Differing Display: How Moving-Image Media is Changed with New Installations

“I was a good boy. You were a good boy. We were good boys. That was good.” These are the first four phrases of Bruce Nauman’s piece Good Boy Bad Boy. Nauman is an artist not easily defined by a medium. He has worked with sculpture, photography, neon, video, drawing, printmaking, and performance. Some of his most well-known pieces are his early film works. However, he moved away from the medium for more than ten years. After this hiatus, he returned to the moving-image to create Good Boy Bad Boy (a video work from 1985). This piece runs on a loop, ever changing. When installed properly, each moment created by the two simultaneously playing video screens is unique and will not be repeated until the piece is played from the start again. Given that film and video are time-based mediums, an extended amount of time is required to experience the work. If this experience of the work is altered by the way in which it is displayed, the work itself has changed.

From my first introduction to Good Boy Bad Boy, I was enamored. It was shown to me in the spring semester of my freshman year in college. Projected on a pulldown screen for the whole class, we watched videos “A” and “B” in succession via the website www.ubu.com. Subsequently, I watched these two videos alone on my laptop over and over, transfixed by their profound simplicity. As much as I loved the work and was happy with the view from my laptop screen, I longed to see it installed in a museum setting; I felt there was something missing. To watch the videos in succession, as I did, was in fact not the intended viewing. They are meant to play simultaneously. Ubu.com describes the work and its proper installation:

[T]wo monitors are displayed at head height on pedestals. The head and shoulders of a young black man appear on one; on the other is an older white woman. They both speak the same one hundred phrases, which are the repeated conjugation of the verb 'to be' linked with the term 'good boy': 'I am a good boy. You are a good boy. We are good boys…' and so on. They each go through the sequence five times, beginning in a flat neutral tone, and becoming increasingly animated and intense until by the fifth recitation they appear very angry. Their techniques of delivery are quite different, and result in a slippage of time, so that played on a continuous loop, the two tapes become out of sequence. 'Because they are actors, it's not autobiographical, it's not real anger, but pretending to be angry and they are pretty good at it, but maybe not really convincing.' (Nauman quoted in Bruce Nauman 1998, p.104.) Nauman exploits the different levels of reading experienced by the viewer who, coming in part way through the piece, will be confronted by a barrage of contradictory accusations. Despite the straightforward recitation of basic grammar, the actors' direct eye contact to the camera (and therefore the viewer) and the mounting emotional intensity of their delivery together suggest aggression and attack rather than education. As in much of Nauman's work, attraction and repulsion operate equally to disturb and disorientate the viewer.

This statement, and the low quality online videos, were the only things I had to understand this piece. I never experienced walking into a room with two monitors at head height, running videos parallel but not in sync. Although it would have been a closer approximation to the intended installation, I had not thought to play the videos on my laptop simultaneously in two separate windows. And yet, I remember making the claim this was my all-time favorite work of art.

As a viewer, had I actually seen this as a work of art? Is video art work that has been detached from its installation specifications the same as in an ideal setting? Do new installations create different interpretations of the same work? Are the works the same even within different contexts? These questions did not come to mind until the fall of my junior year when I finally stumbled upon multiple examples of Nauman’s work on display at the Museum of Contemporary Art Chicago (MCA). The museum had the option to present Good Boy Bad Boy as a standalone work or posing it as part of a larger whole. The MCA framed this piece within an installation titled Chambres d’Amis (Krefeld Piece) which was originally displayed in 1985 at the Museum Haus Esters in Krefeld, Germany. With this three room installation, “Nauman attempted to suggest the atmosphere of his studio, in which one thing leads to another,

A low quality image of Bruce Nauman’s sketch of Chambres d’Amis (Krefeld Piece) 1987. The two video monitors of Good Boy Bad Boy can be seen from above in the top center square room.[1]

connecting through a process of free association, taking on a variety of ambiguous meanings. He was working against the atmosphere of the museum, in which works of art tend to be defined hierarchically and to be categorized uncomfortably.”[2] Good Boy Bad Boy occupied the middle of the three rooms at the MCA as it did in the original 1985 installation. This room is too tight and restrictive for a full audience. There is only enough space for about three people to see the work and stand comfortably. Had Good Boy Bad Boy been displayed alone, as many museums do, a different experience would have been created. Rather than making associations between this work and other Nauman pieces on display, the content of Good Boy Bad Boy could have been the focus. Both installation approaches are valid, coming directly from the artist, and worth experiencing, but they bring about different meanings in the work, thus a new work is created.

