Tuesday, April 27, 2010

the space between artwork and visitor

Video Installation is wonderfully hard to define because of its integration of other art forms such as film, sculpture, conceptual, and performance. On top of its multiple-personality form of sorts, as Maia pointed out, installations really do need to be experienced in person. Margaret Morse put it perfectly when she said:

“Note that the artist vacates the scene in the installation per se. This allows the visitor rather than the artist to perform the piece. Indeed, she or he is in the piece as its experiential subject, not by identification, but in body.

This aspect of visitor/performer duality highlights the importance of first hand experience. This of course varies from piece to piece, some installations involving much more direct interaction than others, but to some degree most give implicate the visitor as both outside viewer as well as performer. The latter role as performer means that visitors are given a degree of agency and thus a participatory role as artist that those watching a record of an installation don’t have. The same could be said of sculpture, architecture, or really any other tactile art form

Experience of video installation goes beyond the duality of viewer/performer though, because as Morse points out, the difference between experiencing a video of a video installation and being in the space proper is our bodily perception. When Maia and I sit in classrooms watching Tony Oursler’s work, our bodies are sitting still in hard wooden chairs, our eyes are the primary form of experience. Phenomenologically there is a huge difference between our sitting and the active interaction of the people we see wandering through the installation videos. This is a bit of a digression, but talking about the necessity for human experience reminds me of how a few days ago I was chatting with my roommate about how the U.S. is pushing for a manned voyage to Mars because even though we have rovers there, nobody really cares. The reason I bring the Mars mission up is to point out that this urge for bodily experience is very much not exclusive to the art world. We crave experiential intimacy with that which we know exists outside its representation.

Our cravings for intimacy and immediacy I think are part of the answer to Maia’s open question of “why is the video an artwork, whereas a documentation of an installation or a performance is not (usually) art?” The act of documenting is one of distanced preservation, like freezing food, creating a space between viewer and artwork that inhibits creative engagement. To keep with the food analogy, I feel that this distance is similar to the difference between seeing a picture of a sandwich and eating that sandwich—in the former we let it exist distant and objectively, in the latter we take it in, taste, and digest it in relation to our individual sense-reactions. Video art is an artwork because the video format is how the piece was meant to be received, like tasting a sandwich or feeling the panic of a bungee jump fall, while pictures or other documents of these things are simply descriptions of the sensory event.

The reason Dan Graham’s “Performer/Audience/Mirror” felt more like a documentation than it did an art piece is because the piece was meant to implicate the viewers, especially when he starts describing them, because it creates a direct connection between the performer and audience that makes for unique, uncomfortable, reactions. When we watched the video of it, we did so some 40 years later, and in a way that removed our interaction. I think a “truer” experience of Graham’s piece would be re-enacting his performance with an audience because in this way we could have the same types of engaged reactions as Graham and the audience in the video did. This in mind, maybe we should start re-enacting some of these performances or re-creating some old installations to get a truer sense of them.

Sunday, April 25, 2010

Performance/Installation/Documentation

The distinctions between different “kinds” of video art are all very vague. Attempting to define it is basically futile. Many have tried, but the best that can be done seems to be breaking it up into 3 (or so) different areas: (1) formal experimentation, (2) recorded performance (as Forrest mentioned last week), and (3) installation. But then there are so many crossovers, that it becomes pointless to categorize them, even though that is the nature of art historians and media theorists. Video art really is the medium of our post-war/postmodern/contemporary/what-have-you culture. Unlike other fine art forms, it creates a sort of immediacy that the viewer experiences in one-way or another, and it depends on a wide variety of materials for its production and display. As a postmodern art form, video is inherently mixed-media—both in physical form and in its relationship to visual culture. Video installation gets even more confusing in this way, because it requires the use of a wide range of materials and ideas, and it demands a different viewer—one that must react, and physically experience the artwork. In “Video Installation Art: The Body, the Image, and the Space-in-between,” Margaret Morse describes video installation as “the most complex art form in contemporary culture” (154).

