Museum of the Moving Image - Overexposed: Art, Technology, and the Body

De Humani Corporis Fabrica (2022)

Véréna Paravel and Lucien Castaing-Taylor

by Cass Brent-Nurse


The Museum of the Moving Image exhibition, Overexposed: Art, Technology, and the Body, presents the viewer with an almost overwhelming portrait of the human body and the technological ways we can perceive it. When you first enter the exhibition, you are greeted by well-known, even quaint depictions of technology-focused images of the body, like early X-rays and animations.

As you make your way through the exhibition, however, the artists’ featured endeavour to complicate and even reshape your view of the body as it relates to technological advancements, and especially the field of medicine. In De Humani Corporis Fabrica (2022), directors Véréna Paravel and Lucien Castaing-Taylor present an in-depth and often close-to-obscene hexaptych of the human body through the medical lens, combining images of highly invasive surgical procedures into bloodied body cavities with footage of the medical staff who perform this work, whether commenting flippantly on the severity of their patients’ conditions or attempting to blow off steam at a club after work. Unnervingly, the film emotionally binds us to these enigmatic medical personnel while simultaneously allowing us to distance ourselves from the patients, who are intimately presented to us as bodies split open on an operating table rather than individuals. This dehumanizing perspective places the viewer on the same side as the medical staff, severing the body from the being to view it through the sterile medical lens.

This exhibition forces the viewer to consider their own body and their image of it in this technologically advanced, all-too-often insensitive world.

Hand Written Journal 3- Sasha Gillespie

Reflection 3- Focus: Minjeong An "Self Portrait_Rachaph" in 417 Body Constructs, Moma PS1 

Sasha Gillespie

Hand Written Journal 2- Sasha Gillespie

 Reflection 2: Focus Frank Gillette, Spectra Obscura

Sasha Gillespie

Rebecca Ness: Inheritance

     I found this exhibit to be a refreshing homage to life and art culture. As I passed each work I felt as though I was in on the joke, being invited to the artist's wealth of experience in traditional and modern fine arts. The paintings were a fascinating mix of trompe l'oeil and historical moments, cherry picking pieces of art history and bringing time forward with current sentiments and queer symbols. As a queer show I felt there was a refreshing lack of overtly sexual shock art, instead replaced with an intimate view of queer romance and pride. These works retold the artist story but were right beside city life and modern internet culture. A detail I did not notice until later review was that each painting had a distinct background, that of an art school pin-up wall, each panel bolted in as needed. There is a nice efficiency to the work, even in the midst of all that detail, the painter lets go and lets the viewer imagine. The only piece that broke this recall exercise was the gay bar scene; the painting is inherently photographic. The build of moments in time is abruptly broken and we are now in our time. At first I felt adverse to this break, but then tying into the inheritance theming I think the bar is a culmination of our history thrown back at us, hopefully to show how far we have come in the face of adversity.

The Museum of Moving Image; Overexposed (Art and Technology)

     Stepping into the gallery I first noticed the stark absence of natural light, cuing me in to the artificial nature of the theme. The gallery opened with X-Rays, mainly I think to open up the discussion of what we are generally familiar with seeing and what we as the audience should be fascinated with "revealing". At first the pure fantastical amusement beyond the initial scientific breakthrough was shocking, as I am so familiar with X-Rays as a strictly medical practice that I did not even connect the dots to the "peepshows" on display. I felt a certain willingness to be amazed and join the spectacle of the naked body. Naked Truth, the spectacles on display that were to be used to look up a woman's skirt, was the first clue to me. We as the audience are viewing these X-Rays in a feminist manner, reflecting on the male gaze and that particular view of the nude. This idea began to rapidly tie into every other display, starting with the experimental films. Grandmamauntsistercat, the surreal collaged film featured a hodge-podge of a women's collective life and functions juxtaposed with domestic machinery recreating procreation. The experience of this gallery was entirely strange and at times deeply uncomfortable. I felt the purpose of the pieces were almost to find a mechanical alternative/replacement for women's suffering, searching for a sexuality unexploited by the patriarchy. At the same time I believe there was a small victory of humanity, a celebration of life. Nurses complaining, partying, chattering away to one another, finding comfort together, maybe a silver of hope for our society.