The essential nature of the videos remained the same in every instance of display. The experience in the museum was very different than seeing the images enlarged to fit a projector screen or shrunk small for a laptop. If you ignore the differences in technical quality between the online and museum versions, the videos themselves appear to be identical. Everything except the video is changed in each instance of viewing. The circumstances for viewing a work like this are not essential to find meaning in the work. Although at first I did not experience Good Boy Bad Boy as it was intended, I was aware of the ideal installation and could imagine the setting from the given information. The video out of context was enough to captivate me and ignite an inner dialogue about the conceptual ideas and larger issues present in the work. With this said, before experiencing this piece in a museum, I had a feeling there was something missing while viewing it on an online platform. Perhaps this was a perception that had less to do with the videos themselves and more to do with the atmosphere of the museum and the way human behavior is controlled by that atmosphere. The act of walking around a museum viewing objects is different from sitting at home casually viewing media on laptop or television screens. I longed to see Good Boy Bad Boy in a museum, not for the historically or artistically accurate presentation, but for the intangible aura given to the work from the institutional setting. The proper installation of this work, whether alone or in within Chambres d’Amis (Krefeld Piece), is absolutely preferred, and would be an overall better experience as a viewer. However, such specifications are not always necessary. In some instances, preferred installation is disregarded to allow for increased accessibility.

Ubu.com, the website from which I sourced Good Boy Bad Boy, is an online platform that makes avant-garde films and videos available to anyone with a computer and internet access. With each video, they offer a short explanation or interpretation of the artist and their work. Many of the works Ubu.com streams are only seen in festivals and exhibitions that take place in large metropolitan cities. Their goal is to increase access to film and video works of art regardless of time and location. Under the heading “About UbuWeb Film & Video,” they state:

[I]t is important to us that you realize that what you will see is in no way comparable to the experience of seeing these gems as they were intended to be seen: in a dark room, on a large screen, with a good sound system and, most importantly, with a roomful of warm, like-minded bodies.

However, we realize that the real thing isn't very easy to get to. Most of us don't live anywhere near theatres that show this kind of fare and very few of us can afford the hefty rental fees, not to mention the cumbersome equipment, to show these films. Thankfully, there is the internet which allows you to get a whiff of these films regardless of your geographical location.[3]

Here, they acknowledge the fact that what they offer is not the work in its ideal setting but rather “a whiff.” What is viewable to the public is a browse-able collection of mostly low quality “crummy shockwave files.” The files are not considered works of art themselves, but they are a means of displaying works of art. Proper installation or experience may be lost, but a much larger audience is gained. Ubu.com does not contain the entirety of any artist’s film and video oeuvre nor is every artist working in these mediums represented by this website. For whatever reasons, Ubu.com has curated their selection to just a few examples from only the most significant artists. One might assume some pieces were intentionally not disseminated online to preserve the aura of a proper installation, as well as to prevent copyright infringement. By limiting access, the perception and use of the work is controlled to a particular setting or environment for viewing.

Good Boy Bad Boy at the MCA, 2017. Samuel Snodgrass

A work of art only seen within the walls of a museum is seen and understood by visitors in the way the curators frame or present the piece. Everything is considered, from the wall text, the adjacent works of art, and even the museum guard reminding visitors not to stand so close. Conversely, in an online viewing format, the elements a curator attempts to control – become available for the viewer to control. One can pause, rewind, and fast-forward at will, even have music or TV on in the background. You can watch a video in its entirety, but on mute. Perception of a piece is affected by all the things around it as well as the audience itself. Given, for example, a large number of online viewers to one avant-garde video piece: most will probably have a general interest in video art but fewer will have in-depth prior knowledge of the artist or their work. Less than half might watch the whole piece from beginning to end, and some may have no interest in the work and simply stumbled upon the video by accident. No matter who the audience is, viewers have more agency over how they engage with a work of art when accessed through a website rather than a museum. This is not a traditional way of experiencing art, but it is free from institutional motives and politics.

Visitors to a museum will have various levels of prior knowledge, but they all came to the museum at their will, presumably with the intent to be inspired or learn something. A work of art available for anyone to see online is subject to alternative interpretations that are seldom possible in a museum. This is not an appealing quality to all artists. Some works require installation specifications in order to garner understanding of all the conceptual connections. In such a case, an online video of the same piece could be misleading and understood by the viewer in wildly different ways than was intended.

