Cast your Glance Back at Me

So you have swept me back,
I who could have walked with the live souls
above the earth,
I who could have slept among the live flowers
at last;

. . .

why did you turn back,
that hell should be reinhabited
of myself thus
swept into nothingness?

why did you glance back? 
why did you hesitate for that moment?
why did you bend your face
caught with the flame of the upper earth,
above my face?(1) 

Contemplating this excerpt from Eurydice by poet H.D., which retells the classical myth of Orpheus and Eurydice, opens a compelling avenue into the understanding of the exhibition Living Dead at the Walter Phillips Gallery. Featuring work by Jane Veeder, Ant Farm, General Idea, Max Almy and Mona Hatoum, as well as two sculptures cast in aluminum by Banff artist Jason Steppler, the exhibition questions the understanding of how institutions, curators and viewers can access important works of video art when it exists only in its fragile original format. All pieces included are VHS videos shown on U-Matic video players and played one by one, in order to preserve the work during the run of the exhibition. Living Dead incorporates an appreciation of casting a glance upon artwork. However, it equally turns this notion on its head by taking it beyond that which is understood within feminist politics. Seeing the artworks within what is supposed here as a “deathly gaze” that is cast over and over by viewers embodies an approach outside of which audiences often consider what is at stake for artwork under the gaze. Framing the exhibition within the classic myth of Orpheus and Eurydice creates an enticing intersection where myth and reality entwine to begin a story anew.  Not long after the marriage of Orpheus and Eurydice, Eurydice was walking in a meadow, was stung by a viper, and died. Orpheus was so grief-stricken that he dared to make the journey to Hades to bring her back. He was granted his wish but with one condition: he must not look back at her. But as he was so in love, he could not resist. As he cast his glance back upon her to welcome her back to earth, she slipped into the underworld uttering a single word: “farewell.”(2)

In the above verses by H.D., Eurydice regains her voice in Hades, speaking her anger towards Orpheus whose gaze caused her untimely second death. Curator April Thompson, inspired by the Greek myth, posits that video art, especially pioneering works that exist in their original form on VHS tape, may also experience a form of death caused by the gaze of the viewer. Beyond the framework of Living Dead, this central theme of a deathly gaze posited by the exhibition asks the crucial question of how to archive and make available seminal works of video art that exist only in their original form. This exhibition equally speaks to the aesthetics of early video art being made on VHS, which at its invention in the 1960s, was the most accessible form of video making, the camcorder being both portable and affordable.

In the midst of Montana by Jane Veeder (1983), the sound fades out and the words “good luck electronically visualizing your future” are heard. As the first work encountered in the show, Montana sets the stage for the discussion at hand: whether the videos being shown will continue to be viewable or not through the very act of showing them. Within this piece, a sense of deterioration is conveyed through dialogue, the very form the work takes, and the imagery that is cast upon the screen. We see a falling apart of the world, of the platform upon which we electronically visualize what’s seen—in this case, the VHS tape. In this way, the work focuses on more than just deteriorating technological advances.

Presented on a small screen, the video Media Burn by Ant Farm (1975) presents a spectacle placing two members of the art collective in the driver’s and passenger’s seats of a remodelled 1959 El Dorado Cadillac convertible. As the car careens towards a pile of television sets, it crashes through them, setting them ablaze and destroying the entire ensemble. This work is compelling in that it speaks to the early aesthetics of activism and social change as a central theme for artists working within the medium of video art. John G. Hanhardt, in his introductory exhibition text New American Video Art: A Historical Survey 1967-1980, discusses the relevance of this phenomenon in early video art as well as the beginning of the mass consumption of images via the television with its invention and entrance into most homes across America. As the television became more popular across America, it equally became more accessible as a medium for artists and for the dissemination of their work.

