2008 Woodie Awards
The freedom of breaking silence
Louis Virtel - The Daily Iowan
Issue date: 2/11/08 Section: Arts
"VOOM Portraits," a cheeky, gargantuan video-screen exhibition at the UI Museum of Art, ropes in viewers with things they've already seen - whether in US Weekly or The Enquirer. For instance, Brad Pitt (yep, it's really him) stands in white boxer shorts, lifting a gun toward the camera while rain pelts his pecs. To your left, Salma Hayek basks in black-and-white photography in tribute to silent-screen starlets. Winona Ryder shows up too, not to mention burlesque performer Dita Von Teese, wearing nipple tassles and platform heels, sans ex-husband Marilyn Manson.
Still, VOOM's "meaning" can be a puzzler, even amid easy pop-culture recognition. But the exhibit's calculating maestro, the renowned artist Robert Wilson, throws us a big hint: In one video screen, Princess Caroline of Monaco's shadowed silhouette pops up against a sharp gray backdrop. As Caroline's regal poise and face illuminate in streaks, ever so slowly, her hands are revealed. The right hand points at the left, which sports a gently glistening wedding ring. To all of us extra-cool movie buffs, the allusion to Alfred Hitchcock's Rear Window is apparent.
But for those who, say, aren't pretentious film buffs (shame on you all), the video portrait references Grace Kelly's climactic scene in Hitchcock's 1954 thriller. Grace Kelly, of course, is Princess Caroline's late mother, which makes the portrait touching, mostly, again, for us pretentious film jerks. Yet Wilson's throwback to Hitchcock, the much-declared "Master of Suspense," points to VOOMs real fixation: stillness and the potential of slight, intentional movement to jar us. And even if you can't name all of VOOMs faces, the exhibit's mystique translates to everyone, not just those of us who surf Perez Hilton after every meal.
Roaming the halls of VOOM feels nothing like a silent, staid museum designed for quiet contemplation. Noises roar from the video screens, permeating the halls and drifting into sinister hushes. The rusty screech of one screen never relents; Willem Dafoe stands in front of a hellish blaze as his body gyrates in grotesque animation. Something like the boiler room in Nightmare on Elm Street by way of Salvador Dali. Messed-up, you're correct.
Still, VOOM's "meaning" can be a puzzler, even amid easy pop-culture recognition. But the exhibit's calculating maestro, the renowned artist Robert Wilson, throws us a big hint: In one video screen, Princess Caroline of Monaco's shadowed silhouette pops up against a sharp gray backdrop. As Caroline's regal poise and face illuminate in streaks, ever so slowly, her hands are revealed. The right hand points at the left, which sports a gently glistening wedding ring. To all of us extra-cool movie buffs, the allusion to Alfred Hitchcock's Rear Window is apparent.
But for those who, say, aren't pretentious film buffs (shame on you all), the video portrait references Grace Kelly's climactic scene in Hitchcock's 1954 thriller. Grace Kelly, of course, is Princess Caroline's late mother, which makes the portrait touching, mostly, again, for us pretentious film jerks. Yet Wilson's throwback to Hitchcock, the much-declared "Master of Suspense," points to VOOMs real fixation: stillness and the potential of slight, intentional movement to jar us. And even if you can't name all of VOOMs faces, the exhibit's mystique translates to everyone, not just those of us who surf Perez Hilton after every meal.
Roaming the halls of VOOM feels nothing like a silent, staid museum designed for quiet contemplation. Noises roar from the video screens, permeating the halls and drifting into sinister hushes. The rusty screech of one screen never relents; Willem Dafoe stands in front of a hellish blaze as his body gyrates in grotesque animation. Something like the boiler room in Nightmare on Elm Street by way of Salvador Dali. Messed-up, you're correct.
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