“The many types of video art have been made with a variety of intentions, ideas, working styles, and structures. Some address pure aesthetic concerns, where others prioritize content in less formal but still original and more deeply personal ways.” Kate Horsfield, “Introduction to the Video Data Bank Collections,” Feedback, 2006.

(Here you should see Kate Horsfield interviewed in the 1970s about video, but Google video won’t let me embed. You can also see my interview with her for the 1990s Women of Vision, here.)

If everything on YouTube is video art (at least the stuff made by individuals and not corporations), but very little of this art can be ever finally understood as such because it wasn’t really made to be art and won’t be recognized as such either, even if it was (unless it goes off YouTube gaining sanction, context, and community along the way), then it is the archivist (the curator, the choreographer, the tour guide) who becomes the final, visible, verifiable YouTube artist by herself making visible the links (to other forms, communities, ideas) that the artist alone might once have made (off-line in a place on a box for an audience). See the work of Natalie Bookchin, for example:


I had the pleasure of attending 2/3 days of this impressively large and diverse symposium organized by my friends and colleagues, Ming-Yuen Ma and Carol Stakenas from LACE. This post is not a review, but rather an attempt to crystalize connections between some of the work and conversation that I found most provocative. After this word, I couldn’t help but begin where the conference did, with the work of Wafaa Bilal who has created several interactive media projects based upon a shared logic and structure of first-person shooter games and our current war in Iraq.

Waafa’s work inspired fruitful dialogue at the symposium about the significance of context and other authorial controls within the field of contemporary video art or video art within a new media environment, (here meaning video practices that are networked, mobile, and viewable across platforms rather than stand-alone in a museum or monitor). Whereas some “old-school” video artists might have been done when they crafted the discrete piece, new media conditions have forced focused artistry around extra-textual questions–about building (and managing) audience and supporting information, as well as systems of interaction and engagement–that might have only once been on the map of “activist” videomakers. Waafa explained that he made “dynamic” not “didactic” work that created a new public forum, mirroring life, where critical questions could be played out and with. While many of us were concerned that this allowed participants to primarily publicly restage their already strongly held positions, desires, and commitments Waafa seemed satisfied with this outcome (that, for instance, a large portion of the players on his piece, Shoot an Iraqi, came to it–and him–as paint ball enthusiasts rather than through an engagement with  war, zenophobia, or racism).

I continued to think about these questions contextual in relation to seeing Natalie Bookchin’s Trip (2008), a 63 minute video installation composed of moving landscapes shot from cars, often with music accompanying, and culled from Youtube. Bookchin told us that after many years of highly successful tactical media work with the groups @rtMark and Yes Men, she’s needed to move things OFF of mainstream media platforms, to restage them in the real world, where there is less noise, and in counter-distinction to Waafa’s work, more room for authorial and spectatorial structure (and perhaps contemplation and even dialogue). Later, we also spoke together about the waning power of satire (a staple for tactical media) as it becomes the dominant tonality, and my recent concern (expressed in posts below) that YouTube media, specifically, has to strive to say what it means, rather than relying on smug reference and repetitive asides.

Finally, along this vein of context, place and tone, I watched a productive encounter between video artists Maria Diaz and Alex Villar. os_hydrant

Both artists videotape the placement of their own bodies into difficult spaces. However, where Alex’s are the hidden in-betweens of generic offices and city spaces, where he uncomfortably but artfully wedges his body, Maria’s are entirely personal and local sites: a field in Guatemala where she walks and carries her pre-adolescent daughter, a central town square where she produces poetry for passers-by. The project of inserting oneself tactically into the ubiquitous flow of daily media military corporate life is quite distinct from the intervention (Jennifer Doyle’s term) of a specific body, with an overt position, into a particular place.

It seems critical, but also a little difficult, for me to note how highly gendered these divergent (but related) practices played out for me at the symposium: women artists insisting upon the specificity of their bodies and beliefs (ho hum), and male ones making larger more open-ended claims about the gendered and raced but mediated body (we’ve been here before!). Men using humor, women getting serious. I am the first to acknowledge that none of these strategies are in and of themselves gendered, but I will also affirm that for the three days of Resolutions3 they played out for me, fruitfully, in these terms.