DOOM Takes Over the Park Avenue Armory, With a Hint of Hope

The lengthy three hours are documented by a clock in red that counts down the event, not unlike the clock at Matthew Barney’s former studio on the East River, counting down Trump’s last day in office from 2017-2020.

For the duration of Doom, the crowds move through the hall in what looks like a concert venue, following directional spotlights each time they illuminate a new act. Imhof takes those present and mostly standing on a raucous ride of love and heartache interjected with reminders of life and death. 

There are many references ranging from Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet (the Baz Lurhmann version) to scripted texts and songs from nearly every music genre. In fact, many people left the Armory humming along to Radiohead’s “Talk Show Host," 1996.

The message of DOOM: House of Hope is clear and flashes across the screen as the clock runs out—“If everything else fails, I myself have the power to die.” 

The evident melancholia is met with brief moments of levity: ballet dancers, Gen Zs posing in the back of a Cadillac taking iPhone photos, a riot grrl-esque band performing for fans in a mosh pit. The flurry of movement and rapidly changing stylistic choices could be at once seen as chaotic, but transcends chaos in favor of aesthetics and timing made for those used to scrolling and trolling. There is an uneasy relationship closely connected to the internet. 

For elder millennials and Gen Xers, the nostalgia and cultural frankness around death—i.e. Pearl Jam’s video for Jeremy, 1991 and Christian Slater’s troubled character in Heathers, 1988—were present. The gestures harken back to the grunge movement in a way that only someone like Anne Imhof, who was born in 1978, could interpret. Doom wouldn’t exist without Joan Jonas (who was present), Tino Sehgal, or even the frenetic videos by artist Ryan Trecartin in the early aughts. 

However existential the work appears—and indeed it does—a shimmer of hope spills through, in part by the ballet dancers who leap across one of several stages. Their bodies and movements are accompanied by Imhof’s partner Eliza Douglas’ singing. Here, we are reminded of sustenance. If nostalgia is the driving force, let’s be reminded that it only exists because of living life full, glorious, and occasionally shrouded in darkness.