Corinne Vionnet layers hundreds of similar photographs of the same landmark to give an impression of a place we all know. Influenced by the mists of Monet and Turner, as well as early etchings of monuments, she hopes to create a portrait of collective memory.
A pretty, blue-eyed blond and a young boy say a tearful goodbye to one man, and in the next scene, leave by car with another. Border patrol, strip searches, humiliating intrusive interrogations lead to a refugee camp with more of the same.
Much of Goldin's earlier work, the work that made her name, captured the vivid atmosphere of a world of which she was a part, and which now only exists in our cultural mythology and the memories of and artistic documents created by its survivors.
When considering torture and terror, the first question of relevance is, Do we require an experience of torture and terror first hand, either as a survivor or as a witness, to be credible on the subject?
If you want to escape the auditory bombardment, there is one island of contemplative contemporary art that has just opened in an old manor house at the very heart of Avignon -- and it's the single richest private collection to arrive in France, say the promoters, in more than a century.
Suffused with longing and an acute sense of the ephemeral, there is among the gorgeous young faces and carefully arranged tableaux, a feeling that time and memory are paradoxical twins, never in synch, but always connected.
Uptown at the Walter Reade Theater on Thursday night, the vibe was decidedly downtown. The occasion: the New York Film Festival screening of director Sara Driver's film of a Paul Bowles short story, You Are Not I.