In the late 70's and early 80's the video art movement was in part a reaction to the money market behind the arts. It was easily reproduced and shown in a variety of context. Last week I was part of a dedicated team that installed one of the largest exhibitions of Colin's work outside of the National gallery. I was surrounded by ghosts. The pressures and joys of being a part of something so moving and monumental left me drained and touched by the emotional stigma that surrounds his work. He never did anything alone. Last night, after the show and working almost non stop for two weeks I dreamt in video. I watched myself on screen. Walking by in a favorite shirt, looking disheveld, intoxicated and in a separate state. I remembered the scene as I was watching it, remembered it as I dreamt it and as I had recorded it. I felt ghosts. I saw my own ghost.
There are always recurring thoughts when I have made single independent works in the past. Eating oneself. Being both created and destroyed in any instant. A complete paradox of existance.
After watching myself I realized that I had been dreaming video. I saw the apparitions emerge from artifact ridden screens and dissolve behind blurs and distortions in projections. Light may be an illusion but is still the best kind.