Video installation depends on the museum or gallery for its very existence, in contrast to painting and sculpture, which may use a museum for validation, but exist outside of the institution. Installations are time- and site-specific, they may be able to be reconfigured in another location, but the context has changed. Installation has no aura, it cannot be commodified, and it is impossible to document (since the art is “the actual construction of a passage for bodies or figures in space and time” [154]). Video installation is in the same realm as conceptual art, performance art, body art and earthworks, in that it is defined by a sort of “liveness” (Morse, 156). Paintings, sculptures, and even films, are all placed behind a frame—they depict an “elsewhere, elsewhen” that the viewer can contemplate, whereas installations cause the viewer to physically become a part of here and now of the piece.

A lot of the videos Forrest and I watched this week were found in short clips on youtube, because, while you cannot actually experience an installation through its documented form, many people video tape them in an attempt to document their experience (like taking photos at Disneyland, or videotaping your road trip—people keeping pieces of their experiences in a visual form, so they can attempt to relive them, or share them with friends). Tony Oursler’s talking heads, Bill Viola’s large projections exploring human emotion, and Shirin Neshat’s dual-channel projections are all frequently documented, and can easily be found on youtube. However, there is no way to actually experience them without seeing them installed.

In our search for documentations of installations, Forrest and I ran across a couple other pieces. One performance piece in particular seemed to work in the same way as installation, although, it seems more effective as a performance, rather than video. Dan Graham’s Performer/Audience/Mirror consists of the artist standing in front of an audience, with a mirror behind him reflecting the viewers. As the artist stands, adjusts his posture, and moves, he describes every gesture, pose and action in a flat, continuous monotone (the same dialogue that so many performance artists use), during which, as we can see in the mirror, the audience watches him without any reservation. After about 10 or 15 minutes, however, the artist begins to describe the audience. Their actions change, they begin to look away from him, and at the mirror. As they do this, he continues to describe their aversion to looking at him, making them more uncomfortable as they observe themselves in the mirror. As they watch themselves, he turns to face the mirror and begins to describe both the audience and himself as reflected in the mirror. The piece is meant to as call into question the line between subjectivity and objectivity. It seemed interesting to me, because it directly involved the audience, like an interactive video piece would (for example Bruce Nauman’s Video Corridor). However, like with installations, the video seemed like a documentation of a piece, rather than an artwork in and of itself. So why is the video an artwork, whereas a documentation of an installation or a performance is not (usually) art?

Videos Watched:

Dan Graham
Performer/Audience/Mirror
http://www.ubu.com/film/graham_performer.html
Rock My Religion
http://www.ubu.com/film/graham_rock.html

Tony Oursler
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WCkK-ljuhOE
http://www.designboom.com/contemporary/oursler.html
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NbZ6Mi0WDuo&feature=related
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8aqIk_ynVak&feature=related
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s31r2Id390g&feature=related
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aORLLe3HCtY&feature=related
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=giROCwGx9wo&NR=1

Dieter Froese
Big Brother Cycle Spy
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rqkpv1hBMDE

Shirin Neshat
Turbulent
Rapture

Bill Viola
Crossing

Tuesday, April 20, 2010

Political Video: Cultural or Technological Context?

A lot of the videos we watched this last week were primarily political. Even though their methods were a bit different—some text based, some medium specific manipulations, some performances—they all were making political comments on their contemporary cultural context. For many of these artists, as Forrest mentioned, the medium was essential for their message to be successful. They were working in a new medium, which was also beginning to be widely used for mass consumer culture. They played with this medium specificity to circulate their critiques of the very same medium. After the initial excitement, some artists, such as Martha Rosler, began to use the medium as a means to comment on other (yet still somewhat related) political issues. Unfortunately, due to the fact that the medium, apparatus and subject of all these videos are so deeply entrenched in specific technology, the visuals and themes tend to become outdated rather quickly.

Rosler’s Semiotics of the Kitchen (1975), had many critical levels, however on first viewing, it did not seem very subtle—in our current cultural context, her feminist critique of gender roles seems worn out. In 2010, people have been exposed to feminism for years, and it is no longer controversial. Having grown up in the Pacific Northwest in the 1990s, feminist ideas were the standard. At this point in time, while gender roles still exist, our culture has already done a lot to break down stereotypes, and we are all fairly familiar with the, what are now standard, critiques. Watching Semiotics of the Kitchen, her violent, yet humorous, actions did not have the intended shock. While she was a bit ambiguous with her postmodernist restructuring of signs (there is no way for semiotic play to NOT be somewhat ambiguous), it was obvious her position on the issue.

