I've been looking forward to Mesmerica for a while, ever since seeing its trailer on YouTube. I've been to the imax and have used a PSVR headset but never been to one of these domes ceiling projected film thingies but it sounded cool so I thought why not? I bought tickets for myself and my family and we planned to see it over the weekend in Plymouth at the Market Hall.

Mesmerica, John Wood's 45-minute immersive experience, is a fascinating journey through abstract visuals that left me captivated. For someone who appreciates the intricate beauty of sacred geometry, the ever-unfolding patterns and precise symmetries were a constant delight. The way the visuals evolved often brought to mind the organic complexity of fractals, each new iteration revealing deeper layers of detail and repetition, like a scene from Satoshi Kon's Paprika (which inspired Christopher Nolan's Inception) or Control (inspired by the non-Euclidian house motif explored in Danielewski's House of Leaves).

There were moments where the pulsating rhythms and swirling colours felt like a hyper-modern callback to classic Winamp visuals, particularly the more dynamic and energetic presets such as Milk Drop. Now that's a blast from the past, right? But for those of us who remember the even simpler joys of early computing, the show occasionally evoked the mesmerizing, endlessly looping patterns of an old skool Windows screensaver, albeit on a vastly grander and more sophisticated scale than something like starfield. It was a nostalgic trip wrapped in a futuristic package.

My youngest child was equally enthralled, utterly lost in the vibrant spectacle. However, my wife and eldest had a different experience. While acknowledging the visual artistry, they found the intensity of the colours a bit overwhelming and the synthetic nature of what was visualised caused them some anxiety. This really highlights the different strokes for different folks aspect of Mesmerica.

For me, and clearly for my youngest, Mesmerica was a truly wonderful and unique visual meditation. If you're someone who is drawn to the interplay of complex patterns, geometric precision, and an intense sensory experience, you'll likely find it as captivating as I did. But if you're sensitive to strong visual stimuli, it might be a little too much so might not be as worthwhile.

Overall, it was a yes from half of my family and no from the other half. That's not useful but there it is!

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LINK- ‘Natives: Race and Class in the Ruins of Empire’ LINK: Elden Ring- Videogames As Art

Many people seek out art, music, nature, or even certain stories, hoping to find that deeper connection—that feeling of being transported. It's a desire for something that isn't just consumed but deeply felt until it almost becomes an integral part of you – for me, this is the idea of soaring through clouds at incredible speed. It’s been my personal benchmark ever since for what I look for in art and experiences. Let me explain…

I can trace that dream back to a specific moment: a scene from the 1995 anime series, Macross Plus. There’s a scene where Isamu Dyson, a test pilot, is on a flight in a new craft, and he's subtly drawn into a hypnotic trance by a rogue piece of AI, Sharon Apple. As Yoko Kanno's music swells (and seriously, her work is transcendent!), the visuals and sound just blend together into this unbelievably beautiful, utterly entrancing experience. Dyson almost falls for the lucid dream but manages to save himself just in time but that moment really stuck with me; it was a powerful reminder of how media can go beyond being a disposable form of entertainment and actually change you in a deeply profound way.

Ever since, I've been hooked on the idea of synesthesia – that cool blurring of the senses where you can practically see the sound and feel the vision. For me, it's a direct pathway to something truly transcendental. That's why Tetsuya Mizuguchi's games speak to me on such a deep level. Rez and Child of Eden weren’t just games you played; they were experiences you felt. They wrapped you in this incredible tapestry of light and sound, creating a feedback loop of sensation that somehow elevated the everyday into something sublime. You didn’t just hear the music; you become part of its rhythm, its pulse echoing right in your core.

Then virtual reality entered the picture with PSVR and my experiences with Rez Infinite and Tetris Effect were kicked up to another level entirely. They weren't just games anymore; they were as close as I’ve gotten to a spiritual awakening, (separate from things like prayer or fasting). This craving for transformative media wasn’t limited to gaming, though. The deeply immersive and often meditative compositions of Pauline Oliveros's Deep Listening, along with the vast, evocative soundscapes from Jean Michel Jarre and Mike Oldfield, consistently hit that same spot of profound sonic escape. The Euphoria albums that gained prominence in the mid to late 90s often sent me to that sublime space and this was without the use of any drugs (I’m a tea-totaller and have always been drugs free). Visually, the Surrealist art of Dorothea Tanning and Leonora Carrington, with their dreamy, symbolic imagery, unlocked subconscious connections and conjured a sense of uncanny wonder that perfectly mirrored my waking dream experiences. And, perhaps most powerfully, David Lynch's entire body of work, especially Twin Peaks, masterfully built worlds that hinted at hidden dimensions and spiritual undertones, pushing the boundaries of traditional storytelling to deliver that same deeply resonant, sometimes unsettling, transcendental experience I've always looking for.

So, it probably won't surprise you that when I was scrolling through my Facebook feed recently, an ad for James Woods' Mesmerica made me stop scrolling completely. It looked like the real-life version of that pivotal Macross Plus scene – a promise of visual and auditory immersion designed to lull you into a state of heightened awareness, maybe even a waking dream. It felt like the perfect next step in a long search, an answer to that persistent craving for something beyond the ordinary.

Much to my wife's bemusement (she probably figured it was just another weird show/ exhibition/film I'd be dragging her to), I immediately bought tickets for my family and me. But for me, this isn't just a night out; it's almost like a pilgrimage, with a journey to blessed Plymouth - which is almost an hour away from my home.

It's a journey to chase that elusive feeling of soaring through the clouds, that sensation of being pulled into a transcendent state where the boundaries of the self just dissolve and something almost spiritual takes hold. My expectation isn't just to be entertained; it's to have an experience that resonates with the deepest parts of my being, fulfilling that enduring dream of synesthetic transcendence. I'm genuinely buzzing for the moment Mesmerica begins, hoping it will once again allow me to truly fly. No pressure then James Wood!

LINK: Japan: My Journey to the East

LINK- Pure Invention: How Japan's Pop Culture Conquered the World- Book Review (and Personal Reflections)

LINK- The Rise of Retro Gaming During Covid

LINK- Blood, Sweat and Pixels- Book Review

LINK- On And On And Colston ( Or, How We Kinda Sort of Learned to Talk About the Legacy of Colonialism and the British Empire)

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