My parents went to Venice and all I got was this lousy...

 

My parents went to Venice and all I got was this lousy youth-sized Brazilian t-shirt of a dead man in a beach chair from a 1971 movie based on a German novella featuring an aristocratic Polish adolescent conceptualized by a third-generation Italian from New York who had to sleep with the obsessed South Korean immigrant to get it made on May 5, 2009, 2009, silkscreen and heat transfer on youth t-shirt. Project for Culture Kiosk/Souvenir Art/Markers 7, International Artists’ Museum Artura/Projective for Détournement, 2009 Venise, a collateral event of the 53rd Venice Biennale presented at ScalaMata Exhibition Space, Venice, Italy. This project is a collaboration with Jennie Jeun Lee.

If a souvenir is a catalyst for a memory of a past experience, then what better way to remember Venice than by considering a corpse? This collaboration utilizes a classic “joke” t-shirt design from the seventies in which a number of different locations are inserted into the sentence formula “My parents went to (someplace) and all I got was this lousy t-shirt.” Regardless of the place referenced in the shirts, they all emphasize the simple disappointment with the shirt received over the experience enjoyed by the parents. In this instance, the specific information and history printed on the shirt is stretched to an unusual level. Luchino Visconti's 1971 film Death in Venice, a story of a famous author’s increasing fixation with a young boy, forms the starting point for a self-reflexive, run-on sentence that incorporates a number of additional details not normally found on souvenir t-shirts. This shirt integrates some of the complexities of its own history, from the origins of its manufacture to the “labor negotiations” required for its production.

The shirt is printed on the front in English and in multiple languages on the inside of the shirt according to the nationalities referenced in the text. This provides a level of specificity; nevertheless, due to the utilization of online translation programs, numerous mistakes occur. The inaccuracies in translation mirror the loss of clarity often found in the bootlegging process as copies move further away from the original source material towards an international audience.

Moreover, the dead man referenced in the shirt’s text – actor Dirk Bogarde from the final scene of Visconti’s film – is not the image on the shirt, rather an image of a different dead man on a beach chair is utilized from the 1989 comedy film Weekend at Bernie's. The substitution of imagery from an entirely different film genre, made in a different country, from a different era, further emphasizes the inauthentic nature of this souvenir.

12.9 miles, 24 minutes; 25.2 miles, 42 minutes; 18.8 miles, 54 minutes; 11.4 miles, 40 minutes

12.9 miles, 24 minutes; 25.2 miles, 42 minutes; 18.8 miles, 54 minutes; 11.4 miles, 40 minutes, 2009, video, color, silent, total running time 3 minutes and 5 seconds. Book: 2009, bound 162 page hardcover book, h 8" x w 10"

12.9 miles, 24 minutes; 25.2 miles, 42 minutes; 18.8 miles, 54 minutes; 11.4 miles, 40 minutes is a 3 minute and 5 second video comprised of one hundred sixty photographs taken consecutively on Friday, February 20, 2009. The images were shot from a fixed position in the back of a car with a digital camera on full automatic mode. All images were made at one-second intervals by means of a timer and the images are displayed in the order in which they were shot with no editing, or retouching. The information at the beginning of the video denotes the distances and times between three different IKEA locations and the information at the conclusion of the video refers to the exact times at which the three IKEA images were made. The book version of this project was conceptualized, executed, and bound within the same day. This project is a collaboration with Anibal J. Pella-Woo.

Untitled (with Kite)

Untitled (with Kite), 2008, video, color, sound, total running time 1 minute and 54 seconds

Collaboration is about having conversations and finding common interests. What better example than flying a kite with a friend and having a couple of beers on a sunny afternoon. However, the piece culminates with the kite’s camera filming a disaster. This project is a collaboration with Ben Washington.