It makes me wonder if it was so blatant when it was released. While these critiques may seem passé to us now, were they actually provocative at the time? As Forrest said, these videos were “in effect the beginnings of an important cultural critique that is now mainly delivered to current generations in the form of bumper stickers.” These critiques of society have now become engrained in our culture—the problems (television, gender roles, etc.) may still exist, but everyone is aware of them. It is interesting how these videos, created merely 35 years ago, seem so dated. While some of this is due to the rapidly changing political climate of the 60s and 70s, I feel an even more influential aspect of it is tied to the fact that they were created with a new and quickly evolving medium (which is very different with other media, such as painting).

When video was first introduced, artists could not really think of it outside the context of television. Their works were basically based in political critiques of the medium, performances, and experiments with time. Over time, however, television became less exciting, video had been in an art context for a little while, while at the same time the technology developed to allow for a disassociation of video from television. With improved video projection devises, large scale pieces could be made that had no real connection to television (if anything, they could now be linked more closely to film). With the flexibility of video projection, large scale installations could be made. Artists continued to create videos with political messages, but they were no longer directly associated with television. Installations and soundscapes allowed these pieces to also connect with audiences in a different way. Instead of watching a video restricted to a small screen, viewers could and can now be absorbed into an environment.

Unfortunately, one must actually experience an installation to fully understand it. Luckily, I ran into one today.

At the Museum of Anthropology at the University of British Columbia, they have a show up titled: “Border Zones: New Art Across Cultures.” Many of the pieces were created by artists specifically for the exhibition, all using very different media to comment on the question of our contemporary cross-cultural experience. French artist Tania Mouraud created a video installation titled Face to Face. The piece consisted of a loop of static shots of a garbage dump. A crane moved scrap metal and other trash from one pile to another, and trains loaded with scraps would sporadically travel across the screen. The soundscape was a combination of industrial noises—smashing steel, roaring engines, grinding, etc.—all mixed into a disconcerting, somewhat jarring white-noise (if that makes sense). The location was unspecific—it seemed to speak of the universality of metropolitan/consumer life and industrialization. Spending any time in the endless loop of abrasive images and noise caused one to become emotionally and physically uncomfortable—an effect that is only possible with installation.

This work was very political, yet the message did not seem trite. I do not know if this is due to the fact that the technology is more up-to-date, if it was the fact that it was immersive, or if it was simply that the political issues were more contemporary. I feel like the politics will become outdated, but I do not know if it will seem as silly as a lot of older video art has become. I also wonder if the reason I feel like some older video art is silly, is that we as a culture have a hard time taking antiquated (if I can use that term) technology seriously. It is kind of shocking how quickly 60s – 80s (and now even 90s) videos have become dated. It is something that seems unique to the medium (for example, even though photography equipment has changed over the years, older photographs do not lose their credibility). Is it the technology itself that makes these videos' issues seem dated? Cultural specificity is important, but then why does a political photograph or essay from the 70s, or for that matter a Barbara Kruger shopping bag, not seem silly? Why do we take those artworks seriously, and giggle at what seem like videos with ridiculous retro graphics, yet are just as—if not more—innovative (Good Morning, Mr. Orwell)?

