Sample

Copyrighted material 9780230392151
Contents
List of Figures
ix
Acknowledgments
xi
Introduction
1
2
3
4
5
Alfred and the Art World
Cinephilic Pilgrimages and the Reification of

Profilmic Space
25
Activating Memories and Museums through the

Expanded Essay Film
45
Remediation and Intermediality: From Moving to

(Film) Still
67
Spatial Montage, Temporal Collage, and the Art(ifice) of

Rear Projection
91
The Acoustics of Vertigo: Soundtracks, Soundscapes,

and Scores
Conclusion
Repossessing Cinema
119
141
Appendix: List of Hitchcock Artworks Cited
155
Notes
159
Works Cited
183
Index
193
HITCHCOCK AND CONTEMPORARY ART
Copyright Christine Sprengler, 2014.

All rights reserved.
First published in 2014 by
PALGRAVE MACMILLAN
in the United Statesa division of St. Martins Press LLC,
175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.
Where this book is distributed in the UK, Europe and the rest of the world,
this is by Palgrave Macmillan, a division of Macmillan Publishers Limited,
registered in England, company number 785998, of Houndmills,
Basingstoke, Hampshire RG21 6XS.
Palgrave Macmillan is the global academic imprint of the above companies
and has companies and representatives throughout the world.
Palgrave and Macmillan are registered trademarks in the United States,
the United Kingdom, Europe and other countries.
ISBN: 9780230392151
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Sprengler, Christine.
Hitchcock and contemporary art / by Christine Sprengler.
pages cm
Includes bibliographical references and index.
ISBN 9780230392151 (alk. paper)
1. Hitchcock, Alfred, 18991980Criticism and interpretation.
2. Art, Modern21st century. I. Title.
PN1998.3.H58S69 2014
791.430233092dc23
2013040053
A catalogue record of the book is available from the British Library.

Design by Newgen Knowledge Works (P) Ltd., Chennai, India.
First edition: April 2014
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
I n t r o d uc t io n
Alfred and the Art World
n the early 1960s, Robert Whitman created a series of eight Cinema

Pieces or, film sculptures, a subgenre of that protean designation
expanded cinema. With titles such as Window (1963), Bathroom
Sink (1964), and Shower (1964), each addressed issues of realism and
illusion, conventions of representation, and the practices of viewing
associated with different media, namely, sculpture, cinema, and painting. Each did so by fusing tangible material objects with filmic images,
by pairing ordinary domestic items with footage of routine actions
associated with them. For Window, Whitman projected 16mm film of
someone gardening within the contours of a window frame mounted
on the gallery wall. In Shower, he installed an actual shower stall complete with running water and projected an image of a woman bathing. Apparently, the illusion was so convincing that several visitors
thought they had witnessed a live performance.1 However, as the film
progresses, close-ups of skin, the drain, and showerhead shatter the
believability of the rear-projected image. So, too, do moments when
the water turns to paint.
For Lynne Cooke, these gestures establish Shower as a work that
recalls traditions of nude bathers in Western painting and, more pointedly, Yves Kleins use of models as the living brushes with which
he applied his signature International Klein Blue during an infamous
1960 performance.2 Cooke suggests that these allusions are far more
pertinent to an understanding of Whitmans work than what is perhaps, for many of us, the more obvious one: Alfred Hitchcocks Psycho
(1960). And yet, it is hardly surprising that a filmed image of a woman
taking a shower, at points under a stream of red paint, whose image
is intercut with close-ups of skin and a drain, should also encourage
speculation of a Hitchcockian influence.3 In fact, Showers connection
to Psycho has become a common refrain in reviews of the works various restagings. What is more, it is a connection that happens to be
extremely productive. When approached with Psycho in mind, Shower