The intersection of video-game technology within early video art is a feature that is also drawn forth in some of the work in the show. In Montana Veeder experimented with video and computer-game graphics. The artist used the defunct systems ZGRASS, an early computer-game language, and Datamax UV-1 Graphics Computer, a prototype of a graphics workstation to create the video work. The artist enlists this technology to investigate an alternate theme, the clash between technology and nature. Veeder brings imagery of buffalo and hawks, both native to Montana, to the film. They cross the screen in simplistic computer animations resembling early video-game imagery, bringing the natural world and technology into collision. The work Leaving the 20th Century (1982) by Max Almy also speaks to computer and video-game technologies, past and present. Almy used both analog and digital technology, filming it in analog while layering it with computer animation and special effects. This work further engages Hanhardt’s discussion regarding the accessibility of video given its wide use across homes for the mass consumption of images and information.

Two works that are strong individually and resonate with engaging dialogue between each other are Cornucopia (1982) by General Idea and Mona Hatoum’s So Much I Want to Say (1983). Cornucopia is a spoof on a museum documentary presenting the fictional history of The 1984 Miss General Idea Pavilion and its destruction by fire in 1977. The narrative tells a fictitious story of how General Idea became a collective with the integration of still images, hand-drawn sketches and a series of spinning phallic sculptures. Mona Hatoum’s work on the other hand is an arresting artwork with strong ties to the feminist movement. The video was created as part of an event entitled “Weincouver IV”, which invited musicians and artists to celebrate live sound and image exchange between Vancouver and Vienna via Slowscan and telephone technology. Slowscan transmits images every eight seconds while the sound travels simultaneously and continuously via telephone lines. So Much I Want to Say explores the performative aspects of technology, in particular examining air waves and voice frequencies as a way of transmitting information. Hatoum continually attempts to whisper the title of the piece while a hand covers her mouth, suppressing her dialogue and ability to speak. Such scenes convey the power of this work, with the artist speaking directly to the suppression of women’s voices.

The aspect of degradation was a central concern for the curator and other museum professionals alike in putting together this exhibition. The notion of the ocular or the gaze as having the potential to be fatal through the simple act of viewing work deemed too fragile to be looked at brings into question the ethics and responsibility of exhibiting delicate artworks. With pieces disintegrating at an advancing rate across mediums, such as seminal sculptural works by Eva Hesse for example, it is crucial to consider the notion of the second death in relation to how these works can be both viewed and preserved. While the video works included were in a fragile state and yet to be digitized, each work survived the duration of the exhibition, successfully circumventing the fatal gaze of a new audience.  The potential of ocular degradation offers an intriguing place of power for the viewer in positioning themselves within proximity to the work physically and metaphorically. The viewer gains a sense of agency, becoming more active in viewing. In essence, they take on the voice of Eurydice, arresting the power of the gaze at a fixed point.

These seminal works brought to light to be seen in their most fragile form, facing the gazing eyes of viewer upon viewer throughout the run of the exhibition, exude a sense of power. As such integral works within the canon of video art, it is critical that these works remain conservable as well as viewable. Here, the question of how that dynamic plays out in real time was questioned and placed in an intersecting conversation that brought forth discussion, controversy and, in the end, debate around the criticality of the works themselves in regards to the legacy of video art. It asked how we can continue to revel in their constructive view on society through both the camera’s lens and that of the human eye.

Maeve Hanna is a writer based in Treaty 7 Territory (Calgary, AB). She is akimbo.ca‘s Calgary Correspondent and has previously written for Border Crossing, C Magazine, Canadian Art, esse arts + opinions, Frieze, Galleries West, Los Angeles Review of Books and Sculpture Magazine.

1.  H.D., Eurydice. https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/51869/eurydice-56d22fe6d049d,accessed March 15, 2019
2.  “The Story of Orpheus and Eurydice, as told by Apollonius of Rhodes, Virgil and Ovid (and retold by Edith Hamilton in Mythology),”posted by Ann Woodlief (Fall 2001), https://archive.vcu.edu/english/engweb/webtexts/eurydice/eurydicemyth.html, accessed March 15, 2019.

This article is published in issue 36.2 of BlackFlash magazine. Get this issue