My favourite piece, and the one I spent the most time with, was Meiro Koizumi's Human Opera XXX (2007).
Meiro Koizumi, Human Opera XXX, 2007, 17 min , Single Channel VideoCourtesy: Nicole Klagsburn Gallery, New York
Set in a kind of artist's studio/low budget science fiction set, the video documents a series of ongoing exchanges between the artist and his subject: a dignified but very sad man (who, Tamir's curatorial essay tells us, responded to an ad Koizumi placed in the newspaper asking for people who could discuss their personal tragedies for a fee) who is attempting to relate a story of alcoholism, family disputes and recovery. His tale is constantly interrupted by Koizumi, or Kozuimi's filmmaker persona, who makes requests that the narrator change different elements of his costuming and the props around him in order to add "drama" to the tale.
Although Koizumi's requests are absurd, the man complies with all of them until he is covered in permanent marker graffiti, clumps of crumpled aluminum foil and toilet paper and is mumbling through a large baguette stuffed in his mouth.
Although Koizumi's requests are absurd, the man complies with all of them until he is covered in permanent marker graffiti, clumps of crumpled aluminum foil and toilet paper and is mumbling through a large baguette stuffed in his mouth.
Meiro Koizumi, Human Opera XXX, 2007, 17 min , Single Channel VideoCourtesy: Nicole Klagsburn Gallery, New York
Though the man looks completely silly, there is nothing humorous about his story or the way he tells it, and the spectacle of his awkward positioning and gestures actually seems to add to his depth and courage as a protagonist who is confessing his personal tragedy to strangers. As Tamir makes clear in her own writing, the seemingly neutral act of documenting people speaking about themselves is never objective or uncomplicated and, in these cases, consistently becomes "a loaded exercise in power dynamics."
Those power dynamics are made overt in the other videos in the show, particularly in Israeli artists Maayan Amir and Ruti Sela's Beyond Guilt (2003-05) video trilogy. Interviewing clientele at seedy nightclubs in Tel Aviv, the videos chronicle a host of unique personalities that are formed in opposition to, or indirectly as a result of, cultural and political tensions in the city.
Maayan Amir and Ruti Sela, video still from Beyond Guilt, 2003-2005
Those power dynamics are made overt in the other videos in the show, particularly in Israeli artists Maayan Amir and Ruti Sela's Beyond Guilt (2003-05) video trilogy. Interviewing clientele at seedy nightclubs in Tel Aviv, the videos chronicle a host of unique personalities that are formed in opposition to, or indirectly as a result of, cultural and political tensions in the city.
Maayan Amir and Ruti Sela, video still from Beyond Guilt, 2003-2005The variety of personae that are presented to the camera throughout the show not only underscore the performativity of everyday life, but also raise questions about the role of the camera in documentary photography and video practices. While the idea that the camera is in some way objective, truthful or disinterested seems clichéd in contemporary art theory, in practice it still seems to provide a mediating distance between artist and subject and serves as a kind of excuse for the confessional narrators to open up to the artist in a way they would not without the presence of the camera.
My only complaint with the show are the provisional looking particle board benches that are provided at each viewing station. Although they're visually cohesive and unique, they're also uniquely uncomfortable and their design made it almost impossible to read the wall captions and determine who made each piece. Otherwise, "Life Stories" is pretty flawless; carefully curated, it provides a considered survey of the subtleties and political implications of documentary-style video practice and offers a wealth of complexities to consider over multiple viewings.
My only complaint with the show are the provisional looking particle board benches that are provided at each viewing station. Although they're visually cohesive and unique, they're also uniquely uncomfortable and their design made it almost impossible to read the wall captions and determine who made each piece. Otherwise, "Life Stories" is pretty flawless; carefully curated, it provides a considered survey of the subtleties and political implications of documentary-style video practice and offers a wealth of complexities to consider over multiple viewings.