2
H i t ch co ck an d C on t e m p o r ar y A r t
opens up a series of specific trajectories into questions of voyeurism,

fetishism, realism, suspense, narrative, offscreen space, materiality,
phenomenology, modes of exhibition, and the extradiegetic life of
films and their iconic sequences.
This capacity for an artwork to initiate meaningful explorations
of cinematic concepts will be a key concern in the pages that follow. In particular, I want to show how contemporary artistic practices
invested in Hitchcockian cinema activate sophisticated engagements
with memory and history, time and space, as well as broader issues to
do with the cinema itself. I also want to consider cinephilia and epistemophilia as two interrelated forces motivating the production of these
artworks and examine how these forces inflect the nature of the art
objects created in response to Hitchcocks oeuvre. In short, I hope to
introduce the reader to the world of art about Hitchcock and to see
what we might learn from itabout Hitchcock in particular and the
cinema in general.
With Shower, Whitman inaugurated a rich, multifaceted, and multimedia set of artistic practices invested in the aesthetics, legacy, and
significance of Alfred Hitchcocks films. Not just broad in scope, but
also plentiful in number, these works have populated several exhibitions dedicated exclusively to this subject that were first staged in
1999 to mark Hitchcocks centenary. For example, the Museum of
Modern Art in Oxford organized Notorious: Alfred Hitchcock and
Contemporary Art, collecting works from the late 1970s to the late
1990s by artists situated in diverse traditions. Cindy Shermans
Untitled Film Stills (197780), Judith Barrys video projection,
Casual Shopper (198081), Douglas Gordons mail art project, A
Souvenir for Non-Existence (1993), and Victor Burgins photographic
installation The Bridge (1984) that brings John Everett Millaiss
Ophelia (185152) into contact with Madeleine and Marnie, speak
to the range of practices devoted to Hitchcocks filmic worlds. That
same year Oh! Hitchcock appeared at the Kunsthalle Tirol in Hall,
Austria, featuring the work of 19 international artists including
Ruth Schnell, Claudia Hart, Sam Samore, and David Falconer. The
curators of this show sought to offer visitors a cinematic experience
by transforming the space of the gallery itself with Peter Koglers
tunnel installation through which visitors had to pass and Stefan
Demarys attachment of bird silhouettes to all of the gallerys windows. Moral Hallucinations: Channelling Hitchcock at the Museum
of Contemporary Art in Sydney also opened in 1999 and featured
work by 11 contemporary Australian artists tasked with responding
to themes prevalent in Hitchcocks oeuvre.

I n t r od u ct i on
More exhibitions soon followed. In 2003, Hitch opened at the

Glasgow Print Studio and showcased still images in a range of media
by artists such as Sam Ainslie, Steven Campbell, Peter Howson, John
MacKenzie, Janice McNab, and Ray Richardson. In 2005, RePossessed
opened in London offering visitors a highly interactive experience
through a series of interrelated installations designed to activate our
engagement with Vertigo.4 In 2007, Steven Jacobs organized an exhibition in Antwerp titled The Wrong House. It featured a symposium and
screening session of Hitchcock-inspired art called The Wrong Artist:
Hitchcock and Video Art.5 Also in 2007, Solar in Portugal staged
Under Hitchcock, an exhibition of contemporary works like Johan
Grimonprezs Looking for Alfred (2005), a video about Hitchcock
himself involving a number of impersonators, and Laurent Fivets
Portrait a lcume (2007), a two-room installation devoted entirely
to Vertigos Madeleine. In 2008, the Austrian Film Museum presented
Hitchcock Experimental featuring, for example, J. Tobias Andersons
Bodega Bay School (2004), Martin Arnolds Psycho (1997), and Gregg
Biermanns Spherical Coordinates (2005).
Dominique Pani and Guy Cogevals Hitchcock and Art: Fatal
Coincidences, which showed at the Centre Pompidou and Montreal
Museum of Fine Arts in 2001, took a rather different approach. With
the aims of documenting Hitchcocks oeuvre, illustrating the artistic influences on his filmmaking practice, and evoking the profilmic
spaces of his films through select iconic props and staged settings, this
exhibition found multiple ways to unpack the relationship between
art and film, and included, as part of its program, a few contemporary
works such as Holly Kings Place of Desire (1989), Alain Fleischers
Exhibition in the North of France (1992), and Merry Alperns Untitled
#28 (1994). A somewhat less ambitious exhibition of this type traveled between film museums in Dsseldorf, Frankfurt, Munich, and
Potsdam. Obsessionen: Die Alptraum-Fabrik des Alfred Hitchcock
offered a survey of his oeuvre through clips, a full screening program,
and other forms of cinematic ephemera related to his works. In 2011,
Nicholas Haeffner, one of the curators of RePossessed, staged Shadows
of a Doubt. This exhibition featured photographs by David George
and Spencer Rowell of the East End London locations inhabited by
Hitchcock as a child to see how this geography might have shaped his
cinematic vision. Exhibitions like these featured both artistic responses
to Hitchcock and, what has been a mainstay of the exhibition circuit
for quite some time, a survey of artistic influences on his films.
Some of the artworks featured in these shows have become iconic
in their own right, appearing in the service of curatorial mandates to

