It was a successful presentation of three short videos.

Result #1

It was a successful presentation of three short videos. The animation, by artist Ludo Kalliopi, was an ancient, modulated, backward view of the city of Athens. In it he studied the traffic and left in its place the further study of the citys past and present, which he was at work in the same room. He watched and measured the movement of the streets, saw the shadows that were cast, tried to look at the buildings. Kalliopi observed the city like a hawk, and his work was all the more resolute because he was unable to find a way out of the labyrinth of past and present. In the middle of the installation, he placed a large, black wooden door and put his own body inside it. This door was able to open, but in this state, it was closed. So, too, were the lights and the moving city in these small screens. The lighting on these screens is often different from those on the walls. If there is a dark room, the lights on the screens stay on the walls. Kalliopi is constantly observing what is happening in that room, and he is continuously engaged in a dialogue with it. The light and dark, invisible, are never seen in tandem. While there is a constant cycle of activity on the walls, the light on the screens is always suspended. If Kalliopi walks, he is always on the move. His body becomes a part of the room; he is there in real time. Here, in one of the three video works, the artists partner is the city, the citys real-time communication.Kalliopi worked in a great deal of detail to study the architecture of Athens. He took great care to extract details from the exterior of the buildings. The citys walls and doors were examined in detail.

Result #2

It was a successful presentation of three short videos. They were titled Mission Statement: The National Strategy for Light and Space, 1991, and Survey of Space, 1990. Here the act of determining the purpose of a given thing is decisive, and from each act, an atomic nucleus—a most fundamental structure of reality—is determined. The famous slogan of German science, that of the physicist, the chemist, and the physicist—that of War—was stillborn here. But the problem, also of the piece, was with the extreme statement of the most elementary elements, which seemed to give rise to nothing, and to use up their natural substances as if their purpose were merely to become beautiful. If it was not in any way to disappear into these materials, then it was also not to disappear into the viewers materiality, a fact that was expressed by the form of the works, an extremely industrial one.Art in the Present, a press release issued by the Museum of Contemporary Art in New York, documents the exhibition. It is entitled This Works Works, and the artwork is a direct response to the physicality of the present. The video pieces were grouped into a grid of four-part chromatic formations that were collaged together from different materials. Each chromatic group was embedded in a crystal of one hundred times less common. A latticework of transistors is glued onto the surface of the crystal. It is thus the inverse of the process of time, and it is a thing that in the present, times are to be reckoned with, and that there is no other, like time, that exists. The next cell is a bluish-purple-gray block of electricity, the last a dark orange on a dark gray, and the light blue represented by the white surface of the ground.

Result #3

It was a successful presentation of three short videos.  The first was a slow and complex animation that did not reveal any surprises.  The second was a three-channel stereoscopic video that showed a masked man dressed in black and with a white mask pretending to talk to a viewer.  The third was a photograph that appeared to be a mirror. The artist, presumably the same, is pictured from behind, and his face is mirrored; the artist and mirror, alike, are identical in size. In each case the figure has a mask, and the masked man is in reality a man wearing a white mask. In the third video, a different masked man stands in front of the mirror-wearing artist.  The masked man is in fact a man wearing a mask and his mask is a man wearing a white mask, though the white man has a different mask. In the first video the mask is fairly revealing, a bit like a mask or a wig.  In the second the mask reveals much more, and in the third the mask reveals little at all, like an old joke. The figure with the mask, who also has a mask, does not have a mask; he has his mask.  His face is completely covered by a white mask.  His mask is a man with a white mask. The masked man in the third video is totally obscured; his mask reveals his face very little at all. But there is a white mask covering his face, and the mask that covers his face is a mask of his own. The masked man in the fourth video is totally obscured, and his mask is a mask that covers his face. This white mask is a mask of the mask. The masked man in the fifth video is completely obscured. His mask is a mask that covers his face. In each of the above, the mask is black. The masks on the masked man in the fifth video is black. The masks on the masked man in the sixth video are black.

Result #4

It was a successful presentation of three short videos.  In We Need more time, 2016, a well-known abstract painter Tadeusz Chlamins applies a type of paint that's already applied to canvas, stretching it horizontally across the floor to create a seemingly geometric but uncanny bridge. In Diatribe, 2017, a second-generation Abstract Expressionist painter Jan Jerzy Wolosz (1857–1940) works on a similar scale, creating an irregular pattern of blue, pink, and white paint in thin lines that abruptly descend into a rigid geometric pattern. In these instances, we see the artists application as a reflection on the artists own mental state, as well as the mental environment of the artists surroundings—a means of revisiting the primary point of view, but also of re-creating the exact behavior of the artist himself. The third video in the show, Diatribe, 2017, comes directly from Wolosz, whose conception of the painting resembles that of a helicopter flight in which the artist creates an enormous mess of strokes in a single motion. This two-minute projection shows us a miniature painting by Wolosz lying propped up against the wall, causing a massive blur of white paint that flirts with the viewer as he moves around it, forcing him to close his eyes to absorb the shock. The illusion of a sensual, sculptural form is created in this short, but highly realistic, but still immaterial, loop. In the final installation, He Wasn't the Artist, 2017, a team of seven paintings by the artist are displayed in a large room. Three of them are finished, each with a trace of paint that has been applied to a canvas. The four largest, Untitled (Man-Made), 2015, is painted in a monochromatic brown, while Untitled (Blue paint), 2015, is in a white, gridded base. These three works are shows central works, and they continue to fascinate the viewers mind.