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Stefan Panhans [Videonale.10]

 

Stefan Panhans [Videonale.10] x

Pool, 2004, 7:00 [extract: 3:30] min, color, sound [Videonale.10]

"Listen, it's like this: we're doing this production, and we need people who believe in themselves, who know who they are and aren't afraid to show it. Real characters, one-of-a-kind, self-confident young people. You just have to be yourself, but at your best, you know? Be yourself but at its top! ... "

The completely static camera is directed at a young woman sitting in her parked compact car. This focus has the effect of making the viewer feel he is sitting with her in the car and listening to her voice against the background of birds chirping, which somehow makes the scenery seem unreal. It soon becomes apparent that she is not talking to the viewer, but that he is instead a kind of voyeur, intruding upon the protagonist during a private moment. Her view is directed within, turned away from the camera lens. Although her monologue is addressed to a "you", it seems to be the recapitulation of a casting she has just participated in. The one-sidedness of her story makes the woman into an actress, and the content presents the bizarre rules of this metier - without a hint of emotion. The title Pool becomes a play on the concept of a "casting pool" - a selection of talents from which casting directors can simply help themselves.

Nadia Ismail

The complete version of the work can be requested from the artist.

 

David Phillips & Paul Rowley [Videonale.10] x

Security Fugue, 2004, 4:00 min., sound, colour [Videonale.10]

The compositional principle of the fugue is based on the connection between repetition and variation. Phillips and Rowley take this term as a metaphor for the well-practiced, constantly repeated and only slightly changing rescue-mechanisms of a society in search of security and protection. The visual material and parts of the acoustics were not created by the artists but were only edited by them. Instead, they are taken from the fund of American (film) history. Designed for projection onto two screens, we see a rescue helicopter making a landing onto a hospital on the one side, and a shot, slightly shifted in time, of hurriedly approaching first-aid attendants on the other. The rescue procedures, so carefully calibrated in their precision and speed, are not so much contrasted as dramatized by the extreme slowing-down of the images: each movement, each millisecond counting for so much in this anonymous drama, is thrust into consciousness by slow motion. Through the meticulous rendition of each detail, the artists also play upon the psychological meaning of the English term „fugue“, which designates a lapse of memory caused by a traumatic experience. The scrupulous observation seems to be intended to work against this „blind spot“ in personal or collective remembrance.

Dorothée Brill

 

Judith Raum [Videonale.10] x

Unlike the worm in the apple (Stan Brackhage revisited), 2005, 10:40 Min, colour, sound [Videonale.10]

The video projection recalls in its narrative structure a film by Stan Brackhage which traces with the camera the path of a worm inside an apple. The viewer experiences, from the perspective of the worm, the feeling of being not only safely sheltered but also excluded from the rest of the world. By means of the extensive projection, surrounded by images and sound, Judith Raum attempts to introduce the viewer into a comparable situation: impenetrable undergrowth, narrow paths, dense spruce forests, expeditions through blades of grass as well as underwater shots summon up associations with the forward striving of the worm upon an unfamiliar, unpredictable path. In other sequences the view, which looks into a room and is limited to a wall and bedposts, indicates the living space of an individual who is isolated from the external world. Judith Raum describes the great expanse of the world - in fine formal balance - through the drifting of clouds and ice floes, through the rising and setting of sun and moon. She compares traces in mud and in snow. The video's reduced succession of images allows the sounds of water, wind or the crackling of branches to emerge distinctly and to intensify the visual experience. 

Elisabeth Wynhoff

 

Roland Schappert [Videonale.10] x

Bar/vegetation, 2003, 3:00 min, color, sound [Videonale Prize, Videonale.10]

We watch a young couple in slow motion, sitting in a bar smoking and enjoying alcoholic drinks while their toddler looks on. We realise that they are being interviewed, not from the audio track, but from the presence of a microphone and by their gestures. The slow, minimal movements of the adults contrast with those of the child, who first reaches for a cigarette and then determinedly and persistently keeps trying to grab a champagne glass. These images are accompanied by a short story read aloud by author Michael Ebmeyer, his voice conveying the full range of emotions. No direct connection can be made between image and narration, but now and again single words or sentence fragments seem to accidentally fit what is going on in the scene, at times to amusing effect. While the story repeats in a loop, the video begins after a cut in the middle to run backwards again for its full length - a fact that is almost imperceptible for the viewer. The juxtaposition of visual and acoustic levels now running in opposite directions creates a new relationship between image and narration in the second half of the video. This results in a shift in meaning that is difficult to comprehend rationally: "It's very possible that this might make us nervous after a while ..."