4
chart the development of gallery films or illustrate a very broadly

defined cinematic impulse. They also exemplify the cinematic
turn in contemporary art. This turn, which took place during the
1990s, involved the widespread adoption by artists of cinematic technologies in the production of their work as well as the integration and
manipulation of images from film history. It was a turn made possible
by the increasing availability and affordability of digital technologies
and the rerelease of iconic films. Rhetoric too played a role. The lingering effects of the death of painting overlapped with emerging
pronouncements of the death of cinema and prompted artists to
engage questions of an ontological nature: What is cinema? What was
cinema? What will cinema be in the future? In the museum world,
artistic responses to these questions have caused concerns about transforming white cubes into black boxes as well as excitement about
the new audiences they might entice. These artistic practices have also
generated a fair bit of hyperbole. For Chris Dercon, currently the
director at Tate Modern, this recent generation of artists holds the key
to cinemas future. He argues that those working with the question
What is cinema? in the late twentieth and early twenty-first centuries have the capacity to bring cinema through to its next phase by
revealing to us what, how, and where things can be shown.6
Cinemas centenary also played a role in encouraging this cinematic turn, if not always directly in the production of art, then certainly in the organization of exhibitions designed to survey and make
known the history of the relationships between art and film. Art and
Film since 1945: Hall of Mirrors (1996) and Spellbound: Art and Film
(1996) are two notable examples of this tendency. Other later major
exhibitions invested in exposing this relationship, such as Future
Cinema: The Cinematic Imaginary after Film (2002) and Beyond
Cinema: The Art of Projection (2006), sought a balance between historical and contemporary practices and between practices that looked
to film history and ones that imagined cinemas multiple future forms.
Still others focused on the present and featured works that investigated cinematic experiences, for example, Collateral, When Art Looks
at Cinema (2007) and The Cinema Effect: Illusion, Reality and the
Moving Image (2008). And it is worth nothing that in all of these
Hitchcock has played a role.
This relationship between art and film is a long and complex one,
stretching back to the cinemas earliest years. It involves the creative
efforts of practitioners from both domains and experimental gestures
that pitted one against the other, thought one through the other, and
often blurred the distinctions between them. Connections between

