The election ran on forever; the potential elected carved of the same cheap Italian marble as so much tchotchke that collects minuscule flakes of dead flesh all over the world. Nope,nothing original here. But it begs the question: Would we really expect change? Could we deal with it?
Change is much like choice; it is always just over there beyond reach; a rock as Sisyphus would say. Nothing seems to come without some level of tumult, a friction of signals. This is the period of unrest, anxious manoeuvring knowing a direction should be taken but the signage is weathered, paint long since faded by the sun. Every path looks just about as unkept. Any choice will change things, but every choice offers brambles, deadfall and general muck.
This all has very little with why I took and decided to use these photographs. I can still call them photographs can’t I? There were thunderstorms all around, a strange stereo of thunder off in various distances mixed with that interesting sound and smell of tires on wet-warm pavement. The moment called for the contrast of mixing the flash with natural light (fairly warm and dim). I knew the flag would pop like crazy, as would the ice cream cone. It was possible to get a bit of information from the sign and maintain the “glowiness” of the neon, again, the flash was useful for that.
The images capture a certain Canadian vanity I may have that always wants to treat America as “the simulacrum“; not just Canadian I guess as I am just now recalling a text by Umberto Eco (Travel’s in Hyper Reality) that explores this idea quite eloquently. But the image are are really very tongue-in-cheek since I am very aware of this strange kind of transverse orientalism; it is more me-looking-at-myself-being-condescending-and-aloof than anything else. I always wonder how much of this come through and how much gets lost in the translation.
Older images, collected bytedust on a hard drive for a bit.
Were the images also flattened by the latency of existence as data, as real potential?
Can something be nothing but potential without the intrusion of langlanduage?
Sometimes, the work is seeking out those spaces where the past/present is in the act of coming-to-being. We seem to spend so much time chastising ourselves as the culture that will bring on the end of the world. But if you sit down and think about it, has the planet ever been at rest? Heck, there was a time that most of the Earth’s surface was molten rock, sulphur pits and unpleasantly warm surfaces everywhere else. We are certainly changing things, but they are also changing us. It is simply a question of waiting it out to see which gene pool ends up being able to thrive.
Have been sitting and watching Christian Marclay’s “The Clock”. Watching the clock, watching time trying to grasp duration. I was imagining how interesting it would be to have the piece on my wrist and tell the time by being familiar with every moment of footage seen and heard. To know it is 10:54 when Marlon Brando rolls over in a bed complaining about early risers would be interesting to say the least.
But that is beside the point. I am at first struck by the tightness and logic of the editing; not just a question of finding all the right times on the clock faces but also to tie the sequences together to offer a [meta]narrative going beyond the stories in the individual films themselves. The editing makes it logical and even exciting, you just want to keep watching and watching because you truly feel a story is unfolding.
The horrible part of this piece is that it will surely create an elite cadre of viewers (“Footageheads” to quote William Gibson[1]). These viewers will be the ones who sat through the entire 24 hour cycle, they will lay claim to being the ones who paid the price and sat with greatness and possibly noticed flaws and mistakes further enhancing the chic factor. The nouveau-geek-hero, in the past these were the ones who knew where all the numbers were hidden in Peter Greenaway’s “Drowning by Numbers” or who had sparring matches with comrades quoting Monty Python from memory. But this kind of work indeed does inspire such followings, but as the word implies, it is about following, not interacting or acknowledging affect.
I sat from 10:24 to 12:34.
Hours, quarter hours… each has a particular character. As in the non-mediated universe [sic].
I was expecting to see many bits of film more or less randomly assembled [in terms of visual parameters] in order to place the be able to accomplish the technical task at hand; of course it would make for a pretty weak piece in terms of affect, so I was also expecting some kind of strategic stitching. But what I saw was congruent, flowing from scene to scene as if they were all part of one story and they are, it is the story of this human need to measure, compare and situate.
Most of what I have been reading has placed a great deal of importance on the “homage” to film idea; but that is ignoring the fishing line in order to appreciate the hook. Film is invariably wrapped with duration at 29 (or more, or less) frames per second, and indeed this work is not a random mishmash of filmic sequences. But it is not either fixated on great, campy, popular, esoteric cinema.
What I was responding to mostly was what the characters on the screen were doing as a clock or watch or … was part of the composition. It was incredibly human; one seldom looks at one’s watch just to admire the elegant hands or fluid numbers flick by for the fun of it. It is usually because an appointment needs to be kept, or a schedule adhered to and I noticed something else, something I never really considered before but that is quite common.
We look at the time because we are bored.
And I wonder how this is comforting or rather what part of our desire is being addressed with this activity.
“I am bored so looking at the time go by is a reassurance that I will not be bored forever.”
“I am bored so looking at time go by occupies my thoughts.”
“I am bored so looking at time reminds me of how short life really is.”
And… so on.
Still images from "The Clock"
Back to time, back in time.
Time is independent from beings, things and measurement. It does not move in any specific direction, all time exists at the same time. It is beyond our instruments since it is beyond our experience. This piece reminded me of this, not really remind since this is something that has been bouncing around my synapses since reading “Évolution Créatrice” by Henri Bergson. It is a concept that has captivated me and is beginning to have impact in my practice.
We do not deal with time, we deal with duration; we are unable to conceptualize time outside of the measurement systems we have developed to describe it as a commodity, something to trade, barter and waste. Ultimately, I think this is what “The Clock” wants to address. It does it through film history and recognizable patterning.
By the way, “The Clock” is set to local time wherever it is showing.
This looks like it could be an officially sanctioned recording of the piece on YouTube.
[1] Gibson, William, Pattern Recognition, 2003, Putnam, New York
I read, I teach New Media. I read books, I read on my iPad. Is it the object or is it the story? Burroughs taught me that I can take a text and snip it, cut it and reshape it. Gyotat taught me that text is sound, it vibrates, it shimmers, moves around the page and confounds, obfuscates, illuminates; en bref, it moves.
I have always thought that a book was an object, I played with a nephew building houses with my collection of Stephen King hardcovers in the hope that he would realize that books were things to be played with and explored and seen from different angles. Not just the words on the page, after all they are a result of the process, not the process itself.
Proust taught me that memory lingers, stains our bedsheets with contrivance and conspiracy. He also taught me that it is important to remember… nothing in particular and everything specific. Joyce taught me that looking at an object is a doorway to a long lost universe. Acker taught me that I need to shout, be confident (despite my insecurity), and live with the pirates of the Articles.
Intertexuality, Intertext, text, ex, and so on.
“In the beginning was the word and the word was god and has remained one of the mysteries ever since. The word was God and the word was flesh we are told. In the beginning of what exactly was this beginning word? In the beginning of WRITTEN history. It is generally assumed that spoken word came before the written word. I suggest that the spoken word as we know it came after the written word. In the beginning was the word and the word was God and the word was flesh … human flesh … In the beginning of WRITING.”
– Burroughs, William S., Electronic Revolution, Expanded Media Editions, 4th edition 1986, Bonn, Germany
Die electronische Revolution, William S. Burroughs
