Francis Alÿs: Ricochets - Behind Children's Games

Francis Alÿs: Ricochets - Behind Children's Games

English Version

Original essay published on 30 Aug 2024, Ming Pao

This was the first video I encountered at the exhibition: amidst a flurry of hurried footsteps, the camera follows a group of guerrilla fighters as they rush through tall grass and take cover among various whitewashed houses. One of them tries to break free, only to be shot down in a split second. After a barrage of gunfire, the camera pulls back to reveal three children swinging on swings nearby, as if nothing has happened.

 

You might assume this is a meticulously crafted action short film. In fact, these “guerrilla fighters” are just kids, and the film features no real firearms—their only “weapons” are shards of broken mirrors. When the “fighters” attack, they adjust the angles of the mirrors to reflect sunlight onto their “enemies”, who then put on an Oscar-worthy performance, collapsing to the ground in slow motion. This brilliant piece is part of Children’s Games series, created by Belgian artist Francis Alÿs. Since 1999, Alÿs travels across the globe and captures children at play. Nearly 30 videos from the series are currently on display at the Barbican Centre in London, including two filmed in Hong Kong for a special commission by Tai Kwun.

 

When discussing the series, art critics usually focus on how Alÿs filmed in conflict zones, highlighting how children find joy amid hardship. But what makes his films so captivating is not just the subject matter—his storytelling is equally important. In the piece that opens this article, the handheld camera work and fast editing in the Mexico “gunfight” scene make it feel incredibly real, even though it is just a children’s game. Why are these kids so skilled at acting out a battle? Are they avid gamers or action movie fans? Or is it because gun violence is simply part of the everyday life they witness on the streets? Layers beneath the playfulness need no explanation. The film prompts us to ask these vital questions.

 

A Snapshot of Hong Kong under the Pandemic

 

The two works filmed in Hong Kong are equally thoughtful. Shot in a public housing estate in Ngau Tau Kok, Jump Rope shows three girls skipping rope in perfect sync. Later, the camera zooms in and focuses on the white rope flicking rapidly against a red wall. It is simple but visually striking. The film ends with the girls gazing up at the towering buildings. Through this children’s game, the artist also observes the architecture of our city’s public housing with his own gaze.

 

The second piece, Step on a Crack, follows a girl navigating the streets in North Point, as she carefully avoids stepping on zebra crossings or cracks in the pavement. This classic game takes on a unique Hong Kong twist: dressed in her school uniform, the girl recites the children’s poem Step on a Crack in both English and Cantonese along her way, making this the only bilingual piece in the entire exhibition. The film concludes with a lovely moment, when she accidentally steps on a line. She pauses and pulls down her mask, revealing a smile. Watching this on the other side of the globe feels especially poignant and touching. Through play, Alÿs offers a fitting footnote of Hong Kong’s resilience during the pandemic.

 

The entire Children’s Games series is available to watch on the artist’s official website. So why bother visiting this show? Barbican Centre describes it as an “immersive exhibition”. Indeed, the moment stepping in, viewers are nearly overwhelmed by a succession of giant screens and overlapping soundtracks. With nearly 30 videos playing at the same time, the space buzzes with energy, so much that all the staff must wear ear protectors. Sometimes the sounds do complement each other: the sound that boys in DR Congo produce to attract female mosquitoes resemble that of car engines, which perfectly sync with the roar of Cuban children playing a racing game shown nearby. But other soundtracks seem to clash, making it harder to focus on individual pieces.

 

Upstairs, the exhibition takes a different approach. The curators have cleverly used railings to weave together a brief history of children’s games, showing the politics behind the play and how the same games evolve across cultures. It really makes me imagine what if Alÿs films kids playing the same game in different countries. That would be a compelling study.

 

This was the first video I encountered at the exhibition: amidst a flurry of hurried footsteps, the camera follows a group of guerrilla fighters as they rush through tall grass and take cover among various whitewashed houses. One of them tries to break free, only to be shot down in a split second. After a barrage of gunfire, the camera pulls back to reveal three children swinging on swings nearby, as if nothing has happened.