art movements and film movements, art theories and film theories,
not to mention individuals who contributed in various ways to both
realms have done much to foster multiple points of contact. As part
of this early history of contact and collaboration, we might explore
Dada, Surrealism, and Constructivism as well as the writings of Walter
Benjamin, Erwin Panofsky, Rudolf Arnheim, and Sergei Eisenstein, to
name just a few.7 We might then consider Situationist and Fluxus gestures, expanded cinema, as well as countless other avant-garde practices such as structural or structural-materialist film. Beyond film, we
might look to the multimedia architecture of Charles and Ray Eames,
the filmic photography of Robert Frank and, of course, the broad
and varied works of video art since the 1960s.8 Attention also ought
to be paid to the collecting and preservational roles played by art
institutions such as the Museum of Modern Art and to shifts in gallery
practices to accommodate moving-image works.9
A survey of the connections between art and film is far beyond the
scope of thisor any singleproject.10 However, before speculating
on why artists have invested so much creative energy in Hitchcocks
films, I want to consider one more point of connection: paracinema. As an avant-garde practice, paracinema can be regarded as an
apt precursor to the works examined here. In fact, we might even label
these Hitchcockian-inspired gestures as a kind of second-generation
paracinema. First coined by Ken Jacobs in the early 1970s, the term
paracinema was reintroduced into art historical scholarship by
Jonathan Walley in 2003. It describes a neglected conceptual practice
of the 1960s and 1970s concerned primarily with the idea of cinema
and with the cinematic as a phenomenon independent of the material properties of film. In short, this practice seeks the essence of film
in the conceptual realm, not the material one. As Walley explains,
paracinema provides a way for avant-garde artists to continue to
make films by allowing them to access the conceptual dimensions of
cinema, whatever each artist thought those might be, without limiting them to the medium of film.11 Paracinematic works like Tony
Conrads film-based performances of the 1970s involving the literal
projection of food onto a screen or Anthony McCalls Long Film for
Ambient Light (1975) in which a single bulb illuminated a loft whose
windows were covered with diffusion paper, sought to answer the
question What is cinema? They did so by deconstructing the cinematic apparatus in order to examine the basic properties and effects
of its constituent parts. Projection, light, and duration were some of
the privileged objects of investigation in these practices and continue
to be the object of inquiry in some recent examples by artists like

6
Bradley Eros. In Erosion (1999), a work that also pays homage to earlier structural film practices, Eros pulls a found, water-damaged roll of
film through a projector by hand. He does so backward and forward
at an irregular speed and stops on occasion to let the celluloid burn
in the gate.12 Like Conrad and McCall, Eros isolates an aspect of the
cinema and, through acts that highlight specific operations, subjects
it to analysis.
Paracinematic works like Conrads and McCalls, especially, are
important precursors to the case studies assessed here for two reasons.
First, as a conceptual practice that aims to produce knowledge about
the cinema, paracinema poses key questions about cinemas ontology,
phenomenology, and effects. It also sets up the conditions necessary
for viewers to engage analytically with the problematics it confronts.
Second, paracinema is a type of practice that investigates the cinema,
but isnt beholden to the moving image to do so. To be sure, many
Hitchcock-inspired works do make use of the moving image, by incorporating found footage or shooting new film or video. Single-screen
and multimonitor videos, animations, and projections (and rear projections) of 16mm and 35mm film constitute a significant proportion of these works. However, there are others that employ drawing,
painting, photography, and digital imaging technologies including
video game level editors.13 Still others can be situated in the traditions of mail art, sound art, public art, and immersive and sculptural
installation. These works are significant creative interventions into
Hitchcockian filmmaking and the cinema more generally, but have
neither received attention as contributions to the cinematic turn
nor been addressed under the rubrics of gallery films or screen
arts. Thus, like paracinema, which was for a long time neglected by
both art and film history, many contemporary works about cinema
that eschew the moving image do not fit the purview of what are
quickly becoming the dominant categories of analysis.
Artistic responses to Hitchcocks filmmaking form part of this long
and complex history of exchange between the worlds of cinema and
art. Thus, while the question Why Hitchcock? may be impossible
to answer comprehensively, it nevertheless deserves some attention.14
Speculation may lead us to the visually sophisticated, detail-oriented
nature of a Hitchcock sequence that lends itself to all sorts of analyses
and creative interventions. Much has been made of the thematic and
aesthetic orientations of his films that invite such attention. For example, Erika Balsom argues that Hitchcocks penchant for doubling and
fetishizing might be part of the appeal and she shows how these tropes
have become the subject of several artistic responses to his films.15 She