Perception of an artwork can just as easily be changed within one institution as it can be between modes of dissemination. This was done, as previously described, with Good Boy Bad Boy in its use as part of an installation. This is an example of the display parameters changing around an identical work of art. It is possible that, due to conservation and preservation efforts, the work itself will change, thus creating a new experience. With the insistent obsolescence of film, museums opt to display film works in a new digitized format. Two versions of the same work exist and are displayed almost identically. Both are projected light onto a rectilinear screen. The difference between the images seen is only slightly noticeable, but difficult to qualify in words. Once again, the word “aura” is used to describe a sense of authenticity in the film, just as proper installation gave authenticity to works of art and the online versions seemed prosaic by contrast. Although not ideal, the shift to digital formats is practical and necessary for many institutions. The material of the work is less important than the experience of it. Even if the physical objects that make a work are not original from the artist, the work is still (subjectively) a success when the experience of the work is intact.[4]

Consider paintings rather than film or video. When a painting is restored there may be cracks filled in or colors retouched. New paint is sometimes added in this process, which ideally recreates the image as it would have been when the artist made it. The added paint is not original, but the image as a whole is as the artist intended. Likewise, with film works of art that have been digitized, the files and projector are not original, but the projected moving-image is the artist’s authentic creation.

With every change within or around an artwork, be it for preservation or conceptual reasons, one could argue that a new work of art is made even after the most minuscule alterations. If not, then a new experience (for the viewer) of a work is made. One piece could change formats, be moved to a different room, or remain still and have other pieces moved around it, and each time the experience is different. All of these alterations (typically) have nothing to do with the artist’s conception of their work. Given the amount of control an institution has over the way artwork is displayed and interpreted, there is still much room or leeway for free associations and happenstance.

 While this might be a consequence of video installations, it was a conceptual foundation for many artists of the Fluxus movement. Yoko Ono, an early fluxus artist, thrived in making experiential installations. So much of her work, if it has a physical manifestation at all, is ephemeral. A piece will be displayed or performed for a given amount of time and then taken down, unable to be recreated or seen in that specific way ever again. The same piece can look unrecognizable in each location it is displayed. This is in reference to her interactive works where visitor to a gallery or museum build, write, cut, or paint the installation based on her instructions. In an interview from 2000 for Sculpture, Ono describes her work as if she is a composer and the artwork is her song:

The concept is my work. You can say that it’s the score: in music there is a score, and, let’s say, Mozart wrote it and maybe played it once and made a notation or two. And now it’s played by a group of people centuries later and… it’s just viewed as a musical score that [anyone can play]. But that’s not done very much in the art world because most people just do the art-work and do not allow other people to participate in it. But, in my case, it’s instruction–the instruction is like a score. So, it’s all right that it’s repeated and repeated by other people…. the environment makes a big difference to the piece. Again, it’s the concept that is the work.[5]

Installations of film and video work could be viewed in the same way as Ono describes. A museum acquires a work with its specific installation requirements, but has freedom beyond the specifications to display the work in a way that is conceptually driven and logistically possible for the space. The art work is fixed (like a score by Mozart) and the presentation is ever changing (like the musicians that play Mozart). Furthering this analogy, I would compare a museum quality installation of Good Boy Bad Boy to a professional symphony and videos on my laptop at home to a school band. They are the same thing, but not the same thing.

Time based work, like film and video, implies an experience. The factors that create or change the experience are just as important as the work itself, and to some extent are the work. The quality of a video can be diminished to allow for easy access and viewing. The tangible installation parameters, as determined by the artist or an institution, dissipate when videos are available online. In this transformation, more freedom is given to the viewer in determining the context and factors under which they prefer to see the work. With freedom in display comes freedom in understanding and interpretations of the work. The museum is a more controlled environment that presents pieces in a specific way to propagate a specific curatorial aim. Both approaches are valuable and necessary. Different installations or forms of display for the same work of art should be seen as iterations that carry different associations and create new experiences.

[1] Bruce Nauman, Chambres d’Amis (Krefeld Piece) 1987. Graphite pencil on paper. Whitney Museum of American Art, New York; Gift of Richard Marshall 2015.277

[2] Morgan, Robert C., ed. Bruce Nauman. A PAJ Book. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2002.

[3] "About UbuWeb Film & Video." UbuWeb Film & Video. Accessed April 24, 2018. http://www.ubu.com/film/index.html.

[4] Saaze, Vivian Van. Installation Art and the Museum: Presentation and Conservation of Changing Artworks. Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 2013.

[5] Huberty, Erica-Lynn. “Art As Creative Dialogue: An Interview with Yoko Ono.” Sculpture 19, no. 10 (December 2000): 40-45.