Video artists are often terrified of the term “short film” the term seems to carry connotations of a lesser art, a form of the media that caters to a general public, a form that describes a quirky 5 minute film and is generally used to entertain. However, this fear of the term “short film” often leads the artists into a dizzying spiral of anti-aesthetic mumbo jumbo, I myself frequently see video work that is either so boring I find myself comatose in front of the screen thinking, “I better not leave yet” out of fear that I’ll miss what must be the point of the work, or work that is so visually and audibly aggressive I am completely appalled. I don’t mean to say that all aggressive or anti-aesthetic video work lacks merit- often these pieces employ these moods to describe a situation or create a specific experience. But I feel that more often than not this type of video work is created out of fear, that the artists are afraid- afraid to be aesthetically pleasing, afraid to make themselves accessible to the viewer, afraid to create a pleasant experience for the viewer- afraid that they will be seen as film makers, not visual artists.

So, I was pleasantly surprised when I found myself in David Castillo Gallery watching an absolutely mystifying sequence of images. It didn’t matter to categorize these pieces as short film, video, animation, or any variation thereof – what was of relevance was the absolute transformative power these pieces carry. Within seconds, the sounds and dream like images had moved me directly into some bizarre fantasy world. A sublime place where even violent metaphors were presented with absolute poeticism, there was no particular story line, at least none apparent to me but rather the videos seemed to be completely about the visceral experience. The graceful, minimal installation allowed each piece to be absorbing – in fact even in a moment when the images were icy, (blues, and purples filled the projection) the gallery air seemed to blow a cold wind on the back of your shoulder. The sound, despite the enormity of the first video shown was just barely audible, giving the impression that you had somehow snuck away for just a moment – like a child hiding under his/her bedcover.

I saw a lot of shows that night, Adam Schecter’s was the first- but two weeks have passed and I continue to think about the images. I am provoked to wonder at the metaphors- two weeks later. I was never slapped in the face with an obvious narrative and I am thankful to an artist who gives the audience enough credit to allow them that kind of space.