hints at presences hidden beneath the ground and gently lulls the viewer into a trance-like state. The scars of this exploitation of the underground deposits remain visible — some slowly overgrown by nature, others marked by fresh wounds to the landscape.
