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Lost in the Memory Palace | The Dark Pool
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Janet Cardiff and George Bures Miller
have created, each in their particular way,
a contemporary version of
son et lumière.
Not for the sake of spectacle, although the
theatrical is a tool they find engaging and
functional, having used it to good effect
in many of their pieces. In fact, Janet
Cardiff's voice in your ears, winding
through your cochlea, insinuating itself
thoroughly into your cognitive
operations, is as theatrical an event as the
average person would wish to experience.
It's a cousin–for effectiveness–to another
theatrical use of the ear. Think of
Claudius, uncle to Hamlet, pouring poison
in the king's ear and how direct a device
that was. In the case of Cardiff and Bures
Miller, however, we have an intimate, not
toxic, potion coiling to the consciousness
of the listener.
Janet Cardiff said, in the interview that
follows, that the primary thing about her
work is the "physical aspect of sound," its
effect on the body, not the work's
narrative quality. Cardiff's and Bures
Miller's intention is to build with sound
and make the aural material, give it the
dimensionality of sculpture, realize it
synaesthetically. And this they do.
Fix the headphones to your ears, turn
on the portable CD player, and what you
have is the ear quickening the heart, the
ear tightening the belly. One sense is
stimulated, another feels the probe.
You follow the recorded voice, you do
as you're told, you're walking but you
wouldn't say you were a
flâneur.
This is
not idle strolling; it is directed. When you
pressed start you gave up control. It's the
way they want it, these collaborators,
well-schooled in the techniques of film
noir. While you're wearing the
headphones they are the directors and
what you see as you look out from the
space inside your head–this real world
that you see–accommodates their
production and becomes the "visual" of
the film they're directing. For the
duration of the audio walk, the world is
their temporal theatre. There is a sense of
menace, there's the sexual frisson of
having yielded control and then there's
the unavoidable intimacy of someone's
voice, someone's breath soft in your ear.
There's the startled dissonance, the
anxious confusion you feel when what
you hear is betrayed by what you see, and
then–what is to be believed? That
disorienting rush triggers the adrenalin
that moves you to startle or smile or cry
out–exactly the mix Cardiff and Bures
Miller are after. It's their gift to you of
making things fresh, of heightening your
awareness.
What they do in their work is
juxtapose sound and sight, and the
sensory information received from ear
and eye builds a new structure, a
montaged and layered perception. It's
this subtle complexity, this layering that
gives the work its pull and weight.
Apprehending it, then, becomes a process
of archaeology as the various strata reveal
and yield up their histories.
Seeing is believing. We know that. And
Cardiff's and Bures Miller's work urges us
also to utter, 'I can't believe my ears.'
They offer a richness and confusion of
senses that up-ends the platitudes we
draw on for comfort and when we've
experienced their pieces we recognize
that indeed they perform as art ought to
do. They take you away, move you along,
show you things fresh, enchant you,
transport you and return you safe. And
most remarkably–safe, but not unaltered.
Robert Enright interviewed Janet Cardiff
and George Bures Miller in Toronto in
November 2000 when they returned to
Ontario to film footage for their Venice
work,
The Paradise Institute.
BORDER CROSSINGS: I want to start with
how you began to collaborate.
JANET CARDIFF: We started
collaborating when we first met. I was a
grad student at the University of Alberta
and George was an undergraduate. He
was a painter and I was doing
printmaking and we met through a friend.
George had this idea that he was going to
quit and go to film school in Montreal.
We both had an interest in narrative film,
so we'd go to screenings together. We'd
do things with experimental sound and
then we started doing these short films
with George's friends from high school.
Ironically, they ended up going into film
school and we didn't.
GEORGE BURES MILLER: Those were
just experiments. We also did this
super-eight feature film called
Guardian
Angel;
it had a really bad plot that we
don't want to go into.
JC: It had a car-chase scene in it and
detectives.
GBM: A movie is not a movie without a
car chase, in my opinion. Actually, we
discovered from the experience that we
weren't really interested in becoming
filmmakers because of the whole
collaborative aspect. You have to get so
many people involved. Even with
super-eight it's still a huge process. But
our first official collaboration happened
with
The Dark Pool
.
JC: You know how it is, living with
someone who's working on a project; you
help them out and they help you out. I
was doing printmaking and George was
very involved in helping me print. I'd say,
what do you think of this? I'd be going on
and on. In many ways our whole practice
is still based on the same model. We work
individually on our own stuff but if I need
someone to do camera work or help out
in any way, then George helps out. I do
the same when he needs help. The only
problem is I'm not as useful as he is.
BC: Is it the project that determines when
you do individual work as opposed to when
you collaborate, or do you set out from the
beginning to say, I think it's time we
collaborated on something?
GBM: No, it's a development. We're
always talking ideas, but if we develop an
idea together, then it becomes a
collaborative project. With
The Dark Pool
I think Janet had been asked to do a
residency at Western Front. We'd been
talking about this larger project for a long
time but because we were both busy with
our individual work, we'd never had that
chance. Then Western Front basically
said, if you want to do a collaborative
piece, that's fine. But it developed out of
discussing whether an installation
involving all these diverse materials
would work. What was interesting about
doing
The Dark Pool
was we'd been
working separately for 10 years, but
when we started to collaborate, it became
a bit confusing. When I work for Janet or
Janet works for my projects, there's
always a boss. I throw in all kinds of
comments about her work but if it's her
project she makes the final decision.
When we were working on
The Dark Pool
we'd have arguments and there was no
one to make the final decision.
BC: Because nobody was the boss?
GBM: Exactly. Also I think we discovered
a lot about how we individually approach
making art. We work very differently.
JC: It's a very subtle difference if
someone's leading a project or if
someone's giving creative input. For my
walks I lead the project and then George
does the editing. I couldn't use anyone
else because George is really a very
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below: Janet Cardiff,
In Real Time,
1999,
audio, video walk,
Carnegie Library,
Pittsburgh. Photograph
courtesy Luhring
Augustine, NY.
Robert Enright, "Pleasure Principals: The Art of Janet Cardiff and George Bures Miller,"
Border Crossings
(78) 2001.