She reassured claustrophobics
and said there was low-rise accommodation available for vertigo sufferers.
In Shelley's own The Cube, 2001, visitors crawled through a claustrophobic
maze constructed inside the gallery as tiny cameras in the walls took their portraits, creating an experience similar to Buchel's or Schneider's in that the viewer became both physically and psychologically implicated in the work.
From the claustrophobic
cone of Hell, Dante and Virgil move up through the terraces of Purgatory, where the torments are equally graphic and inventive -- the envious have their eyes sewn shut, the proud are weighed down with huge boulders -- but here at least there is the prospect of redemption.
A centrally located but otherwise thankless storefront gallery, Espace Ecureuil, for instance, became the ideal setting for disparate works evoking war: On the street level, Paul Seawright's large-format photos of barren postwar Afghan landscapes (Hidden, 2002) had maximum visibility for passersby, while the low-ceilinged, claustrophobic
basement was fully exploited for Omer Fast's video installation A Tank Translated, 2002, with its true-false interviews of young Israeli soldiers who had served together cooped up in a tank, and Florence Lazar's equally claustrophobic
videos of the ex-Yugoslavia, Femmes en noir (Women in Black), 2002.
Often love -- the politicization of love -- is so claustrophobic
for people on any side of the equation.
The pale blue-green light that seems to seep through from some unspecifiable distance helps convey the sense of a muffled yet not quite extinguished consciousness-a druggy state that is claustrophobic
, uncanny, even frightening, yet seductive.
My favorite, perhaps, is another Hartford, 1980: A man wearing only shorts sands a ceiling of claustrophobic
lowness, his gesture reflected in a dust-covered polygonal mirror set on a radiator behind him.
Comprising seven galleries on two floors, a small bookstore and design shop, and the aforementioned cafe, the Neue Galerie, with its apt proportions and self-sufficient scale, paradoxically avoids claustrophobic
When I recently paid a visit to Gregor Schneider's Dead House ur in the small German town of Rheydt, an hour away from Cologne, that distant sensation--part curiosity, part fear of being trapped in a claustrophobic
space--came back in full force.