Lossless Blurs Lines Between Old, New

Dorothy’s red heels click incessantly on the screen. They close and open again and again but Dorothy doesn’t budge. But these heels are not going to bring anybody back to Oz—they’re stuck in a continuous loop. No, you’re not witnessing the result of a bad download; you’re watching “Lossless #1,” the first piece in the fall exhibition Lossless at the Carpenter Center’s Sert Gallery. Lossless is a collection of five deconstructed and digitally reworked films by artists Rebecca Baron and Douglas Goodwin. Inspired by the contemporary trend of file sharing, Baron and Goodwin altered the films by manipulating the technology behind them. Interruption of data streaming, the removal of basic information, and other digital methods allow the artists to dematerialize existing films into confusing and surprising visual commentaries. More than just a critique of file-sharing, “Lossless” offers a captivating look at the possibilities and effects of a digital culture. The alterations often lead to striking results. In “Lossless #2,” a short film created from an incomplete bit torrent download, disparate images mesh with each other. A woman sticking out her tongue becomes another woman sitting down at a table; a cushion hides a female face. Similar merging runs through “Lossless #5,” as strings of dancing girls blur into a wispy line of smoke. Such metamorphoses are startling in the black and white films; they highlight the pervasiveness of digital change. Perhaps the most arresting installation is “Lossless #3,” a highly pixilated and compressed version of John Ford’s classic Western “The Searchers.” The film contains neither plot nor dialogue, and the soundtrack mostly consists of eerie pitches that echo throughout the entire gallery. When a recognizable noise breaks through—whether it be a gunshot or a trumpet announcing the beginning of a march—the sound is surprisingly comforting. At times this coincides with violence in the movie’s remains. When cowboys rush through Native American camps, they leave behind a residue of smudged color. A teepee is gradually erased by remnants of cowboys and horses, paralleling the real devastation in the West while also maintaining a self-referential quality, reminding the viewer of the damage caused by reckless adventures in the digital realm. But this deconstruction also brings out more nuanced aspects of the film. Simplifying the image underscores the grandeur of the movements filmed; there is something epic about the way a flowing line of horses stretch across the screen, creating a continuous sienna strip. At times, the image is reminiscent of early impressionist painting—Turner comes to mind. With the loss of image clarity comes an exciting development. The works in Lossless come out of the destruction of existing film, but they may be equally viewed as forays into a new medium. The serial titles connect the installations to the exhibition and the ideas behind it, cutting them off from the films that preceded them. These installations are more than just digital destruction—they stand alone as creative works. Although the original films may be severed, distorted, and pixilated, the result is artful and provocative. These new works have a meaning of their own, separate from that of their predecessors. In the end, it is up to the viewer to decide what is lost and what is gained when new technology is applied to old films.