We are at risk of becoming “ghosts of our technology” suggests Sam Austen whose analogue celluloid-based work bestows a materiality to his moving image art practice that is an implicit critique of the encoded digital image. How has this transition impacted on our humanity? Have the screens that cloak us shrouded our authenticity? Is our identity now projected entirely through our interaction with the digital world? Can we only place meaning on our perceptions when they are screen mediated? Has our imagination become so atrophied that we can only feel empathy if representations of suffering are visual?
Austen’s recent film, Hologram Burnt onto the Retina (2018), suggests that our screens are in danger of replacing our eyes, distorting our perception and memory. Lived experience only acquires meaning through its screen representation. This was taken to its logical conclusion by the optical neuro-engineering surgery envisioned in the recent TV drama, Years and Years scripted by the Doctor Who writer, Russel T. Davies. He portrays a digital native ecstatic at the prospect of a bionic eye implant. Her digitised visual input is diverted to a screen with a direct feed to Instagram, though perhaps she has a bespoke filter to present her take on reality to her social media followers.
This blurring of the real and the represented is an inescapable axiom of visual arts. But the modern thirst for image manipulation has pushed at its boundaries. The popularisation of facadism in modern architecture, botoxing in facial aesthetics and the potential abuse of deepfake footage to discredit politicians are just three examples. CGI has infiltrated film so insidiously that we cannot know whether those batallions of soldiers or historic buildings are real or CGI. Video gaming has been a key driving force behind the advanced photorealism attained by CGI and the use of VR headsets point to a dystopian future envisioned so chillingly by the “performance installation”, Bedroom, London, 2025 exhibited by Alexa Phillips at the 2018 Goldsmiths MFA degree show.
Larry Achiampong and David Blandy’s FF Gaiden series is a spinoff from their outstanding Finding Fanon trilogy and seeks to undermine and appropriate video game aesthetics for their own purposes. In FF Gaiden: Delete currently showing at Copperfield Gallery a young woman tells her story of flight from poverty and oppression in a digitally flattened voice against the persistent whistling of the wind. She is trecking across continents in search of asylum but the landscape she is passing through is the pristine ur-California of the groundbreaking and notorious videogame Grand Theft Auto v5. Untroubled by interactions with other would-be occupants of this gaming reality, she paces steadily along the sleepers of a single railtrack, a split second away from potential death. It is a story we have become inured to in the countless retellings but in this version the grim reality of her account is mediated by CGI and a voice synthesiser. Does her avatar proxy diminish or increase our empathy for her plight? The animation drives out any sentimentality that live film might incur and the narrative gains a surreal edge from its hyper-real context leaving us to grapple with the contrast between “first world problems” (how to mitigate the downside of videogames) and real global problems (how to tackle the poverty and oppression that drives migration.)
Building a wall to repel invaders/migrants is the time honoured approach of the rich. Trump’s wall (now seemingly more of a mirage than reality) and gated housing developments are just the most recent manifestations of this strategy. Hadrian’s Wall is the focus of LA and DB’s two channel video The Wall and The Incongruous (2018) now showing at Seventeen Gallery. An animated story set in a bleak mountainous landscape commandeered from the fantasy roleplay videogame, Skyrim, is dovetailed in the parallel screen with live drone footage of Hadrian’s Wall. A walled city state that isolates itself from the surrounding countryside and consequently succumbs to a self inflicted famine is a parable for our fractured times. At the climax the landscape appears to shear away in clouds of smoke, a fitting metaphor for the implosion of the digital world that might be an early casualty of our increasingly dysfunctional era.