Monday, April 19, 2010

phenomenological linguistics of video, or, Vito Acconci Masturbating


This week (by which I mean last week, this post is a little overdue), Maia and I watched more early of early video art’s OGs of sorts that we had missed last week—Acconci, Rosler, Paik, Serra, and the Vasulkas. Most of the artists vary in content, but many of them find a common link in either formal experimentation with video or the use of video to record/alter performance. This seemed to be the case for the videos we watched last week too—Ant Farm and Nauman in the performative camp; Hall, Hill, and Campus falling more into the formal experimentation. In this week’s videos I found Martha Rosler and Vito Acconci representing the performance camp, with Nam June Paik, Richard Serra, and the Vasulka couple representing formal experimentation. This isn’t to say that there isn’t overlap between the two camps, or that the artists in them dealt only with formal or performance specific topics; what is important is that these “two camps” existed because these methods speak to the era and how artists were integrating this new video technology into their phenomenological art-language.
Let’s start with Paik, Serra, and the Vasulkas in the “formal experimentation” corner. As Martha Rosler noted in our first week’s readings, Nam June Paik is in many people’s minds the mythologized godfather of video art. Experimenting with the formal qualities of video art would make sense as an early video artist because it represented a rich mine of new visual and temporal experience. TV manipulation effects like those in Paik’s “Beatles Electroniques” have been made and remade so many times that they have found their contemporary existence in screen savers and pre-made Final Cut effects. People in my and Maia’s generation are probably among the very last who will be able to vaguely remember the days of video effects like these being MTV-cool and seen on a tube television instead of recreated on a computer or flat-screen. The Vasulka’s “Switch! Monitor! Drift!” incorporates both video manipulation as well as the idea of simultaneity that so many artists gravitated to, yet our generation has become so used to security cameras that neither of these aspects sounds very novel. Just like when watching early film like “The Arrival of a Train”, in order to appreciate it you have to put aside any memories of television or opinions based on them so we can try to see these videos as the incredible new experiences they represented for people in their day.
Talking about these early videos simply as novel visual experiences, like 3D movies or laser shows today, is reductionist. Yes, these were stimulating new forms of experience, but many artists quickly moved past simple formal exploration and used this new imagery as a communication tool. For many early video artists like Dan Graham and Nam June Paik, the medium was integral to the message. Not surprisingly, the importance of the medium had to do with the fact that so much of what artists were critiquing was Television culture and its medium-specific phenomenology. Making written, painted, or photographic work about television culture is all well and good, but making video about that same subject to be seen on a TV monitor communicates with people in the same sensory language as is being discussed. To me, it seems similar to how parents can feed kids the most brilliant words of wisdom about how to deal with peer problems or dating and we’ll nod politely before pocketing their advice, but when actual friends, peers, dates, or life experience supplies them with the same advice, it makes much more of an impact. The advice from parents is in the same English language as that from a peer, just like how painting and video both use a similar visual language—the difference is that the latter seems to come from the subject itself.
Richard Serra’s “Television Delivers People” is a perfect example of this medium reflexive video art. The video is an essay about how TV is a form of mass social control that delivers YOU the viewer to markets and advertisers en masse and how YOU the viewer are the product of a TV and thus controlled by media corporations—it is in effect the beginnings of an important cultural critique that has is now mainly delivered to current generations in the form of bumper stickers. Serra could have released this same essay in a printed journal or magazine, but he chose to present it scrolling up a screen a television prompter with charming elevator music playing over it. He is embodying the medium to speak to you as TV to cut it open and show you the absurdities and forces within it—something broadcasting companies surely wouldn’t let their TV medium do.
Let’s turn now to the performative corner of video art with Martha Rosler and Vito Acconci. While Rosler definitely uses video in a dialogue about television imagery and culture reception through it, but the focal point of her pieces are the performances. In “Semiotics of the Kitchen”, she stands the kitchen with an apron, doing the ABC’s by presenting “Apron, Bowl, Chopper, …” in the most aggressively apathetic tone possible. Her performance is about gender construction, her use of video gives us the secondary implication that these constructs are being delivered through television. I found this to be true with all the pieces we watched of hers—a central concept with video as a secondary comment about the concept’s relationship to television culture.
The videos we watched by Vito Acconci also seemed to have this primary-secondary structure to them, though the medium-commentary is less overt than in Rosler’s videos. To say that television/medium commentary is less obvious is a bit of an understatement; Acconci’s videos are a lot of things—bizarre, uncomfortable, sexual—but clear is not one of them. To me, his videos represent both the beauty and frustration that comes from what an MFA gives people license to do. If an uneducated man tried to masturbate in front of people he would be arrested, but because Acconci has a solid education and theory base for doing so he is validated as an artist. The themes of sexuality, power, and public-private space are interesting; at some point though, it’s still a hairy naked man rubbing one off.
To return to his theory base though, Acconci’s article we read is discussion of video installation and its role in re-contextualizing television as both its physical existence as furniture in American homes as well as the immateriality of television images. In the essay, he describes how when television was being pushed into people’s homes advertisers domesticated television technology by presenting it in homes as analogous to other already domestic objects—furniture. That people would domesticate technology like this makes sense, trying to place object-technology in a household would otherwise look awkward and out of place. So while the TV industry may not have been conspiring when they presented it as furniture, Acconci’s does have a point about the problem of TVs domestic presence making viewers more passive in their reception of information and culture through it.
What Acconci, Morse, and Graham all held in common with their essays was the importance of viewing video installation in person. We can get the idea of what an artist was trying to do by reading about it, but the effect and phenomenological meaning of any given piece is largely lost in translation. Luckily, Maia and I will be going down to Seattle soon to see some installations and videos. The necessity of experiencing video installation in person also has a tint of irony to it because, as Morse points out, in order for there to be an installation the artist needs a space, which is generally funded by larger institutions. So, while so much of video art and video installation exists to critique hegemonic media, the space utilized for their installation pieces is generally funded by one or another of them. You hear this commercial lineage story all the time now days about products and television channels, but I had never really thought about it in relation to the seemingly “infallible art gallery”. In another way, the fact that many of these spaces are provided by big industry almost serves to further the message of the artist. In these installations, not only is the artist using the television medium to critique it, they’re using its funding as well.
Until next week!
Essays we read:
Vito Acconci
- Television, Furniture, and Sculpture: The Room with the American View
Margaret Morse
- Video Installation Art: The Body, the Image, and the Space-in-Between
Dan Graham
- Video in Relation to Architecture
Videos we watched:
Martha Rosler
Semiotics of the Kitchen –
Vital Statistics of a Citizen, Simply Obtained - http://www.ubu.com/film/rosler_vital.html
Secretes from the Street: No Disclosure - http://www.ubu.com/film/rosler_secrets.html
Martha Rosler Reads Vogue –
Nam June Paik
- Edited for Television –
- Beatles Electroniques –
- Zen for Film –
- Good Morning Mr. Orwell -
Richard Serra
- Television Delivers People -http://www.ubu.com/film/serra_television.html
- Railroad Turnbridge -
Vito Acconci
Steina and Woody Vasulka