Yalla ya Bascot (Go Biscuits)

Yalla ya Bascot (Go Biscuits), 2008, written text in English and Arabic

In July of 2008, Toleen Touq and I participated in an artist residency in the small town of Shatana in Jordan. While we were being given the initial tour of the town, we heard and briefly saw a car go by in the distance with a speaker attached to its side. The car roamed through the hilly terrain, the speaker repeatedly broadcasting in Arabic the following phrase, "Yalla ya bascot!” (Go biscuits). We decided that this could be the basis for a suitable collaboration, so we started looking for the "biscuit man." Each day we set out and asked anybody that we encountered if they knew anything about the biscuit man. After our daily walks we would sit down and try to recount the people that we met, what they said to us, as well as the visual details of the scene. Gradually, he became a larger than life figure. After much searching, we eventually found him. The text of this piece is a recording of our pursuit, as well as an inadvertent portrait of the town of Shatana. This project is a collaboration with Toleen Touq.

http://www.itch.co.za/

On Tuesday, we started looking for the biscuit man.
We met three children on the road near the church.
One girl had a pink shirt.
One girl had a long neck.
The boy had a deep voice.
We asked them if they had seen the biscuit man.
They said that they had not seen the biscuit man.
They said that there is a shop nearby that sells biscuits.
They said that there was a truck selling watermelon.
They said that they do not know who the biscuit man is.
They said that they do not know when the biscuit man comes.
We walked further into town.

We met a man standing near his pickup truck.
He had a nice face.
He had a nice smile.
He had a gold tooth.
His hair was parted on the side.
We asked him if he had seen the biscuit man.
He said that he had not seen the biscuit man.
He said the biscuit man was from Neimeh.
He said the biscuit man comes every few days.
He said the biscuit man comes at noon, or sunset.
We walked further into town.

We met a man with a keffiyeh.
He had curly gray hair.
We asked him if he had seen the biscuit man.
He said that he had not seen the biscuit man.
We walked further into town.
We met a woman wearing a dark blue dress.
The dress had light blue and white embroidery.
She held Toleen’s hands.
She stroked Toleen’s hands.
She held Toleen’s face in both her hands.
She smiled sweetly to Toleen.
We asked her if she had seen the biscuit man.
She said that she had not seen the biscuit man.
She said that there are biscuits at a shop nearby.
She took us to the shop while holding Toleen’s hand.
She talked about Jesus.
She said that Jesus is in heaven.
She said that Jesus is our savior.
She took us to the shop.
The shopkeeper let us in.
We bought four chocolate bars.
We bought toffee caramel, cream wafer, vanilla wafer, and coconut.
We asked the shopkeeper if she had seen the biscuit man.
She said that she had not seen the biscuit man.
We bought two ice creams from her store.
We walked further into town.

We met a man at the end of a dead end road.
He wore a white djelabiyah.
He rested his left foot on the edge of the balcony.
He held a stick in his hand.
We asked him if he had seen the biscuit man.
He said that he had not seen the biscuit man.
He said that the biscuit man comes every few days.
He asked us to come into his home.
We walked further into town.

We met a woman with a dog.
She was standing in her yard.
She was hanging plastic bags onto her laundry line.
She spoke to us and said, “Come in my loves.”
We asked her if she had seen the biscuit man.
She said that she had not seen the biscuit man.
She said that the biscuit man could be here in one hour.
We walked further into town.

We met a man who was standing in his yard.
He was eating watermelon ice cream.
We asked him if he had seen the biscuit man.
He said that he had not seen the biscuit man.
He said the biscuit man comes every two weeks.
He said the biscuit man comes just once per month.
We walked further into town.

We met two boys who were sitting in a van.
We asked them if they had seen the biscuit man.
They said that they had not seen the biscuit man.
We said, “If you see the biscuit man tell him that we are looking for him.”
We walked further into town.
On the next day, we continued looking for the biscuit man.
We met an older man who was sitting on his porch.
He had long eyebrows.
We asked him if he had seen the biscuit man.
He said to wait while he went and got his son.
We asked his son if he had seen the biscuit man.
He said that he had not seen the biscuit man.
We walked further into town.

We met a boy with a red t-shirt on.
He was standing in his yard.
We asked him if he had seen the biscuit man.
He said that he had not seen the biscuit man.
His mom came out into the yard.
We asked her if she had seen the biscuit man.
She said that she had not seen the biscuit man.
We said, “If you see the biscuit man tell him that we are looking for him.”
We walked further into town.

We met two women sitting on the steps of a house.
There were three children playing nearby.
The woman on the right was wearing black jalabiya.
She was wearing a gold necklace with gold earrings.
The woman on the left was wearing a blue jalabiya.
The little boy wanted to play and fight.
The two women completed each other’s sentences as they talked.
We asked them if they had seen the biscuit man.
They said that they had not seen the biscuit man.
They said that the man with the gold tooth knew the biscuit man.
They said that the biscuit man only comes on Fridays.
We said, “If you see the biscuit man tell him that we are looking for him.”
She offered us some biscuits that she bought from the biscuit man.
She gave us a pink slip of paper from inside the biscuit box.
The slip of paper had the phone number for the biscuit factory.
Then man with the gold tooth drove by and stopped to talk.
The man with the gold tooth said that today he went to Neimeh.
He said that he did not see the biscuit man.
We walked further into town.

