Lindsay Costello by Lindsay Costello Early this year, Spanish marine research organization Condrik Tenerife shared what may be the first recorded footage of a black seadevil anglerfish in daylight, near the ocean’s surface. The to othy species, famous for its bioluminescent lure, typically spends its entire life navigating darkness thousands of feet below sea level—which lent this particular anglerfish’s ascent a sort of heartwrenching magic, despite the fact that she likely made the trip due to stress or illness. “It’s so beautiful,” a comic’s depiction of a similar deep sea fish mused, gazing toward the sunset. “I might never have known.” While 4th Floor to Mildness predates the little anglerfish’s journey, Swiss experimental artist Pipilotti Rist’s installation similarly contemplates the emotional terrain of a skyward gaze from underwater. On view at the Portland Art Museum’s Crumpacker Center for New Art through the end of January, this installation of 4th Floor—curated by the museum’s senior curator of Modern and Contemporary Art, Sara Krajewski—is also its West Coast premiere. The work was originally created in 2016 for the fourth floor of New York’s New Museum of Contemporary Art, hence the name. Buffered in thick floor-to-ceiling curtains, the darkened installation requires that visitors remove their shoes. 4th Floor offers an unusual opportunity to get horizontal in the gallery—beds punctuate the space like floating rafts or driftwood. Constructed in muted earth tones by Portland Garment Factory, I noticed the firmness and thick, resilient quality of the pillows and mattresses. My senses felt heightened in the dark. Mounted on the ceiling, two “biomorphic-shaped” (read: wiggly) screens depict an underwater scene and the world just beyond it. Netted diamonds of sunlight dance across the water’s surface, and body parts, aquatic plants, and fallen leaves drift in and out of view.   Installation view, Pipilotti Rist: 4th Floor to Mildness. LINDSAY COSTELLO  The film is scored, at first, by the soothing, organic gurgle of its aquatic environment. But that immersive, lulling quality is soon interrupted by experimental Austrian musician Anja Plaschg, aka SoapSkin, whose song “Spiracle” pierces the atmosphere with mournful lyrics and plunking piano. Somehow both serene and discordant, Plaschg’s voice falls somewhere between Karin Dreijer Andersson and Regina Spektor in tone, aching: “When I was a child/ Fears pushed me hard/In my head/ …please help me.” There on the bed, as I stared up at the looping film’s scattered sunlight, I stopped thinking about plant life, the body, and the elements. My focus shifted to the song. Rist’s musical choice brought up questions. Did this installation reference her childhood? What should the visitor gather from the sorrowful quality of the lyrics? Why was SoapSkin pleading—”please help me”—amid so much tranquility? Someone in the room mused that the song might have been included to prevent visitors from falling asleep in the dark installation, or to punctuate the beginning and ending of the looping film. If so, it still felt like an unusual choice given 4th Floor’s stated aims. The exhibition statement shares that “for the artist, the work ‘describes the fantasy of [ourselves] being an organic plant… and simulates our dissolution into water, mud, slime, molecules and atoms.’” Further, the sensation of floating while lying down “may evoke a sense of returning to an elemental state.” 4th Floor begins to develop this lush organic fantasy, but then it’s interrupted. What works well in 4th Floor is its unconventional stretching of the social contract. The visitor is invited to lie on a bed in the dark, surrounded by strangers, and stare up; they “don't have to stand or fight gravity,” said Rist. This dynamic creates an interesting new opportunity for public vulnerability, and for the visitor to safely sense their body in relation to the others in the room. 4th Floor‘s visual sense also feels considered and painterly—Impressionism informed the underwater video work, which Rist described as "Monet's Nympheas from the other side." It’s a fitting choice for an institution that unveiled a glowy restoration of Monet’s Waterlilies earlier this year. Still, questions dangle in the installation’s balance of sensory input, floaty repose, and social experimentation. Hung against a dark curtain on the exit path back into the museum, a neon sign restated one of SoapSkin’s lyrics: “Help me.” How can we help?, I wondered. Rist never told us. Pipilotti Rist: 4th Floor to Mildness is on view at Portland Art Museum, 1219 SW Park, through Fri Jan 29, 2027, Tues-Sun 10 am-5 pm, $0-$27.50, portlandartmuseum.org. ...read more read less