My experience with the Act/React show was filled with delight, which I now consider first an artistic playground, and second an exploration into the possibilities of modern art. Of all the works, Daniel Rozin's Snow Mirror and Scott Snibb's Deep Walls spoke to my interests the most. The reason I want to refer to my own experience lies in interactive art's ability to offer a unique experience to each viewer. However, "viewer" is not the best way to describe the person interacting with the art, so I will offer the word "performer" instead. A performer usually works with a writer or a director to act out a play or scene in a film. In the case of interactive art, I see the artist as the writer, the actual work as the stage, and the person interacting as the performer taking advantage of the artist's special stage.
This is especially true with Snibb's Deep Walls, as it is simply a collection of shadows which seem to have a desire to show off. The squares that each contained a performers shadow ranged from waves to dances to zombie walks and even a cartwheel, and the list of performances is infinite. Infinite is an important word to consider along side interactive art, since every piece of art at the Act/React gallery had no limited amount of possibilities. Of course, this does not separate interactive art from a painting, sculpture, or film, which all have an infinite amount of interpretations. However, interactive art seems to be concerned more with a physical interpretation that includes activity as well as analysis. In my own experience, I found my connection with Deep Walls, Snow Mirror, and all the other works to be similar: first I would figure out how the installation worked, then I would attempt to push every boundary I could think of, once the boundaries were found I would then try to create something appealing. With Snibb's work I attempted a zombie walk, which I was thoroughly pleased with. The final action was to step back and try to decipher what was so appealing to interact with a piece of art. Never before I had seen someone attempt a cartwheel in a museum.
With Rozin's Snow Mirror, the interaction was less playful, but more appealing to the eye. The odd formation that the snow created of my image imposed of feeling of familiarity. Using the word "mirror" in the title was an excellent choice, since the most interesting aspect of the work was identifying yourself in the digital pattern of falling snow and a black background. While I was viewing the mirror, a father walked in with his child strapped in a baby carrier on his chest. When this occurred I realized that the mirror was just an abstract portrait painting that would never be the same twice. The father took the baby's hands and waved them towards the mirror, which seemed to be a trend in all the installations that changed the image of the performer. Is the greeting a way to ensure that it is in fact you who is shaping the art, and not just a tricky computer program?
Overall, interactive art is a new medium that I hope to see more of. The idea of an artist being able to connect with their audience in such a physical way is profound in that it breaks down a wall that might hold one back from appreciating new artwork. Instead of questioning whether or not the installation is truly art, one can simply play and move on, or push the installation to its limits.
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Film Festivals & The Auteurs Notebook
The Auteurs Cinema is a website that is dedicated to the promotion of a new medium for film and video, the internet. While the main part of the website will eventually be dedicated to streaming videos, the Auteurs Cinema currently has a dedicated journal of editorials on international cinema. This journal offers insight on films being screened across the globe that one might not ever have the chance to learn about without the help of the internet. The actual writing offers critical analysis and important information many films, but what seems to be a strong point of the notebook, is the capturing of films screened at film festivals.
A few recent posts illustrate this in the notebook's coverage of the Bangkok International Film Festival (BKKIFF) and the New York Film Festival (NYFF). The coverage on both offered insight onto international films that definitely do not fit the Hollywood mold. For the NYFF, the notebook offers insight on such films as the Korean Night and Day, and an interview with Kiyoshi Kurosawa, who is famous for his Japanese horror films. Most of the reviews highlight the difficulty of seeing any of the films screened at the festival at another widespread release, and even the chances of a film making it to DVD. So if one could view Night and Day with an online hi-definition stream, the secret culture of film festival films could be broken down.
This is highlighted more so with the coverage of the Bangkok International Film Festival, which was highlighted this year with films that mesh cinema-verite documentary and fictional storytelling, with a Columbian film entitled PVC-1 that uses one 90 minute shot to capture a retelling of the true story of a woman who had a pipe bomb strapped around her neck as an incentive to pay a ransom. Again, the editorial on the films covered at the BKKIFF praises the films, and entices the reader to seek out these very peculiar films from so far away. The Auteurs Notebook is inviting the reader to seek out more information, since actually seeing the film might mean traveling half-way across the world. This is especially the case at the BKKIFF when films that will most likely only be screened at only a few festivals are banned only weeks ahead of time due to political disagreements between the filmmaker's topic choice and the festival's host country government.
The mission statement of the Auteurs Notebook is bold:
However, independent filmmakers are waiting for an internet venue that appreciates the "classic approach" to cinema, instead of the normal "Youtube" internet video. Although the website only contains the "notebook" portion, it will soon be a host for independent film all over the globe.
A few recent posts illustrate this in the notebook's coverage of the Bangkok International Film Festival (BKKIFF) and the New York Film Festival (NYFF). The coverage on both offered insight onto international films that definitely do not fit the Hollywood mold. For the NYFF, the notebook offers insight on such films as the Korean Night and Day, and an interview with Kiyoshi Kurosawa, who is famous for his Japanese horror films. Most of the reviews highlight the difficulty of seeing any of the films screened at the festival at another widespread release, and even the chances of a film making it to DVD. So if one could view Night and Day with an online hi-definition stream, the secret culture of film festival films could be broken down.
This is highlighted more so with the coverage of the Bangkok International Film Festival, which was highlighted this year with films that mesh cinema-verite documentary and fictional storytelling, with a Columbian film entitled PVC-1 that uses one 90 minute shot to capture a retelling of the true story of a woman who had a pipe bomb strapped around her neck as an incentive to pay a ransom. Again, the editorial on the films covered at the BKKIFF praises the films, and entices the reader to seek out these very peculiar films from so far away. The Auteurs Notebook is inviting the reader to seek out more information, since actually seeing the film might mean traveling half-way across the world. This is especially the case at the BKKIFF when films that will most likely only be screened at only a few festivals are banned only weeks ahead of time due to political disagreements between the filmmaker's topic choice and the festival's host country government.