Natalie Maya Nonaka

 

Asli Sungu [Videonale.10] x

Steckengeblieben, 2003, 15:00 (7:57) min., colour, sound [Videonale.10]

A woman stands in front of her wardrobe, closing the buttons running up the back of her shirt. The viewer can only see her from behind. She makes a mistake with the very first button, matching it to the wrong buttonhole. She tries again and again to button the shirt properly, starting from the bottom, then from the top, using both hands or sometimes only one hand. Her contortions and wriggling, interrupted by short pauses, indicate how strenuous this task is for her. For a brief moment, she thinks she has reached her goal: she feels up and down the button placket and realises, disappointed, that she has once again failed to button the shirt correctly. But she carries on, persistently and almost stubbornly. The viewer is put into a strangely oppressive situation, similar to the helplessness of the protagonist herself: he knows from the outset that her efforts are in vain, that she will fail at each renewed attempt. Without the help of a third hand, she will never reach her goal. For the viewer, the abrupt end comes as a release.

Natalie Maya Nonaka

 

Antti Tanttu [Videonale.10] x

Solitude, 2004, 4:00 min, sound, black and white [Videonale.10]

 

Martijn Veldhoen [Videonale.10] x

Momentum, 2003, 5:50 Min., Colour, Sound [Videonale.10]

In Momentum the viewer follows the camera on its path through a series of different places. Fragments of language, architecture, light and atmosphere refer to Italy. From a dark corridor, we stride through an iron gate that is swinging open onto a sunny street, and then effortlessly penetrate a window on the opposite side - as Veldhoen's work leaves the realm of filmed reality and seems to switch to animation. We pass through various rooms whose residents are characterised by songs heard in the background, then move out onto a terrace and over rooftops into a dark inner courtyard; we enter a dilapidated house and then arrive at a stream clogged by rocks and overgrown vegetation, which we follow onward. This labyrinthine obstacle course is accompanied by various noises: steps, music and voices, the cries of swifts, the strokes of dove wings, bells ringing. With our eyes following the headlong rush of images, and soothed by the quiet, almost monotonous voice of the narrator, we as viewers are lost in reverie and share the narrator's train of thought which reflects the passing through rooms and along pathways. 

Elisabeth Wynhoff

 

Connie Walsh [Videonale.10] x

How To, 2003, 26:50 min, color, sound [Videonale.10]

Where is the boundary between a game and reality? Can innocence turn into danger? When and how is human aggression created? These and other questions are raised by Connie Walsh’s video Cenetar. In the first few images, we see a child playing war. It is wearing headphones and talking into a microphone, as if playing an interactive computer game. The blue sky in the background and the child enthroned like an angel among the clouds convey a sense of peace. Not only do we hear the voice of the boy, but also the sound of a pilot’s voice, whose sentences mix with those of the child’s. The collage-like interplay of dialogue is disturbing, since the innocent child is giving orders to destroy. The headphones and microphone make it clear that there is not much difference between the little boy and the pilot, who is playing the game in real life. At the end of the four-minute video, one hears the noise of bombs and the child suddenly disappears. Is the boy pretending to be an adult, or is the pilot imagining the whole video during a real mission? Walsh shows us an exploration of human aggression. Her social critique emerges in the staging of an ambivalent situation in which it is impossible to tell the difference between the game and reality.

Milen Zhelev

 

Fabian Winkler & Harald F. Müller [Videonale.10] x

En Route, 2002, 8:00 Min., colour, sound [Videonale.10]

En Route is an example of a conceptual video. The audio-visual experience is of equal importance to the technical conception of the video, which is compiled from a selection of 64 separate sequences arranged in ever-changing order. These sequences are put together by a computer programme in a different way each time the video is played, according to specific criteria such as length, colours, direction of movement, the way images are framed, or the typography of text that appears. Thus, the number of possible videos, varying in length from 5-8 minutes, is virtually unlimited. The images and sequences of the video, shot during a two-week tour through Italy and France in 2002, usually out of the window of a moving or parked car, show street scenes and industrial buildings from the 1960s and 1970s. The parts of architecture shown are frequently chosen in such a way that the three-dimensional images tend to be read as two-dimensional (coloured) surfaces. This effect, together with the length of the sequences in which these objects are shown, creates a minimalist aesthetic. Each scene is accompanied by music, ranging from chanson to hard techno beats, which supports the mood of each clip and the aesthetic of the images.

