The Clock

When I went to see The Clock at the Paula Cooper Gallery in Chelsea I had no idea what to expect, thanks to curator David Little’s warning not to read about it beforehand. Based on the work’s title, I was not surprised when each movie clip that appeared on the big screen had a timepiece somewhere in it. After a few of these clips I noticed that the time shown was gradually advancing, almost minute-by-minute. Around 3:03, maybe ten minutes after we entered, I looked at my own watch and the man on the couch next to me laughed. My watch also said 3:03. Two minutes later my watch said 3:05. The movie clip showed a clock that also said…3:05. The Aha! moment, which must come to every viewer sooner, rather than later, had arrived, and like I’m sure everyone before me, I smiled.
The Clock works on so many levels of enjoyment that I am labeling it an instant classic. I have no idea how it will next be displayed – the Paula Cooper gig is now up – but I have no doubt it will somehow live on for years, if not decades, to come. First is the joy of seeing so many movie clips. It is like the film montages at the Oscars, only better, if only because you get to inhabit the scenes for a longer time. First, you recognize an actor – my gosh, look how young Robert DeNiro looks! – then, if you’re a cinephile, maybe you can name the movie in the brief time it’s on display. The next pleasure is finding the timepiece – some are obvious, but sometimes it is just a wall clock in the background, or an actor’s dialogue. The amazement comes from recognizing the time that is shown. Sure, three o’clock is an obvious plot point – school gets out then, for instance. But why would any movie ever have to show the time as being 3:04? But there it is! And there is 3:07 and 3:08.
If this is all there was to Christian Marclay’s piece it would be little more than an elaborate parlor game, albeit still incredible. But what, perhaps, elevates it to the status of art is the way he has woven his excerpts together. The editing is seamless: one film blends into another; there is nothing choppy. The soundtrack helps integrate the disparate segments. But time and again he has found segues between clips, even while their minutes are consecutive. “It’s 3:15, time for a beer,” says a character in a movie from 1954 (in my made-up example); cut to a scene of a beer mug sliding down a bar in a 1970s film, and the clock in the background reads 3:16.
Moments like this leave you simultaneously gasping and smiling to yourself as you try to take it all in before it slides away and another such scene appears, with a new actor and new film to identify, a new clock to read. How long do we stay? The work goes on for 24 straight hours, and as much as I would like to see what the artist comes up with for, say 2:17 a.m., I get the general picture and know I can’t stay all day. The best I can do is hope that The Clock will somehow be made available in the future, so we can all sample it from time to time, whenever we need a dollop of pleasure in our life.

0 replies

Leave a Reply

Want to join the discussion?
Feel free to contribute!

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *