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At
Brändström & Stene, the young American artist Jordan Wolfson
presents a looped four-minute video that takes viewers on a digital roller-coaster
ride. Projected on a screen big enough to make the viewer feel almost
physically present within the work, Infinite Melancholy, 2003, is a continuous
panning shot in which the camera seems to fly over a flat white surface.
The words CHRISTOPHER REEVE sometimes legible, sometimes dissolving
into a blur as the camera appears to slow down and speed up are
printed over and over in endless rows on this otherwise featureless plane.
It's as if you were flying up the side of an infinitely tall skyscraper
in the arms of Superman while at the same time confronting the fate of
the actor who played him. A down-tempo piano sound track undercuts the
sense of exhilarating motion and heightens the feeling that there's a
comment on American hubris in here somewhere. But Wolfson's light, almost
off-the-cuff approach prevents things from tying themselves too neatly
into a conceptual knot.
-Power Ekroth
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