| Projekt#.  Essay by Sally Ann McIntyre
 Dick Higgins, Fluxus artist  and writer, wrote in 1966 that ‘much of the best work being produced today  seems to fall between media’. No real coincidence, then, that while having  origins in the filmic and radiophonic technological developments of the early  twentieth century, video art’s emergence from the nascent technologies of  television also happened around this time. Now 40 years old, video is,  arguably, the predominant postmodern meta-medium in its capacity to mix and  dissolve the boundaries between media, to combine with and expand media, and to  provide commentary on contemporary media saturated social realities. An  invaluable insight into recent Australian video art, Projekt#, curated  by Brendan Lee, is a travelling video archive documenting the work of artists  using video in art contexts, much of which was originally destined for showing  in the gallery space. Projekt# serves a dual function; to gather and  document the localised history of video in Australia, and to serve as  distribution system for new artists working within the genre.  Video art’s roots in the  domestic space of television afford it an intimacy unknown to film, and  personal video recorders have collapsed the distinction, preserved in film,  between lived reality and the space of the media. Reality television is the  most explicit statement of this. Artists in the Projekt# series draw  upon such ideas in a variety of ways, including exploring the potential of home  video and the internet to document hidden aspects of domestic realities. Kathy  Bossinakis’ cry, for example, shows a markedly abject,  adolescent-sociopathic list of (obviously fake) tortures enacted by a central  female character on a cat, like Carolee Schneemann without the utopianism, as  seen through the warped lens of the Chapman brothers. Elsewhere, in Matthew  Griffin’s All eyes on Amin a dead girl on a pristine white ground spews  blood from her mouth to a soundtrack of speed metal. More stark and simple gestures  are foregrounded in Lyndal Jones’ crying man 1, which in its depiction  of a man crying against a bluescreen background is a succinct statement of  video’s potential to zoom in both neutrally and incisively on the human  subject. Jones’ piece was also shown as it was installed in a gallery setting,  an attempt to portray the way in which the audio echoes in the space, and the  way in which sound is, necessarily, an important component of video work.  The loop as a structural  device is seen most succinctly in Emil Goh’s 1 minute at 9, and Daniel  von Sturmer and Meri Bazevski’s Driveway Sequence, both of which use  editing techniques to restructure linear concepts of time into lulling repetitive  mantras. Leslie Eastman’s two works, Eraserhead and Several  Provisional Contingencies not necessarily precluding the eventuality of  Reconciliatory Union utilise similar concepts toward a reinvigoration of  the medium of drawing, with each sketchy gesture enacted by the artist  resisting the pull toward finality and definitiveness through the potential of  video editing to rewind and erase events. The influence of popular culture - especially,  perhaps, the music video - is everywhere, whether this be literally, in Philip  Brophy’s clip for Honeysmack, which, referencing the cross-dressing Freddie  Mercury, traces a musician’s search for his audience around the Melbourne suburbs,  or in work such as the Kingpins’ Versus, which uses archival footage  from the Leigh Bowery estate to re-enact Aerosmith and Run DMC’s walk this  way, in a collaboration that time-leaps to the Eighties.  Britney Spears appears not  once but twice, in Kate Murphy’s Britney Love, a faux-documentary biopic  that explores the sexualising of prepubescent girl pop culture, and Sue Dodd’s Fears  for Spears, a performance-based piece that draws heavily both on music  video and karaoke. Dodd sets her analysis of celebrity culture and media  surveillance to a squelchy electro acid soundtrack, bringing to mind the Grunt  Machine video catalogue, seen at the Physics Room in 1999, in which New Zealand  artists explored connections between video art and the music video.  Sally Ann McIntyre 
 View Projekt#. Essay by Sally Ann McIntyre   as a PDF 
 This essay originally appeared in  The Physics Room Annual 2004ISBN 0-9582651-2-7
 Order your copy today from The Physics Room !View order form
 
 Related				 2 - 27 March, 2004  PROJEKT#Australian video art
 Curated by Brendan Lee
 
   |