Nadia Ismail

 

Ma Yongfeng [Videonale.10] x

The Swirl, 2002, 15:06 min., sound, colour [Videonale.10]

The Swirl is a work that is as innocuous as it is brutal. In spite of its compositional simplicity and optical beauty, it is difficult to look at. The gaze is directed into the open drum of a washing machine that is loadable from above. In an uncut shot, we observe a 15-minute wash cycle. However, in the drum there are not brightly colored pieces of clothing, but six goldfish. The pointlessness of the torment and the helplessness of the tormented can be read as a metaphor for torture. But it may also be understood as social criticism and a cynical commentary upon the artist's existence, if one takes into consideration that the fish functions as a symbol for prosperity within Chinese culture. During the rapid transisition from authoritarian communism to untrammeled capitalism, independence and distance from the mechanisms of the system continue to be difficult. Atrists tell us of this experience, not least of all fostered by the recent boom of contemporary Chinese art in the West.

Dorothée Brill

 

Johanna Domke [Videonale.10] x

You'll miss what's gonna stay, 2004, 7:15 min, sound, colour, [Videonale.10]

In her video works, Johanna Domke examines the phenomenon of how we perceive time in moving pictures, describing the discrepancy between real and experienced time, which are inextricably at odds with one another. You'll miss what's gonna stay shows a trivial scene of young people passing the time together, laughing and having fun. It seems as if they have just gathered; the actual event and reason for their meeting is yet to be revealed. A linear narration is suggested to the viewer from the start, which puts him in a state of expectancy. After a short while, however, it becomes clear that this is a situation that does not allow for any fundamental development. The people portrayed move within their own individual time frames, asynchronous to one another. Their actions are reproduced in endless loops, each shifting in relationship to the others, generating for the viewer an ongoing series of new image sequences and connections. It is clear that time is elapsing in linear progression, but the continuously changing scene contradicts this by stagnating as it persists in incessant motion. While real time marches on, subjectively felt time ticks away in a different rhythm and fluctuating frequency for each individual.

Daniel Stursberg

 

Ditte Ejlerskov [Videonale.10] x

The Game of Art, 2003, 2:10 min., colour, sound [Videonale.10]

„This is the Game of Art. Right now, in front of this monitor, you are a player yourself. Hope you are familiar with the rules, because there is now one to help you. Do you want to enter the next level? Well, we all do!“ In a certain sense, Ejlerskov is not at the starting point of The Game of Art but has finished it: she has reached the next level, the next exhibition, the next successful participation in a competition. The artist adapts in a witty manner the structure and style of computer games in order to deliver an ironic commentary about the art world. Ejlerskov inverts the increasingly perfect, digital imitation of real spaces, surfaces and movements. She now copies the virtual world and embodies the avatar herself. Equally, her playing field is not virtual but real: it is her studio. On the way to it, paint, artist?s outfit and courage must be gathered. The rules of the game and the criteria for attaining points remain indeed as mysterious as was announced at the beginning. Thus The Game of Art comments humorously on the sometimes incomprehensible mechanisms of the art world and the blurred principles in assigning artistic merits. And ... the artist wins.
Dorothée Brill

 

Jana Eske [Videonale.10] x

Fracht, 2003, 0:40 min., no sound, colour [Videonale 10]

The immobile image on the monitor shows a section of a white, evenly rasterised surface with squares that taper off as they recede into space. An ant enters the picture from the left, walking backwards and dragging a dead bumblebee. Without pausing for even a moment, the insect crosses the screen with his oversized "freight", immediately exiting again on the right. The image lightens for a moment to a bright white before the sequence repeats.
The relationship of bodies to space is a recurring theme in the video works of Jana Eske. Her images are usually limited to a small section of space, removed from any context, so that she can present her observations using staged scenes or snapshots. She is particularly interested in human beings and the qualities that make them human. Against this background, it is only logical to speak of a "performance" by the ant: whereas his little show at first inspires admiration for the seemingly supernatural strength of this small slogger, the endlessly repeating loop soon takes on the grotesque character of an indefatigable, but ultimately meaningless and aimless activity.

