Cyberoberta

I enjoy creepy dolls as much as the next girl, provided they aren't in my house. Which by the way there is, out of sight in my hutch because I am too nice to throw it away. I look at the top picture, and I know I should be thinking of terminators and cyborgs. That's not what I'm thinking about. I'm thinking about Roy Orbison. That's who Cyberoberta doll 2 looks like. She doesn't scare me.
I like how the bottom doll's eye move's just slightly when you got to this link:
http://lynnhershman.com/doll3/
Chucky has nothing on this girl. She will make your death look like an accident.

Poem Field #2

I might be too old to enjoy this piece, which is ironic since I love old technology. The visuals are simple, but effective. I just can't get past the music. Too. Many. Cymbals. Crashing. Maybe that is the point. Perhaps this was a deliberate choice to get me to pay attention. It has the opposite effect though. I want to tune out. The sort of kaleidoscope of the visuals tries to make me stay. I like the colors.

Shanken 45-54

Romy Achituv and Camille Utterback's "Text Rain" (1999) is an interactive piece. It seems simple enough. Text falls down a screen, seemingly random. If a person moves their body, they can stop, grab, or hold up the text. When they let go, the text falls again.
The process isn't random at all. The words come from a poem and are about the body. This ties the movement of the participants with the theme of the work. The text is manipulated by the shade within the viewing area. When it becomes dark, meaning someone is moving their body, the text follows that darkness and moves accordingly. When the shadow disappears the text falls down its intended path.
This is the kind of art I like to see in a museum. This is easy enough for even small children to understand. There aren't any crazy metaphors. It is just text falling that you can play with.

Another interesting installation is Perry Hoberman's "Bar Code Hotel" (1994). Participants enter a room that is all black and white, just like bar codes. The room is filled with bar codes. The participant wears 3D glasses and can then see a colorful 3D world. As they go about the room scanning the bar codes with a light pen, the scene they see changes.

This is definitely something I would try out. The graphics remind me of the video games Doom and Wolfenstein 3D. The beeping of the scans, whether intentional or not, is a nice touch.

Wake Up, It's 1984!

In reading a chapter of "Art and Electronic Media," I stumbled across the project entitled "Good Morning, Mr. Orwell." The title and the creator Nam Jun Paik had me intrigued, so I went on a google expedition to find it. 

After a brief shout out to the funders of the project, the video begins with lightning bolt graphics and lips saying "Good Morning, Mr. Orwell, Bonjour, Mr. Orwell," twice, then there's a man and a woman in chairs in front of a green screen. Wait a minute- the man is Peter Gabriel?!? And there's a flock of seagulls on the screen. I'm now hooked because I am so Team Gabriel. The song is called "This Is the Picture/Excellent Birds" which won't surprise you because they say both phrases a few times. Very cleverly, static snow is used as falling snow in a graphic window. Then Peter and the woman, Laurie Anderson, are doing some kind of weird chair dancing and are shot from above. But hey, this is the 80's and its Peter Gabriel, so I'm not thrown off and the beat of the song is keeping me content.

Now comes the formal introduction to what this video is all about. It is a live "Global Disco" according to the creator. I have to laugh when they describe the broadcast as worldwide, then the host tells us of the satellite broadcasts from New York, San Francisco, and Paris. So the world consists of Paris and the US. The American host introduces us to the Paris host and they talk over each other, both alternating between French and English. This is confusing. The Wikipedia page for the project states the broadcast was plagued with technical difficulties, and while that could be completely true, I'm not so sure based on a skit later in the show that plays upon that angle. Also, this is sort of avant garde, so it is hard to tell.

Once Gabriel showed up, I knew this was the 80's, but now I know that this program was being televised on New Year's Day 1984. According to the host, this project is about positive images coming from the concept of Big Brother is always watching from George Orwell's "1984." Perhaps Nam Jun Paik and I don't share the same vision, but I think this is a real thin connection to build his premise on. I think he was capitalizing on the time frame to draw people in. And, hey, he wasn't the only one because guess what else was released the day before?

But these are my thoughts now, after having watched the whole video. That premise was enough to get me interested in watching the video, so if that was Paik's plan it certainly worked on me. Now the scene switches to France and we're watching a French band. Though I can't understand a word of it, I'm still digging it thanks to the leads singer's mesmerizing feathered AND crimped hair. The music is reminiscent of the "Mr. Roboto" synthesizer style and every now and again we get flashes of break dancing. This was my childhood, this was the norm, and perhaps one explanation of why I am such a weirdo.

After this portion of the video ends, my interest begins to wane and I look at the run time of this video. Jesus Christ, 57 minutes, what have I gotten myself into?

