Raja Feather Kelly’s Hysteria (2020), presented online as a part of Portland Institute for Contemporary Art’s Time-Based Art Festival, begins with various scrolling of people dancing and moving in the privacy of their homes, in [seemingly] homemade costumes, and outside before finally ending Kelly in a brightly decorated storefront window. The screen closes in, focusing in on Kelly. Bright neon light fills the window and surrounding area. The small room, which appears to be about the size of a utility closet, overflowing with party props: mylar decorations against the walls move and reflect the light, shag carpeting, sequined fabric, fake ivy, it even appears that Kelly is painted pink. It is so flooded with pink that my eyes are forced to adjust to this new environment, even on a small screen. When looking away from the performance, I was shocked back to reality and my eyes needed to readjust. 

Sound plays a significant role throughout the piece. There is a pulse that weaves its way throughout. It drops in and out, pounding along to the lights, the video screen and the music ranges from well-known movie studio intro music, snippets of pop songs, original music and Kelly’s own voice that twists and turns from subtle shifts in sound to shocking glass-shattering screams to near silence within the piece’s thirty-five minutes. 

But what is key here is movement. In the beginning of the performance, Kelly reads from a book explaining what we are about to witness: “this is an exorcism.” There is a sense of fear at the beginning, enhanced by the pulsating sounds and Kelly’s formal announcement of the process. There is a sense that something will invade our bodies or already has. I found myself nodding or toe-tapping with Kelly with these familiar songs. We, the other anonymous viewers and I, experience this exorcism through our own small movements.

Within the short clips of songs; the underlying, mesmerizing beat; Kelly’s own range of movements, from still, to faint, to energetic jolts—Kelly makes and unmakes something unnamable. About halfway through the video, there is a literal breaking point. The lighting becomes increasingly intense. It’s not just the neon lights in the small room that begin to flash but the video itself becomes more intense until the screen splits into six parts, the only time Kelly uses the full. This all culminates with a Kelly lip-syncing a full song in a dramatic and powerful finalé. The performance’s small space—both in the window and on my screen—allows for a broken resolution. Slow, deliberate movements let us see from Kelly’s perspective, as if we are the spirits to be exorcised.

Like a hypnotism, Hysteria offers a mesmerizing and transformative experience both mentally and physically.