On the next day, we continued looking for the biscuit man.
We sat in the center of town with three children.
We waited for the biscuit man.
The man with the gold tooth drove by and stopped in front of us.
He said, “Goddamn this biscuit man – he never shows up!”
The little boy said that the biscuit man looks like a huge tree with branches coming out of his head.
The little boy said that the biscuit man is as tall as the street lamp pole.
The little boy said that the biscuit man’s car is as big as from the church to the red car.
The little boy said that the biscuit man’s biscuits are “this big,” while stretching his arms out wide.
The little girl said that today is Friday and the biscuit man should be coming.
The little girl asked her mom’s aunt about the biscuit man.
The aunt said that the biscuit man only comes once per week.
The little girl ran up to the house with the big picture of the king.
The little girl asked them if they had seen the biscuit man.
They said that they had not seen the biscuit man.
The little girl asked the woman near the red car if she had seen the biscuit man.
She said that she had not seen the biscuit man.
She said that the biscuit man used to come here every day.
She said that the biscuit man had not been coming since we started looking for him.
We walked further into town.
On the next day, we continued looking for the biscuit man.
It was afternoon when we heard the biscuit man.
It was afternoon when we heard his sound.
We heard his speakers in the distance.
The sound was getting louder.
We ran across the parking lot.
We ran further up the road.
We ran to find the biscuit man.
Then we found the biscuit man.
We found the biscuit man.
The biscuit man’s car was colored dark gray.
The biscuit man’s car had four doors.
The biscuit man’s car had a speaker outside the window.
The speaker was playing a song about his biscuits.
The biscuit man’s hair was black.
The biscuit man’s hair was pushed back from his face.
The biscuit man was wearing sandals.
The biscuit man was wearing pants.
The biscuit man was wearing a shirt.
The biscuit man’s shirt was the color of his car.
The biscuit man’s car was filled with boxes of biscuits.
There were boxes of biscuits and Turkish delight.
The biscuit man’s friend was with him in the car.
The biscuit man’s friend had on a purple shirt.
He sang the song about the biscuits that was playing from the car.
The biscuit man’s friend sang a song for the both of us.
We had found the biscuit man.
We had found him and his friend.
We had found the biscuit man.
We walked back to our home.

On the next day, we heard from the biscuit man.
Now the biscuit man was looking for us.

Untitled (with Kite)

Untitled (with Kite), 2008, video, color, sound, total running time 1 minute and 54 seconds

After two weeks of unsuccessful attempts to fly home built kites made from garbage bags and sticks, we finally gave up and purchased an imported Chinese kite from a nearby store in Irbid, Jordan. The first flight was a tremendous success; however, the small video camera attached to the kite was mistakenly turned off just at launch and turned back on upon landing. There after followed four kites, all of which would fall apart in a relatively short span of time. This process of continued foundering was interspersed with days marked by a total absence of wind, which is highly unusual for the town of Shatana in the North of Jordan. The second successful flight was to be the last, as the kite string broke and the kite flew off on its own according to the wind. The video camera recorded the snapping of the kite string, the collaborators in pursuit of the renegade kite, and the kites’ journey across the landscape to its final resting spot. This project is a collaboration with Ben Washington.

In twighlight, general outlines of ground objects may be distinguishable, but the horizon is indistinct

In twighlight, general outlines of ground objects may be distinguishable, but the horizon is indistinct, 2004, Marine Plywood, CD player, 2 speakers, audio: total running time 32 seconds, looped, h 5’6” x w 32’ x d 4’9”

In twighlight, general outlines of ground objects may be distinguishable, but the horizon is indistinct, 2004, is a 32-foot wide staircase that has been truncated at its third step. The staircase would connect to the upper level of Smack Mellon gallery, were it to continue. It is constructed of Marine Plywood in homage to the minimalist objects that in part inspired it. Speakers hidden beneath the two endpoints faintly play in continuous loop the first few bars of a rendition of Perry Como's Sunrise, Sunset. This project is a collaboration with Christopher Ho.

