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VS. is a showcase of collaborative
video works resulting from tape exchanges between performers and post-producers.
Each commissioned performance artist submits a performance video to be
edited and revised by a post-producer. The performer acts with the anticipation
of losing control over the final cut, while the post-producer is made
to work with whatever the performer creates. How does one craft one's
own image in a world that is ‘fixed’ in post?
The project aims to highlight the inherent constructs in ‘pure’
performance and the strategies of video post-production. The separation
of the activities forces both parties to focus on the features of their
respective tasks. Implicit in this exchange are issues of trust, authenticity,
authorship, and respect. VS. is as much of an experiment as it is an examination
of the rarely acknowledged but oft-occurring problems with collaboration.
The works commissioned for this program will be subject to strict guidelines.
The artist(s) will be asked to produce an uninterrupted recording of a
performance. The shot must be continuous and fixed, such that the result
can be considered “raw” material. The performance should not
be edited, as a second (group of) artist(s) will be responsible for taking
this footage and creating a final product. The performer can use a minimal
amount of props, though the image cannot involve anyone irrelevant to
the performance, such as a public audience. The editor will not be using
footage or sound from outside sources.
This project will highlight the inherent power shifts when one gives themselves
over to someone else. The performer submits to the hand of the producer
but the producer will also have to work with whatever the performer creates.
The resulting works will illustrate the combating relationship between
pure performance as construct and the physical aspects of constructing
a series of images. The performer and the editor expose the different
strategies implicit to the arenas of performance and video, respectively.
640 480 acknowledges the support of the Toronto Arts Council for the
VS. programme. |
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Exhibition Details
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VS. was screened at PleasureDome
in Toronto on December 11, 2004
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The idea of placing restrictions
on artists conflicts with our deep-rooted romantic notions that
art should be an arena for free-play, unbound by limitations and convention.
The imposition of constraint, however, has produced countless aesthetic,
compositional, literary and cinematic masterpieces. Piet Mondrian often
limited himself to straight lines and primary colours. The Danish
Dogme95 manifesto demanded its filmmakers adhere to a strict set of guidelines
that, amongst other things, forbade all post-production such as music,
titles, optical and special effects.1 John Cage
employed many compositional restraints in order to free himself from codexed
and institutionalized music. Arnold Schoenberg, his instructor, created 12-Tone
Seriel Music using the restriction that a note cannot be played
again until all other remaining tones of the octave have been employed,
ensuring an atonal equilibrium, preventing any one note from becoming
a tonal center. For his performance Outside, Tehching Hsieh spent
an entire year without entering a building or roofed structure, but rather
wandered around lower Manhattan. French author George Perec wrote a three
hundred-page novel2 without using the letter 'e'.
In literary circles constraint is practically a sub-genre. The experimental
poetry and prose of the OuLiPo group, Kenneth Goldsmith, Raymond Queneau,
Walter Abish, Jackson Mac Low and Toronto's Christian Bök all
rely on rigorous conceptual limitations. Bök's bestselling
Euonia is a five-chapter book with each chapter restricted to
a single vowel. The rhyming scheme of traditional poetry represents possibly
the most ubiquitous and accepted form of constraint, enforcing that the
sound of a word takes precedence over its meaning. It has recently
been suggested that with the proliferation of e-books, popular fiction
too will make itself available to the remix, bringing the cut-up
projects of Brion Gysin and William S Burroughs to their logical conclusion.
The constraint imposed on the Vs performers by the 640 480 collective
is designed to facilitate collaboration, to leave room for the participation
of the other. When you plan to take a double exposure photograph,
for example, you must be careful to under-expose the first frame. By limiting
the source material of these forced collaborations 640 480 has created
problems over which both parties must triumph. The originator must
create a video work without the flourishes of improved technology, harkening
back to early video art of the monologist variety. The challenger then
has complete control over the finished product, and has the freedom to
employ all and every post-production possibility but cannot add any new
footage.
The commercial remixing of pop music, presumably the inspiration
for the project, must abide by considerable restraints of its own. When
a record company commissions a DJ or producer to remix a song, the
stipulation generally exists that it cannot stray too far from the original
record it is designed to promote. More renegade remixing is threatened
by constantly strengthening copyright laws where the restraint of
ownership looms large.