Revised- Vignettes and Mutations by Eric White at GRIMM Gallery

 

Revised Vignettes and Mutations by Eric White at GRIMM Gallery Review

Stella Kowalsky

       Vignettes & Mutations by Eric White at GRIMM Gallery is a deeply introspective exhibition by creating a feeling of partially remembered experiences rather than complete narratives. In one piece, a woman sits at a table with her face cropped and partially hidden. The viewer is placed in an uncertain position, we are close to the subject yet separated from her. Because important visual information is withheld from us the image feels familiar while also distant, like the painting of a car interior facing an unreadable billboard against a sunset which presents a perspective that feel like is uncommon in painting but more in photography. Instead of observing a clear scene, we are put in a position that feels personal, almost as if we are seeing through someone else’s eyes.

       The exhibition drew me in through its realism. They initially resemble photographs because of their precision and attention to visual detail, but after spending more time with them, they feel a lot more strange and constructed. Rather than simply documenting a scene, they create moments that seem suspended between memory and fiction. The work forces us to become aware of our own process of looking. As we search for meaning in the images, we notice details that felt insignificant at first. The paintings feel deeply personal without relying on dramatic events or direct emotional displays, emotion emerges through absence and suggestion. The spacing and arrangement of the paintings creates the feeling of moving through a series of individual moments rather than following one continuous story. Each work acts like a vignette, revealing fragments of people and environments that hint at larger stories. Details like the jewelry, cigarettes, objects on tables, paintings within paintings, and domestic interiors are clues about the lives represented in the work. These objects don’t function as random decorations they show habits, personalities, and histories of the people depicted. White is interested in how people leave traces of themselves through the objects and spaces they occupy.

      White becomes both a collector and participant within these images making a visual archive that reflects not only the people around him but also his own perspective and relationship to memory. These paintings suggest that identity can’t be fully understood through a single image or narrative. It emerges through accumulation, small details, fleeting encounters, and partial views that slowly build a larger understanding of a person and of the artist himself.

 

When walking through the Whitney Museum of American Art, Kainoa Gruspe’s Welcome to here—doorstops immediately attracted my attention. This piece incorporates many found objects, including salvaged stone; kiawe wood, haole koa wood, and Douglas fir; coconut fiber, plastic, and cement. The installation is composed of many small pieces, usually combining two or three materials together. For example, one piece consists of a stone enclosed within a woven rope structure, while another features a found glass bottle tied onto a brick with rope. These pieces are scattered casually across the floor, giving the installation an unfinished and organic feeling, as if the objects naturally accumulated within the gallery space rather than being carefully arranged.

The diversity of materials and the contrast between different ways of treating them add a strong sense of civilization and history to the work. It gives the impression that these objects had been used for a long time before being collected and displayed. The rough surfaces, weathered textures, and handmade qualities create a feeling that the materials carry traces of everyday life and labor. For instance, the way plant fibers are woven around the stones constantly reminds me of traditional fish traps. Another piece, in which burlap is wrapped around a stone and secured with plastic zip ties, makes me think of bundled pork sold in markets or prepared for cooking. These uses of materials evoke memories of past ways of living experiences. Although the objects themselves are simple, the combinations of natural fibers, industrial materials, and salvaged fragments create layers of cultural associations.

Considering that Gruspe collected many of these objects from golf courses, hotels, and military bases in Hawaii, the work inevitably reflects his thoughts on extractive relationships between colonialism, industrialization and the environment. Through creating these doorstops, Gruspe hopes to keep the door open for more possibilities in the future. The title itself suggests resistance against closure, as if memory, history, and cultural identity can still remain active in spite of environmental and social transformation.

The other piece that echoes this work from a distance is heʻe and leho forever / cones. It is composed of hanging translucent fabrics, shells, fishing materials, wood, and found objects. The translucent fabric is supported by a wooden frame and a piece of cement, standing upright on the floor like a fishing net. Gruspe embroiders onto this surface and attaches fossilized squid to it.

The title uses Hawaiian words: “heʻe” means octopus and “leho” refers to a seashell. These references connect the artwork closely to the ocean and to Hawaiian culture. The cement comes from Kālia, a site that was later developed into the Hilton Hawaiian Village resort, suggesting Hawaii’s colonial history and the impact of industrialization on the ocean and the land. Gruspe transforms these remnants of developed land into parts of his artwork, encouraging viewers to reconsider the relationship between land, memory, and nature. His works carry both a sense of mourning for what has been lost and a quiet hope for future possibilities.