Special thanks to Eric Zeszotarski of Solid Studio

Outdoor Area

Outdoor Area, 2003, 2 humidifiers, seawater, 1 CD player, audio: total running time 4 minutes and 33 second, looped (installation views)

Outdoor Area consists of two humidifiers filled with seawater from an inlet immediately outside and visible through the gallery windows. Additionally, a CD player on a continuous loops an audio recording of the exhibition curators – a Norwegian collective – standing as silently as possible in the gallery for 4 minutes and 33 seconds. This project is a collaboration with Christopher Ho.

Live Act

Live Act, 2003, fog machine, industrial lamp, dimensions variable, location: Tou Scene, Stavanger, Norway

In Live Act, a fog machine in a recess of a factory’s wall intermittently produces a dense fog. The fog gradually dissipates and is dramatically lit from within at night. Part of NuArt, an annual arts and music festival in Stavanger, Norway, Live Act references the site’s history as a factory, as well as the theatrically of the bands performing inside. This project is a collaboration with Christopher Ho.

Falling Between Positions

Falling Between Positions, 2002, stereoscopic 3-d video projection, color, silent, total running time 7 seconds, looped

In Falling Between Positions, the seemingly simple action of walking is broken down into a series of small, planned increments for examination. Three paces were executed over the period of one hour. Each pace was broken down into 25 stages of body movement, where each of the 25 phases making up a single pace had to be held for 60 seconds. In the final stereoscopic 3D projection, the three paces are sped up approximately 4000% so that they appear at normal speed. This project is a collaboration with Brian McClave.

Microviews

Microviews, 2002, 600 photographic images each in tabbed hanging files, 5 modified file cabinets, 6 chairs, monitor, video, color, silent, total running time 30 minutes, looped, l 24’ x w 1’6” x h 3’. Installed at: The Municipal Art Society, Urban Center Galleries, New York NY and Lower Manhattan Cultural Council, One Wall Street Court, Second Floor, New York, NY

Microviews collects photographs and other documentation of the World Trade Center made by over 70 artists participating from 1997 – 2001 in a studio residency program located in Tower number one. The materials are individually filed, systematically categorized by formal characteristics, and cross-referenced. The file drawers rest on a base of five vertical file cabinets that lie on their sides. Additionally, a wall-mounted video silently flips through the images in the cabinets, which remain on screen for approximately 3 seconds each. Microviews provides no single way to navigate the archive. Rather, its system of cross references allows for an infinite number of approaches to each image, which in turn acquire different shades of significance depending on the particular sequence of images leading up to and following it. This project is a curatorial collaboration with Erin Donnelly, Christopher Ho, and Moukhtar Kocache.

Towards a Low End Theory

Towards a Low End Theory: New York City 2002 – Emerging Photographic Practice

Curated by Stephan Apicella-Hitchcock and Matthew Bakkom
January 25 – March 2, 2002
The Minnesota Center for Photography
711 West Lake Street, Minneapolis, MN 55408

Including:
Irvin Coffee, Ejlat Feuer, Lilah Freedland, Mattias Geiger, Adam Henry, Sigrid Jakob, Tom Kehn, Daniel Lefcourt, Kristin Lucas, Felicia McCoy, Evie Mckenna, Saul Metnick, Adia Millet, Laurel Nakadate, Panoptic, Craig Smith, Wherebouts

It is the belief of many that the cataclysmic events of the recent past have altered our cultural, physical, and emotional landscape. Whether it is a shift in human consciousness sparked by the psychological, a change in human conditions created by the economic, or a reconsideration of architectural assumptions as a result of new physical threats, the current situation is extremely fluid and rich with the possibility of change.

Frequently in the past, extraordinary events have served as the catalyst for the emergence of new cultural paradigms, styles of tool use, and shifting of societal attitudes; nevertheless, it is important to consider that these archetypal moments and attitudes, as well as our ability to perceive them, come into view only gradually. In an attempt to identify these currents, their complex expression and simultaneous, or even competitive existence, we propose Towards a Low End Theory, a selection of new work by emerging artists from New York City representing a snapshot from within.

The concept of “Low End Theory” is marked most significantly by localized, individually oriented points of emergence. This “theory” may be also be considered as the descriptive term for a time period during the initial stages of a building arc, a qualifier for describing a method of do-it-yourself fabrication, as well as the ripple effect of an event or work of art beyond its immediate or surface meaning. The resultant shock waves from 9/11 traveled from the mass societal level to reach each constituent point of this metaphorical spectrum, quickly becoming concrete in the form of discrete thought and the productions presented.

