The first time I visited New York City in 2012, I was anxious to see the Empire State Building. I walked along Fifth Avenue from Central Park and passed by without noticing it. When I realized that I was at Thirty-first Street, I turned around, and there it was. After paying my ticket and queuing, I went to the observatory on the top floor. Images of the building began to unfold and overlay my direct experience, and my perceptual relationship with it began to change. Before, the Empire State was an idea constructed from pop culture. It was King Kong (1933, directed by Merian C. Cooper and Ernest B. Schoedsack), Empire (1964, by Andy Warhol), and many others. But, now the Empire State has a spatial reference for me. It has become part of my perceptual archive of images; my mind reconstructs it through the recollection of direct experience. [ILLUSTRATION OMITTED] The process of perceiving and giving meaning to images is a puzzling psychological exercise that enlarges with perceptual experience. Linking meaning with perception is a process of accumulation that expands and regenerates every time we encounter an image. We see images and we try to make sense of them. We seek recognition and attempt to fit them into our categories of long-term memory while dealing with our short-term memory experience of them. The mechanics of human perception combine the empirical process of experiencing the world and the mental process of assimilating what is seen. Tara Merenda Nelson's multimedia installation End of Empire (2014) enlivened my curiosity about not only the image per se, but the processes of perception as well. When I first saw the piece created in collaboration with Gordon Nelson at Visual Studies Workshop, I was struck by its particular combination of elements. The installation, the first piece of the artist's ongoing FourMats series (2014-present) is a multiformat vertical puzzle of the Kodak tower in downtown Rochester. Nelson divided the building into four parts that were each filmed simultaneously in four different formats. The first three parts of the tower are analog--shot on discontinued Ektachrome color-reversal stocks of 16mm, Super 8, and slide film--while the base of the tower is a high-definition digital video. Each portion of the tower operates as a separate entity, with different aspect ratio and physical qualities native to its format. The illusion of die tower as a single image is formed with the magnified scale and the line created between the top and bottom right corners, which connects the four distinct formats. It is undeniably the Kodak tower that the viewer confronts. The building is a core element of Rochester's skyline, a landmark of its bright economic past and prosperous industry. Outside Rochester, even when the building is unknown to the viewer, its crowing Kodak sign makes its identity clear. Kodak means film, and its tower still represents the epicenter of film production. End of Empire challenged me with moving images of the Kodak tower for the first time. My knowledge of the object resided in memory, while the installation was an immediate viewing experience. When I asked Nelson about her experiences showing the piece in other locations, she said that it was like bringing Kodak and the history of film to different spaces. Although audiences did not always know the building itself, they were always able to engage with the materiality of the piece and its symbolic references. [ILLUSTRATION OMITTED] [ILLUSTRATION OMITTED] End of Empire stands as a reflexive requiem to film and its industry as well as an homage to Warhol's Empire, filmed fifty years previously. Although a single piece, its structure is a result of contrast and opposition. By juxtaposing four different formats, Nelson unfolds their perceptual and material differences. The top of the building is constructed with the three obsolete film stocks, which exhibit the fading and scratches of celluloid's inevitable degradation with each successive screening. …
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