Remixing originated in the 1960s when Jamaican sound system producers
such as King Tubby, Ruddy Redwood and Lee "Scratch" Perry
stripped reggae songs down to their instrumental skeletons and called
them "dub" versions. The rise of the 1970's discotheques called
for extended versions of popular hits that could emphasize, or increase,
a song’s danceability. In the 1980's marketing ploys required
alternate takes as bonus tracks to drive singles up the charts and by
the 90's cross-marketing campaigns sought to buy credibility in other
genres by employing name DJs to rework pop songs. Recently the mash-up,
the bastard cousin sub-genre, has received mainstream attention
after Danger Mouse's The Grey Album, which combined tracks
from the Beatles' White Album with Jay-Z's The Black Album.3
Beatles lawyers soon shut the project down, forcing it back underground,
but artists like Bjork and David Bowie, ever keen to appear cutting-edge,
encouraged fan mash-ups of their material. Bowie went so far as to
offer a free car to the winning entry.
This connection to pop music is not superficial. From its inception in
2001, the 640 480 collective have explored hybrids from pop culture including
etch-a-sketches, video prints, flipbooks and video embroidery. While artists
only a generation prior had to fight for the acceptance of video as a
high-art form, 640 480 now struggle with the problem of how to maintain
the medium’s relevancy.
Part exquisite corpse, part head-to-head combat, the Vs project also raises
issues of authorship, control and trust. The editor has final cut, but
ultimately both artists must relinquish a degree of control in support
of a work that combines both efforts.
Historically, artists have used strategic constraint as a way to overcome
their own tastes and aesthetics. The Dogme95 manifesto, for instance,
denounces artistry in favour of truth. John Cage sought to liberate himself
from “from individual taste and memory (psychology) and also of
the literature and traditions of art.”
The Vs collaborations work best when the participants employ a self-imposed
restraint. Alissa Firth-Eagland conceived of her performance as an open
“letter to the editor” and Jeremy Drummond responded with
a loophole in the rulebook; he added text. A timely tract on using
humiliation as a torture technique accompanies and completes Firth-Eagland’s
deliberately ambiguous performances about sexuality and power. Will Munro
and Jeremy Laing’s physical exercise in form and colour is enhanced
by Aleesa Cohene’s subtle manipulation of outline and shape. Kika
Thorne’s simple and disciplined Memento style edit inverts the narrative
and best articulates the intentions of Steve Kado.
Years ago I was collaborating with a friend of mine who noted that the
term 'constraint' was one that she could never reconcile with the idea
of art making, but when she thought of it in terms of 'bondage' it
became appropriately sexy.4
1. Lars Von Trier's The Idiots is perhaps
my favorite film of the last decade. Thomas Vinterberg’s
Celebration rightly earned accolades and numerous festival prizes.
2. La Disparition, written in 1969, and
translated into English (maintaining the conceit) in 1995 as A Void.
3. The first mash-up is generally credited to Evolution
Control Committee, who added a Public Enemy vocal over a Herb Albert instrumental
track in 1994.
4. Fittingly, the Dogme95 manifesto was also known
as the "vow of chastity".
Thanks to Nikola Julien, Roula Partheniou, Christian Bok, and Grant
McCracken.
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Bad Infinity
Steve Kado VS. Kika Thorne |
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MAKE ME
Will Munro & Jeremy Laing VS. Aleesa Cohene |
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Hoobastank / Trampoleenin
Steve Reinke VS. Jubal Brown |
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Test Doob
Vollrath VS. Daniel Borins |
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Master of the Universe
Tom Sherman VS. Tasman Richardson |
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VS, versus, implies
an oppositional, competitive relationship: this artist against that one,
one work against another. And while instances of this can be seen from our
ringside seats among the dozen-or-so video artists who have agreed to participate
in 640 480’s curatorial match-up, there is much more. In throwing
open the relationship between the artist who performs a work and the artist
who post-produces that work, natures of working practices and constructions
of meaning are thrown into light. Indeed, performing and post-production
are labels inadequate to describing the roles of the participants: all are
video artists whose labour has spanned the spectrum of acting, taping, editing,
publicity – and now as volunteer guinea pigs for 640 480’s versus
thesis.
The titling convention of VS, /performance artist/ versus /post-producer/,
might be structurally misleading in that it implies a back-and-forth relationship,
or if not, at least first against the second (artist against the producer).
