In (and out) of place

Dillon Paul and Lindsey Wolkowicz’s In Place

From overhead the parents’ bed, we watch the rhythm of a family’s life. 168 hours of activity condensed to a 168-minute loop, all the segments of time, sleep, duty, work and pleasure, spent over the course of a week. Seven days looking down at what happens on the bed in the home of two artists with a small child.

Once I looked at the screen and it was black. The lights were out. They were sleeping.

Another time I looked at the screen and the bed was empty. They were out.

(Photo by Henry Chan)

Another time I looked and one of the women was working on her laptop computer, her legs twitching in fast motion. But otherwise, seated and motionless.

(Photo by Henry Chan)

Every time I looked at this durational piece in the gallery, it just so happened there was very little going on on-screen. I was frustrated by this waiting – as if, as mothers, we are not already at the mercy of another person’s conception of time, prisoners to the slow pace of childhood. I felt my patience tested by this piece, and maybe that’s the point. It certainly mimics motherhood, in that case.

On a website Natalie Loveless has set up, Dillon Paul has posted a selection of moments from this piece, running for ten minutes and on three screens simultaneously, and this was much more interesting to me, as there was more to look at. I got a good impression of their busy-ness, these two mothers raising their daughter, laundry appearing and popping off in fast motion to reappear folded neatly, then disappear altogether. All the reading, of children’s books, of the newspaper, the bowls of snacks, the working on computer, their bodies asleep, the tenderness, and all the domestic chores, the repetitious activities. And of course, from above, like God, I can look down and admire the beauty of their child – all children. Their private life in bed felt suddenly very familiar, universal, but it wasn’t an impression I could get from the longer version in which the piece seemed more informed by emptiness and the absence, rather than the presence, of the mothers.


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March 26, 2012 · 4:02 am

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