Sébastien Labrunie — Brèche
Reviewed by Leah Davis

“Watching Brèche is what I imagine dying feels like.” Those are my notes from the first five minutes of Electronic Dimension, a series of 21 experimental animations, new media, and video art pieces from local, national, and international artists curated by Boston Cyberarts for WaveForms 2023. What I mean, though, is that this is what I imagine the act of death — those last moments of beautiful awareness between agency and oblivion — must feel like for a fading consciousness. It’s a heavy thought for somebody sitting in the Boston Museum of Science’s Mugar Omni Theater with 300 strangers, but not a sad one. Sébastien Labrunie’s digital masterpiece is awe-inspiring. We begin, surrounded by darkness and uncertainty. In the distance, a light appears. A sun? It pulls me gravitationally forward; I’m moving and I am not moving. Like everyone else in the theater, I am glued to my vertiginous seat, compelled to experience immersion without agency. I can barely move except to watch our steady progress forward; we are not in a hurry. This is inevitable. Spiderweb threads of light bloom in the foreground before exploding as supernova skyscapes. In my mind, these are my memories’ last hurrah. Moments transcribed as sparking synapses; fireworks of experience that are at once universal and personal. I went into Brèche blind, unaware of Labrunie’s original intent. But his description strikes a chord: “Brèche is a dive through matter, light and memories, within a 30 days photogrammetric journal of real life 3D scans. An hybrid abstract narrative sculpture made of memories and matter where macro and micro point of views become indistinguishable, where past moments and places interconnect.” Brèche is digital art, yes. A sketch made with data. But it’s the closest I’ve come to the divine in a long, long time.