In truth the mechanism is reversed: the producer acts, in a clean break,
on the performance piece, without the artist’s participation. In two
of the pieces, Bad Infinity (Steve Kato vs. Kika Thorne) and Untitled
(Emily Vey Duke vs. Daniel Cockburn), the post producer eventually
gives back to the artist their own original work. In each piece there is
a moment when the performer’s intention is revealed, generously and
powerfully, by the producer. Together at Last, Cooper
Battersby vs. Benny Nemerofsky Ramsay – or should I say, together
at last, Cooper Battersby and Benny Ramsay. It has to be a leap of faith
for a performing artist to finally hand over their time-based self-portrait
to a post producer to do with what they will. Benny’s gamble in giving
Cooper a clumsy love poem (which is sincere clearly because it fumbles)
has been rewarded by Cooper’s gentle treatment of it. A kaleidoscope
of desire surpasses itself briefly when Benny’s swaddled visage, reflected
and multiplied, suddenly becomes angelic putti floating above our heads.
This post-production transcendence is not necessarily sympathetic to the
original material, if it occurs at all. The prophylactic significance of
Will Monroe’s and Jeremy Laing’s performance – a sewing
away of Will’s clothes onto Jeremy, a kind of slow-motion strip poker
with all the risks entailed – has been made into something else by
Aleesa Coheene in MAKE ME. It seems that the relaxation of austere
gender roles still remains dangerous, strangely, and the result instead
is a charming, colourful video.
At the other end of the spectrum is the very powerful and difficult piece,
PLOT, what Jeremy Drummond has done to Alissa Firth-Eagland. Her
performance of a modern, dependant housewife in dress and high heels carrying
out suburban, domestic chores has been underscored by his continuous chosen
text running beneath. Excerpted from Richard Krousher’s manual Physical
Interrogation Techniques, simple and practical advice follows on methods
of torture, along with warnings on how not to “lose him.” Him.
As I write this, President George Bush is in Ottawa on a state visit, thanking
Canadians who came out to watch him from the side of the road as his motorcade
drove by, waving (and this is where he begins to laugh at his own joke)
“with all five fingers.” This is on the same day that the International
Committee of the Red Cross announces their findings that US authorities
in the military prison at Guantanamo Bay, Cuba have devised and refined
a system to break the will of prisoners, using humiliation, solitary confinement,
temperature extremes and force positions “tantamount to torture.”
I looked the word tantamount up in the dictionary, an American dictionary,
and it means as much, the same thing, the same amount, equivalent. Torture.
It seems that, in the six minute video Hoobastank / Trampoleenin,
Jubal Brown has taken an antagonistic position, however slight, toward Steve
Reinke’s forty-five minute performance wandering the streets and laneways
of downtown Toronto singing along to Patti Smith’s recent anti-war
album Trampin’. It’s the power of the editor (and curator,
for that matter) to manufacture new meaning out of existing work. There
always is a concern with the possible loss of original meaning, of deleted
context, even of the integrity of the performance. Is Reinke’s sarcasm
understood when he says (or is made to say), “I’m pretty much
pro-war. Um, not politically, of course, but aesthetically.”? Is it
too subtle for anyone to catch the import when he hits the “th”
in aesthetic hard? I’m reminded of Walter Benjamin’s conclusion
that mankind’s “self-alienation has reached such a degree that
it can experience its own destruction as an aesthetic pleasure of the first
order. This is the system of politics which Fascism is rendering aesthetic.”1
And I wonder about those hoods that are tied tightly over “enemy combatant’s”
heads. Where are they made? Are they sewn together with care? How many have
been sold? Are they profitable?
Of course, consent can be withheld. Daniel Borins is entitled to largely
ignore Vollrath’s (Conan Romanyk) contribution in Test Doob,
although the strongest moments occur when the performance is on screen.
And Tom Sherman is entitled to pull Heman & the Master of the Universe
from the screening altogether because he is unwilling to cede to Tasman
Richardson’s post-production.†
Perhaps in their own way, and in terms of 640 480’s curatorial premise,
these two pieces, one weak and the other absent, are the most successful
in the show.
1. Walter Benjamin, “The Work of Art
in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction,” in Illuminations,
ed. Hannah Arendt (New York: Shocken Books, 1969), 242.
†. At the time this essay was written,
Tom Sherman had asked that Master of the Universe be pulled from
the Vs. project, and that it not be considered for inclusion in the essays.
Less than two weeks before Vs. was set to premiere, Sherman allowed his
collaboration with Tasman Richardson to be included.
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Plot
Alissa Firth-Eagland VS. Jeremy Drummond |
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Figure vs. Ground
Emily Vey Duke VS. Daniel Cockburn |
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