Simone Jung

 

Jacqueline Forzelius [Videonale.10] x

This is good for you, 2005, 2:30 min., sound, colour [Videonale.10]

Jacqueline Forzelius extends an invitation for dinner. The artist's camera angle places the spectator at a plain wooden table. A young androgynous woman is sitting opposite. Nothing suggests that a second person is expected. The words spoken by the “hostess” confirm what is already indicated by the field of view - the invited guest is already sitting at the table. Though seeming to be in dialogue form the comments turn out to be a monologue. The young woman complains about the behaviour of her guest who is invisible to the spectator. The manners of the alleged hostess however leave much to be desired. She drinks yogurt, spills it and stirs it on the table, it runs out of her mouth and she smears it with her fingers. The spectator's initial curiosity is turned into a fascination that also implies a certain uneasiness by the perspective and the direct addressing: “Am I spoken to?” The artist works with the visual, acoustic and emotional levels that constitute the human communication system. She demonstrates limitations of this system whenever narrative strings on these levels are diametrically opposed.

Nadia Ismail

 

Daniel Frerix & David Sarno [Videonale.10] x

Rasieren, 2004, 5:41 min., sound, colour [Videonale.10]

As a woman's voice scolds him from off-stage, a young man, oblivious to her harsh words, walks into a bathroom, turns on the radio and begins to shave. While he observes himself, humming, in a three-part mirror, the camera, which has until then focused on details of the sink and the blade being washed under the tap, takes up and shares the man?s own perspective looking in the mirror. As the woman's accusations escalate from everyday household trifles to fundamental issues in their relationship, calling into question the man?s attentiveness, his love for her and her standing in his life, the first red drop splashes into the white sink. Seconds later, the entire bathroom is immersed in red; blood flows in streams down the walls and over the floor. The young man, utterly impervious, continues to shave - without the least sign of pain or shock - as if the bloodbath were an accustomed part of this daily routine. With the help of various levels of sound and image, Frerix & Sarno describe in Rasieren an apparently real problem situation that ends in an unnoticed horror.

Kathrin Ann Bender

 

Barbara Hlali [Videonale.10, under former name of Barbara Schmidt] x

My faith, 2005, 4:54 min, sound, Black and White [Videonale.10]

My faith is a poetical tribute to the belief in the triumph of reconciliation and harmony. In this animated film made from drawings, the artist narrates the archetypal history of relationship, separation and love in an imaginative manner. The description of the suffering and reunion of a couple enters into a dense dialogue with the visualization of the protagonists´ inner emotional states. Outer event and inner emotion become visually interwoven, influencing each other in their pictorial rendition. In addition to these narrative levels, the artist uses two overlapping means of representation. Now and again, the filmed hands of the artist in her role as hidden wire-puller reach into the animation and thereby into the happenings; they mend rifts and allow the protagonists to overcome abysses. Thus the title My faith also becomes readable as a credo concerning the power of artistic creation and the attainment of an ideal world being possible through art. In a free interpretation of Plato´s concept of the spherical human being such as expressed by the young Aristophanes in the Symposium, Schmidt portrays the two wrenched-apart protagonists as maimed beings which have need of each other in order to be complete.

Dorothée Brill

 

Nick Jordan [Videonale.10] x

Fury, 2003, 5:00 min, sound, colour [Videonale.10]

Views of a French village prelude the film and lead over to an interior space with a woman sitting at an open window. This classically composed "view from a window" alternates with close-up shots of flies who swarm about among the kitchen utensils upon the table. Their fellow species-members are already stuck dead upon the fly swatter. The camera shows right up close the struggle for survival of the last twitching flies, whose oversized representation induces repugnance as well as a certain attraction. Both responses are effects of the quiet, contemplative images. The close-ups reveal even more about the seemingly inappropriate title: Fury is simply the brand of the insect trap. Everyday life is the point of departure and also the contents of the work. The effect of the formal realization is the aestheticization of the everyday scenario as well as of the loathsome, morbid aspect. The flies´ corpses and the sleeping woman call up associations of death which may be pursued further through the presence of iconographic set pieces such as the basket of fruit as a still life and vanitas motif. Among the references to cinematic practice is the visual "dissection2 of the moving picture into a sequence of individual images: 2The stillness of cinema at 24 frames per second," comments the artist in reference to Godard´s remark: "Cinema is truth 24 times a second."