Saturday, April 10, 2010

Modernist Practices in Early Video Art

As detailed in Marita Sturken’s “Paradox in the Evolutions of an Art Form: Great Expectations and the Making of a History,” early video artists took many different approaches. The political climate of the 1960s and 1970s—when video technology became readily available—caused video art to be inherently political, however, as a new medium, they were not really sure how to use it. Sturken stated that, “for many, video represented a tool with which to ‘revolt’ against the establishment of commercial television. For others, it was an art medium with which to wage ‘war’ on the establishment of the commercial art world” (106-107). Video was directly associated with television, so artists used it to comment directly on mass media. (For example, Ant Farm’s Media Burn, in which they drove a Cadillac into a wall of television screens.) Other artists created pieces with the intention of having them broadcast, as a sort of alternative to mass-produced television. One way artists did this was to work with the technical aspects of video, experimenting with it as an artistic medium.

Many artists at the time, while concerned with the political relevance of their work, were primarily interested in this new electronic process of image creation. Video was not seen as an archival medium (whereas film was), it was instead associated with immediacy. Video is instantly reproducible, and for the first time, artists were able to be disseminated images to many different locations, simultaneously. Artists were not that concerned with getting high quality images, instead they were more interested in capturing reality in real time (Sturken 103). Along with immediacy of distribution, came the ability to manipulate the images artistically at the moment of capture. This allowed for artists to easily experiment with the aesthetic qualities of the medium, as they were recording. While all of this is tied to a cultural context, the artwork created by these artists was groundbreaking for purely aesthetic reasons.

Characteristic of explorations of the medium was a sort of self-reflexivity. This came partly from the instantaneous quality inherent to video, as well as the fact that they were testing the limits of medium—thus they had to directly address the medium itself. Artists would videotape themselves in their explorations of time and space (for example Bruce Nauman’s performance pieces, and Peter Campus’ work, such as Double Vision and Three Transitions), and they would use techniques only possible with simultaneous videotaping (again, see Campus’ Double Vision and Three Transitions). These qualities are exemplary of tendencies in Modernist art, and while Sturken argues against the validity of using Modernist formalist theories to analyze video art, I feel it is appropriate, especially with Garry Hill’s work.

