I animated 4 short videos, had them transferred to the rarest 4
videocassette formats and then deleted all original digital files.
GIZA QUASAR had its premiere exhibition at the Vancouver Art Gallery.
More to read:
GIZA QUASAR is an animation series. It consists of four episodes, each of four minutes in length.
The series is named after a fictional star.
The crudely animated episodes tell adventure tales around GIZA QUASAR, its capital Fuga City and its inhabitants. The series has been taped and stored on four video cassettes, one distinct video cassette system for each episode.
Episode 1: "The Interstellar Scan" on Philips VCR (video system from 1972)
Episode 2: "Matsushita reveals Giza Quasar" on Panasonic VX (video system from 1975)
Episode 3: "The Duplex Entity" on Sanyo VCordII (video system from 1976)
Episode 4: "Princess Luma’s Lost Companion" on Akai VK-30 (video system from 1977)
GIZA: an Egyptian city; site of pyramids
QUASAR: an extremely distant, and thus old, celestial object
The presentation of the work consists of four video cassettes and four posters.
The poster designs are based upon the video cassette packagings.
We find comfort in the notion of consistency. Like pyramids in a sand storm, some things shall remain immortal forever, underwhelmed by any circumstances.
These days, digital systems radiate a sense of calm. Files can be cloned and persist in eternity in infinite reproductions, as part of their DNA. They hardly mind temperature or humidity, and you won't need gloves when you unpack them.
Disruption and Residue
The proposition is to disrupt files existentially, to shake their system, literally. In order to do so, physical rearrangement is necessary. Four H.264 video files have been transferred onto obsolete video cassette systems, and all related digital files have been deleted.
The sequences receive tangible bodies that encode them. By disrupting the direct communication with the recipient, the animated episodes and their plastic shells gain in perceived value and intrinsic suspense. While all digital traces are eradicated, GIZA QUASAR potentially lives on in the residue of decayed systems. As its readability vanishes, questions emerge on dependency and immediacy between art and technology.