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3 comments:
I recently saw that show too. TPW has definitely got a thing for video-art/doc these days. The Meiro Koizumi piece was by far the most challenging for me, however, I'm not sure yet if I like it or not. I've been thinking about ever since I watched it. My problem with the work has to be around the frame that Tamir provides. I don't think the ethical boundary that Koizumi crosses is necessarily worth the result. Tamir says that the work makes it clear that mediation is a constant in and documentary work, but that still seems like a fairly general statement and seems kind of obvious. Considering the humilation the subject endures, it doens't seem like enough for me.
However, what I'm most hooked by is the level of humilation the man allows himself to be subjected to. It's like he's punishing himself to deal with his guilt.
TPW seems really into these ethically challenging works lately (see Artur Zmijewski) especially works that fit under the umbrella of doc. However, its usually video-artists moving towards doc rather than 'traditional doc makers'. That might be just a semantic difference, but i feel like I'm seeing video artists move into doc and do more experimental things. I also seem to see a trend of video artists being unethical on camera, rather than in the editing room where traditional doc makers take their liberties.
Just some loose thoughts.
Thanks for the loose thoughts, Rob, and especially the perspective from a documentary practice point of view. I think you're bang on with the comment about the subject in Koizumi's video willfully participating in the humiliation and getting something out of it. I think that's what I found sort of refreshing about the piece: that it didn't claim to be objective or honest or even productive, but sort of reveled in the ethical implications of this kind of documentary work and tried to make explicit the power dynamics that are always at play in these situations.
And the distinction between being unethical in front of the camera rather than from behind the editing booth is an important one. Do you think there is something more productive about creating potentially problematic work in front of the camera rather than hiding behind post production instead?
It's hard to say if it's more productive to do unethical deeds on camera as opposed to off (in post). I guess I have to ask what we mean by productive? I guess the viewer gets to see it, so in that sense it adheres to the tradition of documentary by showing the seams of production. These video artists are pushing the idea of the performative documentary into a new realm (Stella Bruzzi uses that term, although I would argue video artists or visual artists have been doing this kind of work a long time before she pointed it out in the doc field). They are much more aggressive than Michael Moore or Nick Broomfield when it comes to pushing their subjects, especially when you consider that their subjects are not political or public figures (like in Moore's docs), but are regular people who are placing themselves in the hands of "the artist". Their often seems to be a kind of respect that the subject has for the maker that then gets used against them. There's an aspect of torture (too harsh a word?) in these pieces.
At the same time, Zmijewski's work blew my mind, and I loved it. And maybe that's the underlining issue, and also the scary trend, that we as viewers are really getting into this intensely voyeuristic experience and are accepting of these practices because we enjoy the results.
However, Koizumi does edit his piece more often as we get into the negotiations with the subject. The video starts with several long takes with some minor jump cuts. At first, when Koizumi starts asking the guy to hold an item or whatever for aesthetic reasons, we see the negotiation. But as it continues, the jump cuts come quicker and we don't see what actually transpired between them. This aspect is also what made me uncomfortable with the piece because we only see some of that negotiation, and it escalates to the point that the man has a sandwich stuck in his mouth and he's drooling. He also continues to tell the story while Koizumi screams into a tube and I'm forced to wonder how did it get this far??? Yet Koizumi doesn't let us see that part, or what transpired when he pushed it further and further. He also doesn't let us hear/see (the subtitle) the man's final line in the story. It sounds like the man is about to tell us that he crashed his car killing his daughter, but we don't know. It raises the question: does it matter? But also begs the question: Did the man get his redemption by enduring this humilation publicly if the story was not completed? And if not, then aren't we all implicated (artist, viewer, gallery) for taking part in making, watching, programming this piece? If that is the main idea Koizumi is working with, then I still find it too obvious and I find the process unneccessary. I'm torn between liking the piece but also feeling like I already understood all the implications it makes, and therefore have to question if the treatment of that man was necessary.
I definitely feel like I get more out of Zmijewski's work because it seems more raw and bare-bones. We see his manipulation, we judge him as much as the subject. We watch them process the situation. I suppose one of the most intersting aspects is watching people deal with situations that we don't often engage in nor do we often create. We get to be a voyeur in an incredibly tense and uncomfortable situation, however we see the process that these people go through to negoitiate that situation.
That's my take? What do you think?
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