"old forms could be new, without being nostalgic"

Mark Lewis, the artist representing Canada in the Canadian pavilion in the Giardini, discussed a lot about rear projection that he used in his new work. He considers this method relevant, for it underlines the flatness of the work itself. It creates the sensation of a bad illusion that makes us aware of its presence, but in the same way it includes us in its existence. So, we could say that it has a double nature. Lewis does not pretend that the illusion should be seen as such, but at some point it should include the spectator. This idea of destroying the illusion in its becoming is very much of Modernist trope. What we see is really a modern form existing inside of the classical one. In 1930s, the introduction of a sound obliged directors to additionally add the background to the film scene because outside noise was too great. But Lewis, as Hitchcock, finds it interesting to use this technique, as it encompasses the element of disavowal. As he puts it: "I like it, because I know it's not real.."

Conversation between Mark Lewis and Benjamin Weil

The first conversation on the day before the official press opening was more like an intimate conversation with a few friends in the audience. It rolled into a fluid and seamlessly artìculate discussion among the people there. 

Mark Lewis, guided by Benjamin Weil, the French curator, opened the conversation (naturally for a filmmaker) with a discussion of architecture. For those familiar with the Canadian Pavillion - otherwise known, as Lewis said amusingly, as the outhouse for the British Pavillion, and the only modern construction in its section of the Giardini, you will find it transformed. Lewis redesigned it; a wall of smoked glass now closes off the usual wide entrance, blocks-out the outside world and dims the lights to create an effective viewing room for his four short, silent films  - two large and two small -  which he installed, he said, in the simplest and most conservative of manners, like pictures in a gallery.  

The conversation continued with a relaxed, amiable yet erudite discussion of the historical parallels between the rise and fall of modernism/the international style and the cinema, both peaking in the 1950s/60s, and the manner in which Lewis draws on the memory of cinema to create new works: combining for example a classic Hollywood technique of rear projection (an outdated form of illusion making), with a live foreground scene filmed in state-of-the art  HD video. It's just that point where illusion is both destroyed and admitted that fascinates, he says, allowing you to hold that contradictory thought in your head. And for those of you who would like to hold it comfortably seated  - well, we were sorry to learn that it was a lack of funds and not an artistic choice that prevents the presence of benches in the viewing environment. Sitting on the floor works beautifully.

Weil also evoked some of Lewis's older work, not shown here in Venice, that  explicitly explores the cinema process or syntax ('deconstructive' if you will), such as movement and time, e.g. very short films incorporating the names of camera moves into the titles, like "Downtown Pan...", which relieves the viewer of the usual waiting to see what will happen next, or films determined by the length of the reel, with 4 minutes as a preferred length for galleries and museum viewing, constraint as other forms of relief...

Carrie Pilto

Tony Conrad's performance at Teatro Piccolo, Arsenale

Snapping The Drone was an intense performative concert where the eyes of the crowd played an important role. Tony Conrad, known as a multidisciplinary artist, performed a violin concert behind a white curtain. Just his shadow was visible as a projected moving image.

Now let's talk about the ears: the Teatro Piccolo was filled with a pre-recorded violin mixed with Conrad playing live. The acoustic wave rose higher and higher and the sensation I had was a very physical presence in the space.

During the conversation with Klaus Biesenbach, chief curator of the Department of Media of the Museum of Modern Art in New York, Conrad made the fascinating statement that photos as well as films could be converted into paintings, as he sees the paintings he made that are on view in the central pavilion, curated by Daniel Birnbaum. I believe that In Snapping The Drone we assisted in this kind of transformation, while the artist seemed to be in close relation with his violin.

The conversation took place after the concert and was about Conrad's early works. The sense of the past represents the most relevant way to conceive our present, Conrad said. Conrad offered some examples of the importance of artists in the musical field who he inspired, such as Rhys Chatham and Sonic Youth, and he talked about his work with LaMonte Young and others since the 60's - referring also to the extended music practice - and what this means nowadays.

Actually, I'm still hearing the fading blasting noise concluding the performance...

Marina Abramovic at Tony Conrad's performance

Marina Abramovic commented that the small public present for Conrad's performance--there were only about 25 people-- reminded her of the same almost intimate experiences of witnessing performances in the 1970s. She said, "I think that we are very privileged to hear you. Thank you a lot." Everyone agreed. It was a real privilege...

some questions

When asked what was the reason for the visual shadow on the sheets, he simply answered that he wanted to create a double presence

as Brecht

It was almost as Brecht like.. Depersonalisation still remains a very strong element of our reality. Still, Conard's sound deconstructing gets us closer to the essence we require. It was not needed to see the whole performance to be able to grasp this sensation.

Tony Conrad's performance "Snapping the Drone"

He stays behind the white waving sheets, takes his amplified violin, turns himself toward the light source projecting his shadow back to us. Hidden behind this waving sheet, Conrad in a way stays invisible to our eyes. All we can see is the shadow of him playing the violin. The performer's presence, by mystifying it, was put in the background, while the act of listening was clearly underlined. It was all about the listening and not seeing--or mostly. If we focus our perception only on the sound itself, we'll find it almost impossible to conceive how all these varieties of sounds may come from only one instrument. Conrad does use a lot of previously recorded sounds, but almost all of them are coming from the violin itself. So it's not by chance that he chooses the violin, which is considered the queen of instruments, the one with the largest tuning range. Conrad's "fundamental sounds" are much more complex than we can imagine. They produce a variety of possibilities, from very simple and calm ones to complex and aggressive ones. The beauty lies in these combined differences. As Conrad puts it: "I like to mix these long intervals of time, along with very short ones, and put them together..."