The mission statement of the Auteurs Notebook is bold:
We believe it's time for a new, global, internet-based film venue. With a keen focus, style and a classic approach to cinema, we've dubbed our venture The Auteurs.
However, independent filmmakers are waiting for an internet venue that appreciates the "classic approach" to cinema, instead of the normal "Youtube" internet video. Although the website only contains the "notebook" portion, it will soon be a host for independent film all over the globe.
Monday, October 6, 2008
Art Encounter: Paul Chan, New Orleans, & Baghdad
Paul Chan’s work has enlightened my existence as a film student by showing what first appears as simplicity, may really contain. Specifically in Waiting for Godot and Baghdad in No Particular Order, Chan creates a work of art in just a few steps. For Baghdad, it required a camera and plane tickets to Iraq, and what unfolded was a snapshot of time before Iraq’s current existence, a state of war. For Godot, Chan repurposes a play and an outdoor space in which to produce it. However, there is obviously more than meets the eye in regards to the simplicity of Chan’s artwork. So instead of discussing simplicity, the work Chan produces is more about the impact that such simple ideas can hold.
Of course, Paul Chan’s projects are never confined to just one “part.” Baghdad also applies a website with a profound abundance of information, leading the viewer of the website to countless sources of information. The typical viewer of a film may peruse the internet for more information on a film he or she enjoyed or wanted to learn more about, but usually just finds information on the cast and crew and what the star of the film is doing next. But Chan’s site has more impact, it delivers extra information that furthers the film’s agenda. The agenda is not to sway or persuade the viewer, but to give a translation of what he encountered while creating his work. This concept of translation is even stronger in Waiting for Godot.
So much of what the modern individual learns is from a corporate media, whose goal is to quickly inform with minute detail, as to fit in enough commercial advertising between the sports report and weather report. Hurricane Katrina is no different, after countless news reports, Dateline specials, Presidential addresses, and watching Oprah travel to the Superdome, New Orleans is still waiting to be rebuilt to a point where its previous inhabitants can return knowing that their city will be there, although never the same. Paul Chan may have had this in mind when he decided to use Samuel Beckett’s Waiting for Godot. For those citizens of New Orleans who already returned or who never left, the “wait” needed to be addressed. While the production itself is simple, only requiring two main actors, “a country road, a tree, evening,” Godot had an impact on the community, who immediately recognized the relevance of the play. When a local play appears in a baptist ministers sermon, it is quite obvious that the community can feel the impact that a play can hold. Of course, all plays can be interpreted in different ways, but to citizens of a destroyed hometown, the interpretation is along the same general lines. The citizens of New Orleans are questioning why they are waiting for their home to be built, and what the chances of reconstruction occuring are. The relation to the play is so profound, it almost seems as if Waiting for Godot was written right after Hurricane Katrina destroyed New Orleans, not over fifty years ago. However, patience is constantly questioned, as it is human nature to constantly move and renew.
Chan’s work’s use simplicity in execution to empower simple concepts that have the impact of a meteor, whether we question our reasons for war on people that seem shockingly familiar, or we question our constant battle with patience. Battling with patience is even more difficult when the wait is for something that isn’t clear when it will happen or what it will be. Will New Orleans be a dystopian wasteland, will it take its destruction as a chance to improve, or will it simply exist as a collective of people waiting for some sort of answer as to what to do next?
Of course, Paul Chan’s projects are never confined to just one “part.” Baghdad also applies a website with a profound abundance of information, leading the viewer of the website to countless sources of information. The typical viewer of a film may peruse the internet for more information on a film he or she enjoyed or wanted to learn more about, but usually just finds information on the cast and crew and what the star of the film is doing next. But Chan’s site has more impact, it delivers extra information that furthers the film’s agenda. The agenda is not to sway or persuade the viewer, but to give a translation of what he encountered while creating his work. This concept of translation is even stronger in Waiting for Godot.
So much of what the modern individual learns is from a corporate media, whose goal is to quickly inform with minute detail, as to fit in enough commercial advertising between the sports report and weather report. Hurricane Katrina is no different, after countless news reports, Dateline specials, Presidential addresses, and watching Oprah travel to the Superdome, New Orleans is still waiting to be rebuilt to a point where its previous inhabitants can return knowing that their city will be there, although never the same. Paul Chan may have had this in mind when he decided to use Samuel Beckett’s Waiting for Godot. For those citizens of New Orleans who already returned or who never left, the “wait” needed to be addressed. While the production itself is simple, only requiring two main actors, “a country road, a tree, evening,” Godot had an impact on the community, who immediately recognized the relevance of the play. When a local play appears in a baptist ministers sermon, it is quite obvious that the community can feel the impact that a play can hold. Of course, all plays can be interpreted in different ways, but to citizens of a destroyed hometown, the interpretation is along the same general lines. The citizens of New Orleans are questioning why they are waiting for their home to be built, and what the chances of reconstruction occuring are. The relation to the play is so profound, it almost seems as if Waiting for Godot was written right after Hurricane Katrina destroyed New Orleans, not over fifty years ago. However, patience is constantly questioned, as it is human nature to constantly move and renew.
Chan’s work’s use simplicity in execution to empower simple concepts that have the impact of a meteor, whether we question our reasons for war on people that seem shockingly familiar, or we question our constant battle with patience. Battling with patience is even more difficult when the wait is for something that isn’t clear when it will happen or what it will be. Will New Orleans be a dystopian wasteland, will it take its destruction as a chance to improve, or will it simply exist as a collective of people waiting for some sort of answer as to what to do next?
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