Architecture, both in the strictest sense of the definition, as well as including architecture as the design, structure, and behavior of systems, is the predominant theme in this exhibition. The photographs and films included in Towards a Low End Theory often relate to this subject tentatively and tangentially, as the aforementioned varied points of emergence have the tendency to avoid cohesion and quietly navigate their way into existence rather than boldly proclaim themselves with certainty and a false sense of bravado.

The artists in Towards a Low End Theory present a variety of calculated and intuitive responses to buildings and spaces – from Kristin Lucas’ video Five Minute Break considering the subterranean basements of the World Trade Center by means of an animated tour guide, to Felicia McCoy’s concentration on framing subway conductors within the claustrophobic immediacy of their underground workplace, to Saul Metnick’s taxonomic approach to documenting the fixed spaces of (previously mobile) burned out cars found in his surrounding Brooklyn neighborhood. 2002 is the period represented in Towards a Low End Theory in which we begin to see the initial effects that alterations of our landscape have had on the artistic concerns and work of seventeen artists.

Allez Cusine (Go Kitchen)

Allez Cusine (Go Kitchen), 2002, video, color, sound, total running time 2 minutes and 31 seconds, (image: 16 video stills)

Allez Cusine is a hallucinatory montage of fifty commercials in which artfully arranged portions of dog food are endlessly presented on spotless porcelain dishes and elegant crystal plates with decorative trim. For 2 minutes and 31 seconds various combinations of commercial strategies attempt to seduce the viewer with their pitch of visual plentitude.

Manicured hands courteously present and slide fine china across the screen, plates slowly revolve cutlets, silver forks rotate juicy morsels, wooden cooking utensils tumble nuggets and mix in slow motion, and spoons dance modest servings up towards your mouth. Gleaming knives abound – slow pans across luminous knives cutting and displaying, as if pâté, close-up shots of glowing chef’s knives precisely cutting, as if fine fillet mignon. Medallions are delicately divided, then glistening portions are gently slid apart to reveal their perfectly cooked and tender insides. The gliding camera dollies closer towards and across the immaculately plated food – harmonious in color scheme, formally arranged, and attractively garnished with hints of color. One dish is even served with a rice pilaf.

The emotionally soaring soundtrack for Allez Cusine is Fighting 17th, part of Hans Zimmer’s score for the 1991 Ron Howard film Backdraft, and later used as the introductory theme music for the Japanese television cooking show Iron Chef. The music, described as “driving,” “heroic,” “brassy,” and “triumphant,” serves as a proper counterpart to the visual imagery, both sophisticated and complimentary; yet always informed by the knowledge that the culinary delicacies presented are for the eventual consumption by animals, not humans. This project is a collaboration with Tom Kehn.

Heroes

Heroes, 2001, video, color, sound, total running time 7 minutes and 11 seconds

In 1989 the film Mac and Me was released to absolutely no critical acclaim, without doubt because it is an exercise in patent fakery. Mac and Me is a scene-by-scene rip-off of Steven Spielberg’s film E.T. the Extraterrestrial. Mac and Me is not a very good film by any standard, which makes it a perfect candidate for filmic resuscitation and shock therapy. The goal: to exhaustively look through the film to find and subsequently celebrate one small kernel of possibility from within a seemingly endless progression of commonplace scenes.

Heroes extracts and contextually modifies a generic sequence in which FBI agents are engaged in a frenetic foot chase up to and through a mall. By slowing down the sequence to 12% of the original speed the awkward and exaggerated actions of these hack actors are transformed into motions ethereal and balletic. Aside from slowing the speed of the footage, a significant liberty has been taken with the original narrative flow of Mac and Me. The chase sequence has been re-cut so that what the FBI agents are pursuing is conspicuously absent. Viewed unaltered the plot is turgid and the action predictable, yet edited and slowed the significance of their quest becomes cryptic and their movements are marked by unusual delicacy and refinement. Furthermore, the audio component of Heroes assists in transmuting the original footage into something remarkable. The soundtrack, once slowed down to 12% of the original speed, has more in common with ambient experimental music than maudlin film scores. Time elongation converts the music from something stale to something unusually changing and airy.

Ultimately, a heroic action is something done in response to a desperate situation. The purpose of Heroes is to scrounge through another filmmaker’s cinematic detritus until something worth honoring is found. This project is a collaboration with Tom Kehn.

