Time to say nothing
Why do so many people hate video art? Well, possibly because it is a time-based medium: you sit for what seems a very long time indeed, in the faint hope that something might actually happen. More often than not, nothing much does.
Since one may quote a distinguished list of seminal video works in which precisely zilch happens, this is usually OK. But an exhibition that sets out to explore how various contemporary video artists examine the elusive theme of time must surely be setting itself up for a fall.
'Wow, time passes,' they seem to be saying, at least in the context in which they are shoehorned. And they're not even that excited by the fact.
What else might the message of the curators be? Time passes in a blur? Especially when you're having this much fun?
So we have two lads larking around, singing bursts of a traditional Kurdish song in front of a cash machine (local traditions retained in the face of a global, capitalist present?).
A young man walking stiffly through the streets of Bangkok, obviously conscious of the camera (how to pass the time of day convincingly?).
There's a ten-minute shot of a graveyard (time waits for no man?).
One work, by Yang Fudong, stands out because it's beautifully filmed and edited. A young woman waits and embroiders and waits, longing, it seems, for the elusive man in the white suit.
Until Jan 2, Tate Modern, Bankside SE1, Sun to Thu 10am to 6pm, Fri and Sat until 10pm, £6.50, £5 concs. Tel: 020 7887 8008. Tube: Southwark/Blackfriars