Here comes the aforementioned skit, in which a French woman and an American man are supposed to be having a segment called a "Cavalcade of Intellectuals." Almost immediately they begin having technical difficulties and believing they are only able to see and hear each other due to a lost feed, the two begin having a discussion through which we infer that they are in a relationship and that man has proposed to the woman. He begins pressing her for an answer and when she tries to hold him off he threatens to commit suicide via MSG. This exchange is why I distrust that any of the technical problems actually occurred and that the broadcast might actually have gone according to plan.

At this point, I imagine the average television viewer stumbling across this broadcast. On New Year's Eve. Probably drunk or hung-over. Wondering how much of this is real. Imagine trying to explain this later to someone else who hadn't seen it. Unless you popped in a VHS to record it no one would believe that you weren't making it up.

Enough about that, it's Oingo Boingo! They existed! They're appropriately singing a song called "Wake Up, It's 1984!" on the first day of 1984. I'm having flashbacks to New Year's Eve 1999 when Limp Biskit covered Prince's "Party Like It's 1999" on Mtv New Year's Live hosted by Carson Daly and Jennifer Love Hewitt. This was my childhood, and this is why I'm such a weirdo.

Oh, look, Laurie Anderson is back and her voice is being distorted between her own and a deep man voice. She's doing some kind of slam poem about a plane crash. She compares the instructions of a flight attendant on where to put your hands to Simon Says which is a neat comparison, but then she loses me saying that there's always one person on the plane that's on your wavelength. I've been on, conservatively, 48 flights since moving out west and if you're looking for someone who's on your wavelength on a flight, don't sit next to me. Laurie Anderson is that annoying person ignoring my headphones trying to talk to me while I'm trying to fall asleep to my iPod. I'm getting irate, because slam poetry. I feel like very few people can get slam poetry right, and that 99% of people are just B.S.ing their way through.

Thankfully someone named Yves Montand starts tap dancing to a French song, that again I can't understand, but it's upbeat and refreshing. The backdrop is the outline of people walking replaced with patterns of stripes diamonds and hearts. It's very big band.

Of course the next piece draws my attention because it starts with a girl holding a cat and looking out the window. Everything is more interesting with a cat. The camera pans to the window and shapes begin to display on the screen, changing colors. This is right up my alley. Eventually the shapes are juxtaposed against more realistic images, like buildings and open water. The piece ends where we started, the girl at the window holding the last shape, a multi-colored spinning orb. Am I the only one confused? Where is the cat? Did the cat turn into an orb?

The next few scenes consist of yodeling, a man dancing with his own video image shadow, and a ticker running along the screen that is way too fast for any human being to read. I am now able to answer the question posed to all of the class on my first ever Peter Christensen class- Are you an artist or a designer? I'm a designer, and I say this because I am so often confounded by what is classified as art. I can be creative, I can be artistic, I can make things, and I can come up with ideas. I think a true artist has an attention span for these kind of projects and I just don't. I get frustrated and annoyed. I enjoy the bizarre as much as the next person, but even I have my limits. I feel like a true artist would have a much more open mind and be able to appreciate these things more than I can.

Fortunately, Thompson Twins come to save the day! They are performing their hit "Hold Me Now" which I adore. They do it in a completely straightforward fashion and there is nothing to distract from the soothing new wave melodies and lyrics.

Throughout the broadcast, there have been shots of a man wearing a Big Brother is watching pin. This last time we see him, a bell rings and the man gets up and puts on a basket woven hat. A new man shows up and he takes off a big, red, wide brimmed hat. There's no funny hats during business hours of Big Brother-ing, kids.

Next comes Allen Ginsburg and friends singing a song about how to meditate. The instruments consist of an accordion, an acoustic guitar, and a viola (I think). In the background is a man with a grey ponytail meditating, which has got to be difficult in the middle of this silly, delightful song. This guy will be back to sing in a high pitched voice, yodel, and play the banjo, to close out the show and try my patience. I am struck by the line "It's never to late do nothing at all." You're right Allen, to the couch!

Before Old Man Ponytail returns to end the show, there's a segment about a TV cello that Naim Jun Paik created. It looks pretty interesting; it is made of three TVs on top of each other with the tubes pulled out. It displays a negative, distorted visual of the host. This is one of those parts that may or may not have had a technical problem. The cellist (who knows if she actually is a musician or not) begins to play it and it sounds terrible. She says she has no audio, then some people turn something on behind her and an even worse sound emits from it. Earlier in the show, a man was playing an instrument he created using a feather and a piano, among other things. It made a variety of scratching and squeaking sounds. I couldn't make it through that segment and had to fast forward. The cellist playing in a very random way and her movements don't seem like that of a traditional musician. I feel like many of the musicians were having a contest to see who could be the most annoying.

Fifty-seven minutes later, the show is over. I wonder how many non artists watching the original broadcasts lasted the entire show. Had I not been writing this blog, I think I would have tuned out after Oingo Boingo. There were some cool elements to this show, but it was just too long and all over the place for a mainstream audience. I'm going to close this blog with a way more awesome banjo jam: