A five minute video of stylish bacteria was not enough to satisfy the crowd of computer fans.

Result #1

A five minute video of stylish bacteria was not enough to satisfy the crowd of computer fans. This was perhaps because the work has too much visual detail: The projected images (photographed by the artist) show a still-life of the darkening sun, casting these bacteria a ghostly white. By putting everything together in one place, these photographs set in motion the universe that has emerged from the now-absence of the light in the photograph. In the film, the light flows in from the inner world of the cloud, radiating from a certain spot in the ceiling, and creates a kind of foggy atmosphere that is not the end result of the photographs but rather the work of an invisible force, an invisible particles that will remain forever invisible. A darkness that seems as if it has been carved from the sand, a darkness that turns up at the bottom of the photograph, is the dark ground. The seemingly endless play of light and dark that pervades the picture seems to be the dividing line separating the two zones. When the light from the sun turns to dark and the dark to light, the photograph has a strange sense of order.The work is a window on an illusion that, though vivid and clear, offers no objective reality. The lights in the photographs are not the result of illumination but rather the result of a foggy, strangely artificial light, a fluid, misty, twilight that is never clear. The shadow that the camera cast on the sky is only partial and out-of-focus. The dark is an illusion created by the shutter speed of the camera, whose polar-blur operation dispenses shadows that are part of the image. This is why the camera has no shadow. The light is a shadow that will never come into the picture, which will only be for an instant, until it is caught by the lens, which is activated by the photo-sensor—a simple device for turning the camera on.

Result #2

A five minute video of stylish bacteria was not enough to satisfy the crowd of computer fans. Some of these artists indulged in the pleasures of science fiction—Pippin, living-room DJ and Wunderkauf of the late 80s and early 90s. In 1985, he created one of the most memorable computer games of all time, Super Tetris, a board game (shown in the magazine MiniMe) in which the player is pitted against the moving image. This story is told in another of the clean, straightforward video sequences, known as Tango, 1995, which serves as a sort of tour de force for a musician-computer hybrid. In it, the artist performs an abbreviated version of a set of keyboard chords, each instrument's own sound track. As he gives short and hotly bubbling chords a more complex twist, the sound of the strings ripping, the low-frequency hum of the strings rustling, and the distinctive, mechanical hum of the strings shredding compose the most complex tapestry of the four minutes.It is important to keep in mind that much of the work in this show was produced in collaboration with an orchestra, whose members were paid to create sounds that, through their coordination, could be conjugated into electronic compositions. But there was a great deal of creativity here, especially in a suite of four sound pieces called Illusionary Sounds, 1995. Four sound pieces by the artists chosen to create the pieces in this exhibition, with their sound signature placed on the back of the turntable, were created using a recamp, a machine that can amplify the sound of a recorded part to make it appear as if it has been played in a similar position in a different order. The users of these machines, whose bodies are usually removed, are physically hidden in their garb, so that they do not appear to be accomplishing anything. (The sound of the machine, which is derived from a version of Casio's Power Glove, is so distorted, it can barely be heard.

Result #3

A five minute video of stylish bacteria was not enough to satisfy the crowd of computer fans. Instead, the video projected on a monitor featured a bank of TV monitors of various cable providers using the same software, which in the video, the type of robotic device that mimics natural processes in its development, would also function as a command to the audiences own computer.The earliest of these exhibition works was Two Glass Houses, 1992, an eight-minute videotape of a house made by Reginald Galla in 1986 for Philip Johns. The houses form an intricate web of channels, each channel displaying an image that flashes back to a previous stage in its life. Each image displays a complicated pattern of patterns of light and dark, colors, and textures, which are modulated as the pixels move. Each layer of the viewers eyes is different, and the changes in the software are slow and subtle, making the viewers experience of the work feel like an image or a simulation of something else. It is as if the house were a secret place that was being explored. The software is a series of very complex algorithms that attempt to produce a seemingly randomly ordered sequence of patterns, a kind of computer-generated printing. These algorithms are generated from equations and computer science studies. The algorithms then calculate and transmit the results to the computer; the results are displayed on a monitor, which itself creates a complex pattern of patterns. It is a systems based art that involved a more diverse array of ideas and functions. The programs involved in the second of the shows works is called Asterisk, 1992, and it consists of a complex series of interconnected computer-printed patterns that function as computer-generated patterns. The patterns allow the viewer to manipulate the patterns they produce, to see the patterned patterns in a different way than what they simulate. The system is more complex than one might imagine, but the mathematical computation is relatively straightforward, so that the viewer does not have to spend long in learning to see the patterns in order to understand the complex patterns.

Result #4

A five minute video of stylish bacteria was not enough to satisfy the crowd of computer fans. As if to speak for those who never had the opportunity to see the film, here we sit in the gallery, watching a video of our lives which, according to the art history, we have never been allowed to see, our lives. This is where the power of the Internet comes into play. In a second room, Vidiotriple, a video of the unplugged body of an Egyptian engineer, is a kind of hygienically ingenious counterpoint to this new video. The Egyptian engineer walks into the video camera and keeps the camera focused on the location of the black silicon film in the white vaporware. A small red button is pushed to the lower left. The camera continues to watch, and a voice is added. The engineer looks up at us with both emotion and curiosity as he walks into the black vaporware and retrieves the camera and its battery.The first room of the gallery was dominated by two video-sculpture installations by Marianne Boeser. The first was a series of eight short black-and-white photographs titled Projekt 6 (Prototype 6) (all works 2001), each of which shows a black sculpture that is identical to its model. The white sculpture is a sort of artificial human, created by merging the two characteristics of human life: individuality and individuality's natural history. The final work in this group was a video installation entitled Le Bau (The Bridge), consisting of nine video screens covering an area of four acres of land near Barcelona. The sculptures, each constructed of steel and resin, appear on the camera, like the sections of a bridge. The bridge is a point where the whole world diverges, a site of immense distance. The spatial illusionism of the earthworks and the bridge are transformed into a beautiful poetic harmony with the natural world. There was a feeling of spiritual peace that permeated the space.