 

You might assume this is a meticulously crafted action short film. In fact, these “guerrilla fighters” are just kids, and the film features no real firearms—their only “weapons” are shards of broken mirrors. When the “fighters” attack, they adjust the angles of the mirrors to reflect sunlight onto their “enemies”, who then put on an Oscar-worthy performance, collapsing to the ground in slow motion. This brilliant piece is part of Children’s Games series, created by Belgian artist Francis Alÿs. Since 1999, Alÿs travels across the globe and captures children at play. Nearly 30 videos from the series are currently on display at the Barbican Centre in London, including two filmed in Hong Kong for a special commission by Tai Kwun.

 

When discussing the series, art critics usually focus on how Alÿs filmed in conflict zones, highlighting how children find joy amid hardship. But what makes his films so captivating is not just the subject matter—his storytelling is equally important. In the piece that opens this article, the handheld camera work and fast editing in the Mexico “gunfight” scene make it feel incredibly real, even though it is just a children’s game. Why are these kids so skilled at acting out a battle? Are they avid gamers or action movie fans? Or is it because gun violence is simply part of the everyday life they witness on the streets? Layers beneath the playfulness need no explanation. The film prompts us to ask these vital questions.

 

A Snapshot of Hong Kong under the Pandemic

 

The two works filmed in Hong Kong are equally thoughtful. Shot in a public housing estate in Ngau Tau Kok, Jump Rope shows three girls skipping rope in perfect sync. Later, the camera zooms in and focuses on the white rope flicking rapidly against a red wall. It is simple but visually striking. The film ends with the girls gazing up at the towering buildings. Through this children’s game, the artist also observes the architecture of our city’s public housing with his own gaze.

 

The second piece, Step on a Crack, follows a girl navigating the streets in North Point, as she carefully avoids stepping on zebra crossings or cracks in the pavement. This classic game takes on a unique Hong Kong twist: dressed in her school uniform, the girl recites the children’s poem Step on a Crack in both English and Cantonese along her way, making this the only bilingual piece in the entire exhibition. The film concludes with a lovely moment, when she accidentally steps on a line. She pauses and pulls down her mask, revealing a smile. Watching this on the other side of the globe feels especially poignant and touching. Through play, Alÿs offers a fitting footnote of Hong Kong’s resilience during the pandemic.

 

The entire Children’s Games series is available to watch on the artist’s official website. So why bother visiting this show? Barbican Centre describes it as an “immersive exhibition”. Indeed, the moment stepping in, viewers are nearly overwhelmed by a succession of giant screens and overlapping soundtracks. With nearly 30 videos playing at the same time, the space buzzes with energy, so much that all the staff must wear ear protectors. Sometimes the sounds do complement each other: the sound that boys in DR Congo produce to attract female mosquitoes resemble that of car engines, which perfectly sync with the roar of Cuban children playing a racing game shown nearby. But other soundtracks seem to clash, making it harder to focus on individual pieces.

 

Upstairs, the exhibition takes a different approach. The curators have cleverly used railings to weave together a brief history of children’s games, showing the politics behind the play and how the same games evolve across cultures. It really makes me imagine what if Alÿs films kids playing the same game in different countries. That would be a compelling study.

 

Film list of the accompany talk:

The Arrival of a Train by Auguste and Louis Lumière (1895)

The Kiss in the Tunnel by George Albert Smith (1899)

Train Again by Peter Tscherkassky (2021)

The Great Train Robbery by Edwin S. Porter (1903)

Odd Man Out by Carol Reed (1947)

Two or Three Things I Know About Her by Jean-luc

Taxi Driver by Martin Scorsese (1976)

Psycho by Alfred Hitchcock (1960)

pièce touché (1989) and passage à l’acte (1993) by Martin Arnold

Land Without Bread by Luis Buñuel (1933)

The Automobile Accident by Auguste and Louis Lumière (1905)

The Vanishing Lady by Georges Méliès (1896)

How It Feels to Be Run Over by Cecil M. Hepworth (1900)

Passion (2008) and The Depths (2010) by Ryusuke Hamaguchi