also suggests that the practice of remaking Hitchcock by filmmakers

and thus his encounter through the lens of other directors, which
itself is a form of doubling, may have spurred a form of this practice
in the art world as well.16 There is certainly much about his films
that attract attention and while his worlds, character types, narrative,
and formal strategies offer an abundance of possibilities for creative
response, certain individual films stand out. Vertigo is by far the favorite among artists for a variety of reasons, as we shall soon see in the
case studies that follow.17 Rear Window (1954), North by Northwest
(1959), Psycho (1960), The Birds (1963), and Marnie (1964) attract
much attention too and round out what we might call a canon of
Hitchcock for art.18
Speculation on Hitchcocks popularity as an artistic subject may also
point to the impact of decades of cinephilic writing and the fan and
filmmaking practices that keep his achievements firmly entrenched in
the public imagination. Academic writing too is responsible for directing attention to his films. As Steven Jacobs argues, Hitchcocks work
has also developed into a true test case for almost all film historiographical and film theoretical paradigms that have become fashionable
in academia since the 1970s.19 Certainly, the reasons for this can be
located in the importance of Hitchcocks work to film history, his
lengthy career, and his contribution to the canon of films that populate countless best films lists. Part of the answer may also be found
in the availability of his work through rereleases, screening programs,
and on video, and the increasing accessibility of technologies required
to scrutinize films components. Indeed, it might be discovered in
the nature of Hitchcocks own engagements with modernism, which
find parallels in the art world, and his profound investments in art,
which are now being duly reciprocated. The self-consciousness and
self-reflexivity of his experiments with space, time, and aesthetics are
certainly of interest to artists invested in these very same strategies.
It is likely that Hitchcocks own insistence that cinema is primarily a
visual medium resonates with artists too. Some, however, may see this
as a challenge to champion the significance of sound in his work.
Hitchcocks appeal to artists may also have to do with how he
embodies many of the personal quirks and tendencies we stereotypically attribute to the mythic (male) artist-genius figuresomewhat
troubled, a bit mad, overly controlling, driven by his desires, constrained by his own artistic visions, and compelled to insinuate himself
figuratively (and in the case of Hitchcock, literally) in his work. The
extent to which these are true hardly matters. What does matter is
the perpetuation of this mythic figure and thus the entrenchment of

8
Hitchcock as not only anif not theauteur in the world of cinema

but also as an artist in the world of art. Of course, he was also a skilled
self-promoter and in a way that brought these two worlds together.
Take, for instance, his 1963 Museum of Modern Art retrospective.
This was part of a deal that the production company for The Birds
brokered with the museum, requiring the former to cover the cost of
the show in exchange for an exhibition time slot that coincided with
the release of that film.20 Hitchcock knew how to generate publicity
and how to construct himself as an image, to fine-tune a persona that
was distinctive and marketable.
A more cynical response to the question Why Hitchcock? might
point to not only such instances of self-promotion, but also a number of other interests, realities, and even fortuitous accidents of timing. We might speak of gallery mandates to draw in more visitors
through shows with popular appeal, ones that trade on Hitchcocks
fame. Many of the exhibitions featuring Hitchcock emerged around
the time of Hitchcocks centenary, which itself followed just on the
heels of cinemas centenary and, as mentioned, the flurry of art and
film exhibitions that cinemas anniversary spurred. In some ways,
these artistic investigations of cinema paved the way for even more
creative engagements with Hitchcockian film itself. What starts to
emerge here is a trail of mutually supportive endeavors that begins
with the inclusion of Hitchcockian artworks in cinemas centenary
exhibitions, prompting further artistic production along these lines,
and eventually enough to fill entire shows. In this context, reflecting on Hitchcock seemed like the natural thing to do. And, in this
context, Hitchcock was cinema. After all, they were born at the same
time, grew up together, enjoyed their heyday simultaneously, and, by
some accounts, died at roughly the same time, give or take a decade.21
Indeed, cinemas centenary was defined as much by celebration as it
was by sorrow at cinemas impending death by digital technologies or
its slower degeneration at the hands of television. In addition to this
fortuitous alignment of centenaries, the vagaries of the art market,
and its appetite for certain tendencies at certain times, can also take
credit for the veritable explosion of Hitchcockian artworks. Hitchcock
was in, his films were readily available in formats that could be tinkered with, and so too were practices of appropriation that looked
especially to the cinema in both critical and, as several scholars have
pointed out, increasingly affectionate ways.22 Unsurprisingly, this
popularity led to what we might call a case of overproduction. After
all, not all Hitchcock-inspired art advances the discourses of cinema.
In many instances, Hitchcock and his work have come to function