Stefanie Zobel

 

Dirk Königsfeld [Videonale.10] x

02°56'50''W 53°25'04''N, 2004, 11:00 min, Colour, Sound [Videonale.10]

Filmed from the 22nd floor of a high-rise building at evening twilight, a view opens onto the city of Liverpool, as one can surmise from the indication of longitude and latitude in the title. The symmetry of the selected detail aestheticizes the filmed scene. Solitary vehicles which slowly pass by upon the straight streets enliven the static cityscape. The avenue divides the filmed district into two equally sized halves, thereby emphasizing the uniformity of the city. Solitary clouds float above the vast horizon. By means of what is at first a scarcely perceptible fading, the cityscape slowly blends into a separate, atmospheric picture. Radio music from the lobby, the twittering of birds and isolated wailing from sirens connect these two perspectives onto the same site and support in a compelling manner the quiet, contemplative images both in terms of contents and on a visual level. Nature and city present themselves to us here in a moderated form. 

Nadia Ismail

 

Mischa Kuball [Videonale.10] x

Stage II, 2004, 18:00 min, color, sound [Videonale.10]

Cones of light dance, seeming to follow a choreographed rhythm across the stage's ceiling. Various spotlights affixed to the crossbeams roam through the audience and immerse the stage backdrop in an atmospheric play of light. The narrow horizontal frame used in Stage II shows only the ceiling of a stage where a concert is in progress. The actual event is blocked out, as is the sound. The viewer becomes irritated, as important information is being kept from him. Gradually, one begins to observe the light signals, to concentrate on the visible "slice of stage". Completely disconnected from the actually performance in progress, one simply watches the ballet of light. The silent picture generates a spatial distance between event and viewer on yet another level, which is further fostered by the black borders blocking out the edges of the scene. The work Stage II seduces us with silence. The viewer, induced to gaze longer at the remote play of light, is put into a contemplative mood. Stage II has a hypnotic, mesmerizing power. Its quality of being shown in passing gives it considerable power.

Katja Heckes

 

Nina Maria Küchler [Videonale.10] x

Interview with Tony Smith, 2004, 6:00 Min, colour, sound [Videonale.10]

A young man around 25 stands in some scenery reciting a monologue. Both the blades of grass in the foreground and the sounds indicate that he is standing at the side of a motorway. The man with dark and straggly hair wears a parka and talks in a concentrated manner, while his gestures and facial expression appear to be nervous and confused. Disturbed by the noise of the cars he interrupts his lecture several times. The spectator first has to become acquainted with the situation of the lecture that comments on the words in a peculiar way. The man is reciting a text from an interview with architect and sculptor Tony Smith, conducted by Samuel Wagstaff for the Art Magazine in 1966. There the artist describes a nocturnal journey on an unfinished motorway. In this artificial industrial landscape he experienced a new kind of reality, a reality he had never before come across within the spectrum of art and which thoroughly questioned his own conception of art. The description of this journey, the confusion it caused in the artist and the difficult attempt to put his feelings into words are audio-visually very impressively realized in this video work. At the end the statements about art dissolve in fragmentary trains of thought: enraptured the reciter turns away, and the video ends abruptly.

Katja Heckes

 

Jen Liu [Videonale.10] x

2304 is a Beer Drinking Year, 2004, 5:50 Min, colour, sound [Videonale.10]

2304 Is a Beer Drinking Year skilfully plays with the genre of music video, mixing various media levels. Digital animation is combined with clips from monumental big-screen epics dedicated to the heroic depiction of war scenes. This interplay results in a humorous and sarcastic commentary on the connection between economic interests and martial activities. “Don't forget, tax from ten beers pays to make one bullet”, is the slogan that unites war and advertising campaign. As in the music video genre, the images in 2304 Is a Beer Drinking Year are to be read as illustration of and commentary on the song's music and lyrics. “Ten thousand beers build a bomb! Come on! Tell 1665 - what it's about! Tell 803 BC - bullets, pint, a shout! Tell 1665 - what it's about! Shoot, shoot, shoot! What it's about!” are some of the song's words. Music, text and pictures create an imaginary war in which cause and effect blur. Is it a military crusade to propagate beer drinking and guitar rock, or are we experiencing the vision of a war financed through beer consumption? The boundaries between advertising and military campaign are just as fluid as those between earnestness and entertainment.