Orphan

Orphan, 2001, total running time 44 minutes and 17 seconds

Just because something doesn't do what you planned it to do doesn't mean it's useless. – Thomas Edison

Orphan is a 44 minute, 17 second sound piece that took one year to create. For the first six months of the project, every week samples were randomly extracted from the New York region airwaves. The material gathered, which ran the gamut from rash cream commercials to "blazin’ hip hop," was the raw material upon which a series of experiments were to be conducted. The intention of the research was to ascertain if the authoritative language and tone of voice utilized on commercial radio could be broken down and distilled into an essence. Once the soon to be obsolete products were edited out and the remaining absences filled, it only remained to organize the residue into a presentable form.

Could the new hybrid function in an assertive manner like the parental source promotions, however with the end goal of selling absolutely nothing? The answer we have found, after much trial and error, is a swaggering and secure yes – the poised language of marketing can be mined and forced to function on new terms, yet with a certain number new and unpleasant side effects coming to the forefront.

Genetic tampering, even with seemingly simple Am/Fm radio source material, is messy business with unpredictable results. Your engineered product may look fine now, only to dissolve before your eyes moments later. Instability becomes the norm and that’s the risk of advancing evolution. It might seem difficult at first listening to our alpha voice die – it’s always hard to loose a leader – however, there are few pleasures greater for a victim of commercial over–saturation than witnessing power itself stuttering and spurting, untethered by sales objectives, eventually degenerating into nonsensical tongues. Think of Orphan as something reclaiming territory by generating a waste of time. This project is a collaboration with Tom Kehn.

Training: the Basic Question

Training: the Basic Question, 2000, video, color, sound, total running time 1 minutes and 46 seconds

Training: the Basic Question is a distillation of an entire informational video series created by the McDonald's corporation to regiment proper workplace etiquette and maximize production. The series has been edited, compressed, and restructured so that the logical points and authority from the original message have been transformed into an incoherent, rambling series of half completed sentences and uncomfortable silences. The video, whose purpose was to describe efficient communication techniques, is now ultimately incapable of following through on its own suggestions. Directives have been meticulously excised from the video leaving behind a pervading sense of confusion, including a number of workers who seem to have developed an uneasy relationship with their primary product, meat. Numerous images of individuals obsessively attending to and handling meat in Training: the Basic Question generate a connection between employee and product that borders on fetishistic. This project is a collaboration with Tom Kehn.

Air Bud: Golden Receiver

Air Bud: Golden Receiver, 1999, video, color, sound, total running time 4 minutes and 43 seconds

Air Bud: Golden Receiver is a series of short, absurd video loops generated from footage mined from a Disney film about a golden retriever who can play football. After a shocking first viewing it seemed that the film was 100% generically commercial and devoid of any notable footage whatsoever; nevertheless, after numerous additional and more painstaking examinations a substantial number of salvageable 1–2 second fragments were located scattered throughout the 90 minute cliche. One would not imagine that a Disney project with a G rating would contain such disturbing and lewd imagery, yet exceptionally distressing scenes are all latent in the formulaic original if the film is carefully scrutinized. This project is a collaboration with Tom Kehn.

Geegaw + Scientifikk = Logikkal Trifle?

Geegaw + Scientifikk = Logikkal Trifle?, 1999, video, black & white, silent, total running time 4 seconds, looped, assorted materials, l 20’ x w 80’ (top image: 8 photographs in sequence utilized for pinhole video. bottom image: installation view of Geegaw + Scientifikk = Logikkal Trifle? for Ruins in Reverse, CEPA Gallery, Buffalo, NY)

In this show the photographic act is paired down to its bare minimum with the entire show functioning as an exploded view of all the factors that come into play to make a single photographically generated, animated image. In December 1998, the two artists began a three-day trip to make a simple, animated loop of a yet unknown object in the State of New York Medical Examiners office in Buffalo. Over the next three days, the artists traveled from New York City’s Pennsylvania Station to Buffalo, NY, researched within the medical examiners office, and made the eight pinhole photographs that would comprise the final animation. The animation is comprised of 8 black & white images circling a ceiling mounted video camera in the room where autopsies take place. The video camera sends a live feed of the deceased from the autopsy room to a separate room where body identification takes place.