All of Gary Hill’s videos (that we watched) reflect the medium itself, and the idea of an autonomous artist. Some are purely aesthetic manipulations of the video image (Mirror Road, Bathing), but in others he also directly addresses issues of authorship. For example, his series of videos (originally made with the intention of television broadcast) titled Soundings. The video is made up of a number of short pieces based on the visual and aural exploration of a loud speaker. He videotapes his interactions with the speaker as his recorded voice (played back through the speaker) describes the relationship between the sound, image, artist and viewer. While some of the segments can be almost absurd (“I have my finger on it. Moving it. … I want to put your finger on it.”), the artist’s description of his own actions is basically the most self-reflexive one can get (although it is not the most reflexive of the medium itself). There is no ambiguity about what he is trying to say, he is telling you directly what he is doing through, and to, the technology.

After the first couple segments, Hill starts to use other materials to interact with the speaker. The third or fourth segment starts with the speaker centered in the frame. It begins to repeat, “Bury the sound, imaging the skin space, underground,” in what becomes a melodic chant. As his recorded voice repeats the message, he starts to slowly poor sand onto the speaker. The vibrating speaker causes the sand to jump with his words, and as more sand is piled onto it, the sand settles and shifts, and the voice becomes muffled. He continues pouring sand onto it until the sound is entirely muted. By burying the speaker, he causes the viewer to see the actual sound waves, as he buries and stifles the sound itself. In the water piece (“Watering the sound, imaging the skin space.”) the transformation of sound into image is even more apparent.

Gary Hill's Soundings is exemplary of the self-consciousness of then new medium. It is necessary to use a formalist analysis to fully understand it, because he is directly addressing form. While video art definitely does need to be considered within its cultural context, as well as from a postmodernist point of view, there are benefits of using a formalist analysis, at least on earlier video art. The pieces were political, yes, but they were also experiments in a new medium. Artists were testing the formal qualities of video, and thus created self-reflexive pieces that have very interesting, purely aesthetic, qualities that deserve consideration in and of themselves.

Early Video

Early video

With the exception of Ant Farm’s “Media Burn”, the selection of early video art Maia and I watched this week didn’t deal too heavily with its history like our readings did. Nauman’s videos were good examples of how performance artists used video in its early days. The titles of his videos are pretty perfect descriptions of the video performances themselves—in “Pinch Neck”, Nauman pinches and grabs his neck skin in different ways for a few minutes; in “Walking in an exaggerated manner around the perimeter square”, Nauman walks slowly in an effeminate manner around a square; etc. The role of video in recording performance is interesting because before many performances were meant to be a unique, uncaptured and therefore uncommodifiable form of “anti-art”, and recording these performances on video provided a way to document them with another “anti-art” form. Though, as Martha Rosler notes all of this “anti-art” eventually became “anti-art art” because the art world “swelled to take them in”.

The next video we watched was Ant Farm’s “Media Burn” in which a Kennedy-esque “artist-president” gives speech above a TV that rails against the media and television then drives a Cadillac through a tower of flaming televisions. This video is embodies many of video art’s early elements: anti-television, anti-establishment, and collectivist mentality. The 60s and 70s had a swath of art collectives using video for a variety of reasons; groups like Ant Farm used video with egalitarian media proliferation and Marxist ideals in mind, others like Radiance were for-profit collectives concerned with formalist and theoretical issues.

One of the conceptual/theoretical based video artists we watched was Peter Campus. His videos “Double Vision” and “Three Transitions” are dry but interesting pieces dealing with methods of perception. Gary Hill’s videos on the other hand are more formal explorations of video technology as a new medium with videos that invert color, flicker, disintegrate and reintegrate. These videos only represent a tiny portion of the early video art though, partially because video is a rapidly deteriorating medium, causing many videos to have been lost. It is this ephermerality of video that Martha Rosler argues is was what caused video art be historicized so quickly and thus mythologized while it was still in its infancy.

Hopefully we’ll watch more videos next week than we did this week.

Articles we read:

Martha Rosler – “Video: Shedding the Utopian Moment”

Marita Sturken – “Paradox in the Evolution of an Art Form”

Videos we watched:
(All can be found on Ubuweb and/or Youtube)

Bruce Nauman – Manipulating a T Bar

- Pinch Neck

- Walking in an exaggerated manner around the perimeter square

- Stomping around the studio

Ant Farm – Media Burn

David Hall Video Interruptions

- Video inscriptions

Peter Campus – Double Vision

- Three Transitions

Gary Hill Mirror Road

- Bathing

- Soundings

- Electronic Linguistic

- Sums and Differences

- Windows

- Objects with Destinations