Dorothée Brill

 

Nadja Verena Marcin [Videonale.10] x

Sissi, 2005, 0:30 min, sound, colour [Videonale.10]

In the centre of the video image, a young, dark-haired woman can be seen sitting on a narrow bar. The protagonist is barefoot and is wearing a yellow top and light beige skirt. Where exactly she is remains just as unclear as where the bar originates and where it ends. The woman seems strangely isolated against the dark background that nestles against her body and surrounds her claustrophobically. A feeling of constriction creeps in. The blackness presses in on the woman in her exposed position and contrasts sharply with the warm tones of her clothing. The empty, dissatisfied-looking expression on her face reinforces the impression of isolation and loneliness. Abruptly, the woman opens her mouth, but instead of a human voice, there unexpectedly emerges only a short, melodic warbling. This acoustic cue and the title, Sissi, finally smooth the way toward an understanding of what we are seeing: In Marcin´s video work the woman as decorative object is conflated with the entertaining singing bird in a cage. The yellow top stands for bright plumage. The woman´s warble is at once bewildering, comical, shocking and surreal. Sissi in her imaginary cage leaves behind an uneasy feeling of amusement.

Nadja Ismail

 

Alex McQuilkin [Videonale.10] x

"Get Your Gun Up", 2002, 2:30, sound, colour [Videonale.10]

The male gaze, staged in the classic western genre, forms the backdrop to Get Your Gun Up. Citing Sergio Leone's "The Good, the Bad and the Ugly", a duel is presented in which two young women fight for the resounding triumph in view of their perfect bodies. Instead of the western hero's revolver the artist makes use of the cliché of the "weapons of a woman", here however less as an instrument of seduction than mainly as arsenal of poses of female self-expression. The two protagonists appear against the setting of a field of graves in the open prairie. By the selected image sections they remain anonymous. The belly and hip areas, effectively presented in tight panties adorned with leather straps and sheriff stars, and the carefully applied eye and lip make up, represent the female body. Minimal gestures - the tapping index finger of a hand put in the hip, mistrustfully contracting eyes or a contemptuously grinning mouth - make clear that the women are duellists rather than combatants. The potential defeat in the fight for the observer's approval would equal death.

Bettina Schönfelder

 

Marjam Oskoui [Videonale.10] x

Ulrike. Das Projekt, 2003, 12:00 min, colour, sound [Videonale.10]

Ulrike. Das Projekt continues vom Bruch's preoccupation with the leading figures of the RAF. The work is an encoded consideration of the relationship between artistic and revolutionary activity and raises the question as to the transformation of terrorist potential into artistic expression. "Can the artist protect himself through his art from a role as an active participant in revolutionary activity?", is a question asked by Oskoui and vom Bruch. Thereby, they implicitly raise the reverse question as to the subversive potential of artistic creation. Upon the tripartite screen, filmed performances by the two artists are combined with segments of popular films and film genres. The complex mixture of images engenders an intricate and ambiguous play of references and connotations: we are shown a ritual washing of feet, the splitting of three apples with the bare hands, the consistently repeated dance steps of Fred Astaire, a revolver alongside a construction drawing, and finally the artists walking along a pattern of the Chartres labyrinth. The clearest message might be given by Melina Mercouri, who in the figure of the prostitute Ilya from the film Never on Sunday combines in her behavior a lack of virtue with the strict adherence to principles. In her own biography, the later Greek Minister of Culture united artistic creation, revolutionary resistance and political involvement.

Dorothée Brill

Videonale.10 (April 30 – Mai 16, 2005 at Kunstmuseum Bonn)

Videonale moved from Bonner Kustnverein to Kunstmuseum Bonn.

600 submissions

47 selected works

Curator: Georg Elben

The Videonale Preis was received by Roland Schappert & Michael Ebmeyer („Bar/Vegetation“).