Do you have the time?

 The Clock, Christian Marclay, 2010

If you do, check out Christian Marclay's 24 hour video piece, 'The Clock', before it ends it's run at Paula Cooper Gallery this Saturday. If you have a lot of time, go Friday for the gallery's all night screening. In the video, Marclay has pieced together hundred of clips from various films that reveal the time. Whether a character says it, a wristwatch is cut to, or a blurred grandfather clock is silently ticking away in the background, nearly every minute in the day is accounted for and at the exact same time it is in real life. So, when I entered the screening room at 10:39, on the screen a man was sitting, waiting it seemed, in his car looking at the car's clock, it ticks 10:39. In a hurry he is joined by a woman and drives off. Next clip. 10:40. An alarm clock ticks away bedside. Next clip. 10:41. 

And so on and on for every minute of the day.

In film, the clock is useful to connect the viewer to the story's timeline. Often days or weeks are squeezed into just 2 hours, so visual clues help suspend the viewer from his or her temporality. In 'The Clock', however, Marclay manipulates film to match our temporality.

And he does so almost seamlessly,

 sewing time together through subject, mood and sound: 

A character enters a bathroom in one clip, cut to a different character standing in a different bathroom her wristwatch in partial view.

A frantic time bomb in a car moment cuts to a man sweating, staring nervously at his pocket watch.

The ticking of one clock seeps into the scene of the next.

    

Marclay is known for his work with sound (I hope you all witnessed his installation at the Whitney last spring), but my first introduction to his work was a video piece of a similar vein to this one. Like this piece it has a single "inanimate" object as it's subject and title. I use quotes for inanimate because, like 'The Clock', it is actually quite active. Titled 'The Telephone', it is a series of film clips cut together of  telephones ringing and being answered. My mother owns this piece and plays it often at parties at her apartment. And, let me tell you, standing in a room with the piece for more that 5 minutes can easily drive you crazy. Don't get me wrong, it's a genius collage of film history, but the constant rings and "hellos" make you feel like you're in a office full of telephone operators (who do appear in this piece). 

What is so incredible about 'The Clock' is that it never wares on you.  When you're in Paula Cooper's quite comfortable, make-shift theater, you feel like you could watch the full 24 hours and you really want to.  Each clip hints at it's film's greater story, pulling you in then quickly releasing. 

Two friends had told me about this show and how they spent five minutes in line outside the gallery at 12:30 AM Saturday morning waiting to view the piece. I found this to be a crazy notion and decided I would simply attend a weekday morning to avoid such a thing. Which I did and there was indeed no line, though the theater was pretty full. 

After seeing it, however, I understand the desire why people might go so late. Not only is it unlikely to see the whole piece ever, it is even less likely to see it in those wee hours. Wherever the piece ends up, will probably have even less hospitable viewing hours, thus I urge you to take the opportunity this weekend to wait as long as you can stand to wait and see as much of this piece as you can stand to watch. It's just that good.   

Oh and don't forget to pee ahead of time...