All objects that were utilized in the preparation and production of the animation were collected and stored into an ever-increasing number of trash bags. Weeks after the initial production of the images the bags were brought into the clinical workspace of the gallery, whereupon, employing subjective memory and pseudo-scientific cataloging practices, the artifacts – ranging from ticket stubs and food wrappers, to duct tape and clothing worn during production – were organized with the goal of reconstructing the original narrative. The resultant display takes on the logical form of a timeline, or wake of a ship leading up to the creation of the animation; however, branching out from this sequence are the tangents, digressions, and embellishments that occur when theory, memory, and history merge. This project is a collaboration with Brian McClave.

In the Jaws 3 of Poltergeist III

In the Jaws 3 of Poltergeist III, 1999, video, color, sound, total running time 2 minutes and 11 seconds

In the Jaws 3 of Poltergeist III collapses formulaic sequels from two lucrative movie franchises (Jaws 3 and Poltergeist III) into one hybrid creation containing all salvageable elements from the trivial originals. What was once bloated and collectively three hours and 17 minutes long becomes synopsized into a lean 2 minute and 11 second story concerning a young girl’s purging of a traumatic and watery past. A psychologist claustrophobically covers the child’s face with his large hand, repeatedly massaging out distressing memories – surveillance cameras panning across Florida lagoons and Chicago high rise lobbies, terrified people running through underwater tunnels and high rise hallways, as well as circumstantially more bizarre moments – a man dramatically tumbling out of an uncontrollable golf cart. Likewise, secondary characters continually cover their faces, as if in sympathy for the girl, or in desperation for the films in which they are acting to miraculously transform into cohesive and less ludicrous productions. The hypnotic repetition of the mumbled word “breathe,” by the psychologist seems to be equally applicable advice to the remainder of the B-list actors frantically scrambling about in the convoluted plots so typical for the third film of a dying series. Additionally, explosions of acrylic glass feature prominently in both movies, but were not utilized in In the Jaws 3 of Poltergeist III. This project is a collaboration with Tom Kehn.

Based on the True Story of Rocky Dennis

Based on the True Story of Rocky Dennis, 1999, video, color, sound, total running time 2 minutes and 9 seconds

Based on the True Story of Rocky Dennis extracts, rearranges, and loops scenes from the 1985 Peter Bogdanovich film Mask in order to highlight the acutely manipulative aspects of the film. What becomes evident after successive viewings of Mask and the second filmic ingredient, Deliverance, directed by John Boorman in 1972, is that tender stories and appalling stories are equally as brutal in exploiting audience emotions. Saccharine moments from Mask – an excessively heartfelt story about the struggles of a highly intelligent boy with serious disfiguring cranial enlargements to overcome prejudice – are juxtaposed with the most disturbing scene of depravity from Deliverance – the notoriously violent sodomy of Bobby (Ned Beatty).

Contrasting the endless scenes from Mask that illustrate the noblest aspects of humanity with Deliverance’s wanton violation might seem extremely crude and provoke hasty reactions of disapproval; nevertheless, this deliberate poisoning of the well effectively brings into sharp relief the manner in which audience emotions have been manipulated by maudlin characters and implausible actions from the very beginning. The film equation presented in Based on the True Story of Rocky Dennis might not be liked, but it demands acknowledgement as simply a different product of the same language utilized in the source films. This project is a collaboration with Tom Kehn.

The Pathos of Richard Dreyfus

The Pathos of Richard Dreyfus, 1998, video, color, sound, total running time 8 minutes and 50 seconds

The Pathos of Richard Dreyfus collects and strings together in chronological order every scene from Steven Spielberg’s film Close Encounters of the Third Kind in which the Devil’s Tower in Wyoming appears. Regardless of the duration of the scene, if the Devil’s Tower appeared on screen in Close Encounters of the Third Kind, it was included in The Pathos of Richard Dreyfus. From glimpses of the Devil’s Tower in pencil sketches, to zooms into maps, to tracking shots around mashed potato sculptures of the tower, to the actual tower itself – the obsessive collecting of imagery in The Pathos of Richard Dreyfus mirrors the fanatical qualities that mark the movie’s misunderstood protagonists.

The soundtrack for the piece is a repeated five second sample of a rising string buildup with an agitated Richard Dreyfus gutturally barking “not right, not right – not right,” while failing to give sculptural form to his mysterious vision of the yet unseen Devil’s Tower. The audio loops for the duration of the piece and briefly synchronizes when it reaches the video source from which it was extracted. This project is a collaboration with Tom Kehn.