The Mexican Tapes and Sketches for The American Tapes
A story of immigration is not a finite moment; rather it distends over several generations and two nations. Thirty years ago, Louis Hock lived as a neighbor to undocumented Mexicans in a cluster of Southern California beach apartments. Seizing the unusual cultural opportunity, he chronicled the life and times of the community over a five year period. The outcome was an award-winning documentary in the form of four-part series of one-hour videotapes, The Mexican Tapes.
After the completion of the video series, Hock regularly saw some of his old neighbors; others he did not see again until recently. In 2004 some of the children from those families, now in their 30s and 40s, and still living in southern California (excepting one), contacted him via email, asking for fresh copies of The Mexican Tapes to show to their own children. This fortunate acknowledgement of their parents’ earlier lives initiated a year-long dialogue that ultimately prompted Hock to undertake a new work. Now, Hock’s same subjects reappear in Sketches for The American Tapes: A Tale of Immigrations, a feature-length tape. This work represents a singular chance to witness intimate reflections on how both U.S. culture and immigration continue to shape the lives of once-undocumented people and those of their children.
Feral
The voices of national security have been telling us a story of our future. It can be listened to as a tragedy or comedy, or, perhaps most frightening, both. The fluctuating yellow to orange to red alerts seem more carnival tactics than survival strategy. Should we go out and buy duct tape to seal off our homes from the threats of the world? How can we tell a jihadist from a jornalero? Is this the new century’s “Reefer Madness” scare?
Hock’s two screen video and surround sound installation grapples with this contemporary laugh or fear dilemma. The uniformed government authority, once reserved only for the “undocumented,” is now asking everyone for their papers, everywhere. A tangible and necessary new reality? Or political theater? One screen of the installation depicts the work shift of a U.S. Border Patrol agent at an inland check-point. His vigilant gaze wants us to believe he is able to discern the illegal from the legal, the terrorist from tourist, and them from us. However, the hyper-reality of this gatekeeper calls the reality of the threat into question. On the opposite screen, the unidentified objects, zooming around through a goofy-colored atmosphere, loom at us from a Godzilla-textured make-believe world. What credence should we give this "B" movie SCI-FI fantasy? Or maybe this is the real avenue of attack.
