Last week in class, we watched a number of animations in order to get us thinking about how we might approach the ones we will be making ourselves.
One of them was Matthew Kluber's video, So Much Water So Close to Home. First we watched this video in class on the projection screen, and discussed its formal, technical, and conceptual elements. We talked about how mesmerizing it was, formally, because of the rhythmic movement of the black and white. It also made us feel a bit apprehensive – we weren't sure what was happening to the little girl, and because there was no sound and no color, it can be portrayed as slightly ominous. But mostly, once I figured out it was just a little girl swimming, I felt nostalgic and carefree when I was watching it. The way that the "camera" shifts a bit as if it were a handheld camcorder, and the way that it zooms closer to the little girl's face at the end, both evoke the sense of a home video, which reminds me of my own childhood.
I was intrigued when I heard that this video is actually a permanent installation at the Moberg gallery right here in Des Moines. I have driven down Ingersoll countless times and have noticed some sort of projection on the building, but never took the time to stop and watch it.
So, I was excited to go watch this projection in it's intended installation. It was a bit of a struggle to find a vantage point from which to view it; if you stand directly next to the building onto which it is projected, you cannot see it in its entirety. I walked around the whole gallery building to find a good place to watch it, and ended up crossing Ingersoll and watching it from the other side of the street.
The scale and color of the video when watched outside is different from watching it inside a classroom. Because of the grayish color of the building onto which it is projected, what should have been black and white turned into gray and dark bluish-gray.
Additionally, watching it outside increased distractions. I was not able to focus solely on the video like I was in the classroom; instead I was also looking at the cars speeding down the street, the surrounding shops, the streetlights, and downtown Des Moines in the distance. There was also an open, lighted window on the building that came very close to the little girl's head in the projection, creating an interesting visual contrast of reality and animation.
Interestingly, watching the video in this context made the video seem less ominous. When watching it outside, it no longer mattered that there was no sound because of the natural ambience of my surroundings. This larger context with less opportunity for focused looking also made the video itself seem shorter.
The comparisons between watching the video in the classroom vs. outside made me think about time and how we perceive it. It was interesting to me to learn that the video is actually a moment in time that had been slowed down; the artist recorded his daughter swimming for maybe a minute, and created this two-minute long animation, slowing down that moment in time. When watched carefully within a stationary classroom setting, these two minutes can seem like dozens of minutes as you watch black forms ripple and flow in and out of the animated composition over and over. Watching it in this setting made me expect a dramatic storyline. However, when placed in the hustle and bustle of a city, in an outdoor location near a relatively busy street, it is easy to miss this animation.
By creating this animation and placing it as a permanent outdoor installation, I wonder if the artist intended to point to the fleeting nature of time, particularly when thinking about childhood. It so easily speeds by, and if you don't take the time to slow down and look close, you'll miss it.
One of them was Matthew Kluber's video, So Much Water So Close to Home. First we watched this video in class on the projection screen, and discussed its formal, technical, and conceptual elements. We talked about how mesmerizing it was, formally, because of the rhythmic movement of the black and white. It also made us feel a bit apprehensive – we weren't sure what was happening to the little girl, and because there was no sound and no color, it can be portrayed as slightly ominous. But mostly, once I figured out it was just a little girl swimming, I felt nostalgic and carefree when I was watching it. The way that the "camera" shifts a bit as if it were a handheld camcorder, and the way that it zooms closer to the little girl's face at the end, both evoke the sense of a home video, which reminds me of my own childhood.
I was intrigued when I heard that this video is actually a permanent installation at the Moberg gallery right here in Des Moines. I have driven down Ingersoll countless times and have noticed some sort of projection on the building, but never took the time to stop and watch it.
So, I was excited to go watch this projection in it's intended installation. It was a bit of a struggle to find a vantage point from which to view it; if you stand directly next to the building onto which it is projected, you cannot see it in its entirety. I walked around the whole gallery building to find a good place to watch it, and ended up crossing Ingersoll and watching it from the other side of the street.
The scale and color of the video when watched outside is different from watching it inside a classroom. Because of the grayish color of the building onto which it is projected, what should have been black and white turned into gray and dark bluish-gray.
Additionally, watching it outside increased distractions. I was not able to focus solely on the video like I was in the classroom; instead I was also looking at the cars speeding down the street, the surrounding shops, the streetlights, and downtown Des Moines in the distance. There was also an open, lighted window on the building that came very close to the little girl's head in the projection, creating an interesting visual contrast of reality and animation.
Interestingly, watching the video in this context made the video seem less ominous. When watching it outside, it no longer mattered that there was no sound because of the natural ambience of my surroundings. This larger context with less opportunity for focused looking also made the video itself seem shorter.
The comparisons between watching the video in the classroom vs. outside made me think about time and how we perceive it. It was interesting to me to learn that the video is actually a moment in time that had been slowed down; the artist recorded his daughter swimming for maybe a minute, and created this two-minute long animation, slowing down that moment in time. When watched carefully within a stationary classroom setting, these two minutes can seem like dozens of minutes as you watch black forms ripple and flow in and out of the animated composition over and over. Watching it in this setting made me expect a dramatic storyline. However, when placed in the hustle and bustle of a city, in an outdoor location near a relatively busy street, it is easy to miss this animation.
By creating this animation and placing it as a permanent outdoor installation, I wonder if the artist intended to point to the fleeting nature of time, particularly when thinking about childhood. It so easily speeds by, and if you don't take the time to slow down and look close, you'll miss it.
Comments
Post a Comment