Foray into Video Art

Recent exhibits in the Greater Boston area afforded me the opportunity to learn about the video art genre, a category of filmmaking with which I had little prior exposure. At the Institute of Contemporary Art Boston, I saw Nathalie Djurberg and Hans Berg’s A World of Glass (2011) and then, Ragnar Kjartansson’s The Visitors (2013), and at the MIT List Visual Arts Center, I saw Yael Bartana’s And Europe Will be Stunned: The Polish Trilogy (2007-2011) as part of the 9 Artists exhibition. The ideas and goals behind the projects became apparent to me only after I researched and contemplated the works. Each artist created a unique environment into which his or her viewers could become immersed; all of their work had layered meanings that weren’t necessarily grasped in one sitting; and the works posed physical, psychological and intellectual challenges for the viewer.

For each of these works, the viewer doesn’t just watch a video, rather she walks into a world created by the artists. In Djurberg and Berg’s A World of Glass, the viewer enters a darkened room with four claymation projections, one on each of the four walls, with hundreds of crystal-like polyurethane sculptures (cast from household objects) sitting on illuminated tables, and with a unifying soundscape (Stothart 3,7). One feels as though one is entering a Gumby-like fantasy world, where animals and humans interact and play. The glass-like sounds bouncing back and forth in the room work together with the sculptures and videos. All the components are in sync. According to composer Hans Berg, the soundscape is “the glue between the film and the installation and the glass sculptures” (Camden).

Yael Bartana’s And Europe Will Be Stunned comprises a trilogy of three films: Mary Koszmary (Nightmares, 2007), Mur I Wieza (Wall and Tower, 2009) and Zamach (Assassination, 2011). Viewers sit on benches and watch them theatre style. The work advocates for the return of three million Jews to Poland to heal the mutual trauma [of the Holocaust] of Poles and Jews (Bartana 126). Viewers are enveloped by Bartana’s views and ideas, fictitious or real. The propagandizing in the films is directed as much to them as it is to the characters in the film. Does she intend for the viewers to become mesmerized by the ideology? Heavy stacks of 26 by 36-inch “Jewish Renaissance Movement in Poland” manifesto posters, in Polish, English, or Hebrew, are available as giveaways. Are we expected to hang them on our walls? The “movement” embraces all people; the manifesto states: “We direct our appeal not only to Jews. We accept into our ranks all those for whom there is no place in their homelands—the expelled and the persecuted”  (Bartana 126).

In The Visitors (2013), Ragnar Kjartansson invites viewers to a magical concert in a beautiful, run-down stucco mansion at Rokeby Farm in upstate New York–to watch and listen to a group of musicians from Iceland. The viewer enters a darkened room at the ICA where eight large screens each presents a different room where a musician is singing and playing an instrument (drums, grand piano, guitar, accordion, or banjo) in unison with the other performers. The lighting and cinematography beautifully capture the charm of the setting, and each musician is seen as if in a painting (Sheets 1). A ninth screen shows a group of the musicians’ friends gathered on the front porch, singing and performing along. The musicians are connected to each other only through sound coming from their microphones and headphones. The viewers are the audience of this unique performance and essentially meander through the rooms of the house to listen to, watch, and get closer to the artists.

Each of these works has layered meanings, which may not be grasped immediately. Djurberg and Berg’s work revolves around desire, compassion, fear, love, pain, regret, and grief, where the characters ignore the unwritten laws of social conduct (Stothart 1). The four animations, Didn’t you know I’m made of butter? My body is a house of glass, I’m a wild animal, and Monster, are narratives where human and animal characters are in seemingly playful situations that become evil, perverse and often violent (Stothart 3). The animations show graphic scenes of violence and bestiality, as in My body is a house of glass, where a nude black woman’s foot caught in a jawed metal trap is gnawed off by a fox and eaten by a boar. Djurberg wants the viewer to assess and evaluate the situations she presents, and does not offer a moral lesson (Stothart 3). Anna Stothart, Assistant Curator at the ICA, makes one such assessment—according to her, the glass house harbors the woman’s painful inner encounter with the conflicting aspects of herself represented by the animals (Stohart 4). Djurberg has said that watching a hardcore porn film as a 12-year-old girl in biology class, screened with the teacher’s permission, was a formative experience for her (Princenthal 95).

Yael Bartana’s trilogy contains many layers of complexity that reflect her personal struggles as an Israeli. The viewer wonders if the work, advocating for resettlement in Poland, is a political project or fiction crafted to seem real (Lingwood 128). Her manifesto contributes to the authentic feeling of the project. She uses both actors and real characters playing themselves: Slawomir Sierakowski, for example, a left-wing Polish politician, plays himself, and so does Israeli author and Holocaust survivor, Alona Frankel (Lingwood 128). For those viewers familiar with the history of the State of Israel, the second film, Mur I Wieza (Wall and Together), recalls the early pioneers of Palestine of the 1930s, who toiled to build kibbutzim. Helmar Lerski’s 1935 film Avodah, commissioned by the Jewish National Fund to encourage Jews to settle in Palestine, is referenced in Bartana’s film Wall and Together (Mytkowska 132). In her article “The Return of the Stranger,” Joanna Mytkowska discusses how Bartana came to Poland with her experience of struggling with Israel’s policies toward the Palestinians and decided to address in her project strained Polish-Jewish relations, nascent anti-Semitism and the roots of the Jewish state, which are largely Polish (130). Mythkowska says,

The experience of And Europe Will Be Stunned is reminiscent of the therapeutic process, and, like a dream interpreted, the work gradually reveals layers of latent meaning. The complex narrative evokes conflicting associations, ideas, and desires that are not easily resolved; it is a study in exposure, revealing the symptoms of a trauma that has not yet been worked through (130).

