Artists confront modern-day leviathan: Television

Artists confront modern-day leviathan: Television

M. Taufiqurrahman, The Jakarta Post, Jakarta

One need look no further than the OK. Video Sub/Version Video
Festival at the National Gallery to learn that the most
terrifying leviathan in modern life is television.

In the two-week festival, Indonesian artists and their
counterparts from countries that include the United States,
Australia, Japan, Russia and Belgium are showcasing their work,
which shows how television has shaped the universe of the masses,
manipulated their conscience and subjugated them in the face of
global capitalism.

While delineating the immense magnetism of the culture of
television, the artists also deliver a coded message that is
aimed at dismantling the subterfuge, deception and banality of
what is beamed from the magic tube.

In so doing, the artists resort to the very methods that are
considered subversive in the profit-seeking corporate world:
video piracy and other copyright-infringing activities, while
giving encouragement to involvement in such practices by
spectators.

"Subversive works have cleared the way for postmodernity to
flourish, which, in turn, will subsequently multiply these
subversive works. Paint a Mao (Ze Dong) picture, add a Coca-Cola
logo -- done," said Ronny Agustinus, a founding member of
Ruangrupa, a festival organizer.

The approach has gained currency among artists taking part in
the video festival.

For instance, in Bataille, a video work by Belgian artist
Nicolas Provost, fragments from the film Rashomon by Japanese
director Akira Kurosawa are subject to a mirror effect.

Named after French postmodern thinker George Bataille, the
work carries a scene in which two samurais clench each other,
later turning into a monster-like figure where horror and pain
evoke beauty and joy.

Manifestoon, by American artist Jesse Drew, genially portrays
symbolism for the stranglehold of Hollywood films through the
medium of Tinseltown's most well-known export, cartoon character
Mickey Mouse.

The classic image of Mickey running over the globe has a new
meaning in the current era, in which Mickey's parent company
Disney controls one of the largest media conglomerations in the
world.

The closing scene, in which a bearded Karl Marx takes the
place of the cartoon character in saying "That's all, folks!",
gives rise to a sense of powerlessness among the populace
(represented by the leftist thinker) against the onslaught of the
media.

If the two works are a harmless parody of media domination,
Appetite for Dysfunction, an installation work by Australian
artists collectively known as the Kingpins, reveals the more
destructive aspects of the culture of spectacle.

The work, whose title is a pun on Los Angeles-based band Guns
`n Roses' 1987 album Appetite for Destruction, put on display six
television sets framed by the tongue logo of British band the
Rolling Stones, continuously running recorded videos of an
Australian commercial for burger restaurant McDonald's, a
wrestling contest, Rock `n Roll talent scouting contests and an
ambush at a Korean Starbucks.

The work, however, is ambiguous on whether the artists are
making a mockery of what is being beamed from the screen or of
the spectators who are glued to the TV.

If foreign participants in the competition have a penchant for
launching an attack on big corporations, Indonesian artists are
more interested in peeling back the layers of deception and false
messages delivered by local television programs.

In similar vein to the Kingpins, the work of artist Eko
Nugroho, Maling (Thief), speaks volumes about the fact that TV
has become an integral part of people's lives.

In his work, Nugroho uses a television set that constantly
beams a collage of footage taken from homegrown TV programs, from
a campy, ghost-hunting show, uninspired reality shows and gory
images from a crime scene -- all staples of TV programing these
days.

To end the scene, Nugroho displays a mock ad of canned fruit
with the label Maling.

It is up to the audience to decide who is the real thief in
question -- TV programs that pry into the audience's private
lives or the products in commercials that constantly harangue us
to buy them?

In Iqra (Arabic for "read"), artist Ari Satria Darma, attempts
to regain viewers' lost consciousness, which has been bombarded
by words and letters from all types of advertisements, by slowly
erasing letters that make up the logos of well-known products,
leaving their frames empty.

"Is it because we are a consumption-driven society that we
perceive the frames as empty?" Ari asked rhetorically.

in box:

OK.Video Sub/Version video festival runs through July 31.
Open daily, Monday to Friday 1 p.m. to 5:30 p.m and 6:30 p.m. to
9 p.m.
Saturdays and Sundays 11 a.m. to 5 p.m. and 6:30 p.m to 11 p.m.
National Gallery
Jl. Medan Merdeka Timur 14.
Central Jakarta