         Ragnar Kjartansson’s The Visitors seems less complex than the previous two works. The song’s main lyric is “Once again, I fall into my feminine ways,” lasts less than 20 seconds, and is repeated over the course of an hour, with beautiful, shifting harmonies and varied instrumentation (Smee 3). To know a little about Ragnar Kjartansson’s work, is to better understand The Visitors. He’s a performance artist who has spent more than a decade exploring the potential of repetitive performance to yield unexpected meanings (Sheets 1). According to RoseLee Goldberg, Director of Performa, unlike performance art of the 1970s, which was difficult and politically engaged, Kjartansson’s work Bliss (2011)—a live 12-hour loop of a two-minute Mozart aria with full costumes, set, and orchestra—represents “endurance at a level of sheer ecstasy” (Sheets 2). As the son of two actors who accompanied his parents to theater rehearsals, he heard them repeat the same motions and dialogue over and over again in preparation for a production (Andresson 124). His work reflects his fascination with the way the same words can be made new through repetition (Sheets 2). Kjartansson uses endurance as a tool, but has little interest in exploring the body’s physical limits (Andresson 123). While Djurberg and Bartana, would characterize themselves as storytellers, Kjartansson considers his works a kind of “anti-storytelling” because they’re always about a feeling and there is no story (Sheets 2).

         Each of these video art exhibits posed physical, psychological or intellectual demands on me. Ignorant of video art, I expected to be entertained and have a relaxing break from bustle of day-to-day life. I wanted to lose myself in the same way as watching a good film. This didn’t happen. The content of Djurberg and Berg’s A World of Glass was disturbing. I questioned why claymations depicting bestiality were acceptable in a respectable museum setting, while outside of the museum, they would be branded as taboo. Even though I was familiar the historical background of Bartana’s films, I found myself lost at various intervals and bored, and wondered how someone less informed would experience the viewing. Finally, I was daunted by the expectation that I would have to walk around for 64 minutes to fully experience Kjartansson’s The Visitors.

I’m not yet sure if I’ll venture into video art in my own documentary work. This summer I did dabble in it for my project “Summer Diary 2014,” depicting 30-second to 1-minute landscapes in Israel with scrolling "news updates" at the bottom, reflecting my personal thoughts and experiences of living there during a time of war. As was suggested by my advisor Ben Sloat, this work can be shown in a traditional film format or as a multi-channel installation. While my work might morph into video art, I can’t see myself emulating the tactics of Bartana by founding a pseudo-movement to advocate for change, or of Djurberg and Berg by creating shocking, disquieting stories. I prefer to take a subdued, subtle approach to rendering my message. Nevertheless, learning about their work has helped me broaden my understanding that multi-faceted installations can enhance storytelling.

                                                Works Cited

Andresson, Markus. “The Lure of Repetition.” Parkett 94 (2014): 122-127. Print.

Bartana, Yael. “The Jewish Renaissance Movement In Poland: A Manifesto.” And Europe Will Be Stunned: The Polish Trilogy. Eds. James Lingwood and Eleanor Nairne. London: Artangle, 2011. Print.

Camden Arts Centre. Nathalie Djurberg with music by Hans Berg A World of Glass. Vimeo.com. Vimeo: 24 May 2012. Web. 30 Sept. 2014.< http://vimeo.com/42756103>

Lingwood, James and Eleanor Nairne, Eds. And Europe Will Be Stunned: The Polish Trilogy. London: Artangle, 2011. Print.

Mytkowska, Joanna. “The Return of the Stranger.” And Europe Will Be Stunned: The Polish Trilogy. London: Artangle, 2011. Print.

Princenthal, Nancy. “Spellbound: Nathalie Djurberg.” The Reckoning: Women Artists of the New Millennium. New York: Prestel Publishing, 2013. Print.

Sheets, Hilarie M. “Never Tiring of Repeating Himself.” Nytimes.com. 1 Jan. 2013. Web. 28 Sept. 2014. < http://www.nytimes.com/2013/01/06/arts/design/the-visitors-by-ragnar-kjartansson.html?pagewanted=all&_r=2&pagewanted=print&>

Smee, Sebastian. “Hipster musicians in a video masterpiece.” Bostonglobe.com. 24 July 2014. Web. 28 Sept. 2014.< http://www.bostonglobe.com/arts/theater-art/2014/07/24/hipster-musicians-from-iceland-view-video-masterpiece/IYqyl5W7LNuutpPfMc55PI/story.html>

Stothart, Anna. Nathalie Djurberg and Hans Berg: A World of Glass. Boston: The Institute of Contemporary Art, 2014. Print.