metonymically for classical Hollywood cinema itself, recalling in very

broad and often reductive terms a particular era of film history.
It is in the context of such uses we hear charges that these works
are now little more than products in a nostalgia economy. But however much the idea of yearning for a past that is really an invented
ideal seems retrograde, we should not dismiss nostalgia too quickly.
For nostalgia does not preclude a meaningful engagement with the
past or with our present conceptions of it. As reevaluations of Fredric
Jamesons lament that we replaced history proper with a history of
aesthetic styles reveal, nostalgic practices and forms do have the capacity to grapple with a range of concerns including time and its inscriptions, the nature of cultural memory, the relationship between past
and present, the uses of pasts both mythic and actual, and the transformation of nostalgia itself into a cultural phenomenon that can be
primarily visual, manifestly critical, and even divorced from its once
signature generation of affect.23 Nostalgia thus shares with cinephilia
a recent history of critical reevaluation that sheds light on its productive potential. They share an affection for something lost to time and
the capacity to generate attempts to revive this lost object through a
range of personal and creative gestures. As such, not all of the artistic
practices borne out of nostalgia should necessarily be charged with
the reductivism, obfuscation, or ahistoricism that was once thought to
mar nostalgia itself. Indeed, we might even suggest that in some cases
myths about Hitchcock and cinema are just as vital as truths for what
they reveal about our present moment, fears, and desires.
Whether reductive or complex, revelatory or banal, these art practices have also been determined by more than the simple availability
of Hitchcocks oeuvre, his inscription into film and cultural histories.
They have also been shaped by the nature of our access to Hitchcocks
films, not only as films in their entirety, viewed in repertory theatres
or screened at home, but also as isolated fragments encountered often
and in all sorts of venues. Psychos shower scene, for instance, has
been referenced in everything from quiz shows to cartoons, television
comedies to video games, and blockbuster films to amateur YouTube
videos. It also lends its name to an Australian punk band from the
1980s and 1990s called Shower Scene from Psycho.24 It is through such
repetition and rehearsal across the visual media landscape that iconic
sequences and images that for many define Hitchcocks films have
become familiar even to audiences who havent seen Psycho, Rear
Window, or Vertigo. These fragments of films have come to occupy
privileged positions in what Victor Burgin calls the image envelope,
registers of the already seen and already heard, the debris of films,

10
including filmic moments detached from their original contexts but

nevertheless saturated with affect and both personal and cultural significance.25 As Jean Luc Godard suggests, they are the moments that
we recollect long after memory of the films plot has faded.26
These fragments have also become privileged in artistic investigations of Hitchcocks films. Artists have excised individual characters,
settings, props, aesthetic devices, themes, and scenes from their filmic
contexts and subjected them to a range of nuanced explorations.
Many of the objects selected for treatment are ones already invested
with narrative significance by Hitchcock himself. They tend to involve
things like Norman Batess room as remediated by Palle Torssons
Evil Interiors: Psycho (2003), Marnies robbery scene as recreated
and endlessly repeated by Stan Douglass Subject to a Film: Marnie
(1989), or Madeleine herself as wanderer in Salla Tykks Zoo (2006)
and Anne Robinsons ReTurning (2005). But a fair number of these
objects of artistic scrutiny might also be described as obscurities rather
deeply embedded in the Hitchcockian universeobjects, aspects,
or moments of an idiosyncratic nature, but ones that nevertheless
hold deeply personal significance for the artists whose attention they
attracted. They have the capacity to pierce like a Barthesian punctum
and share certain qualities with Burgins sequence-image, that is,
an image with the psychical intensity of a screen memory, something
constituted by perceptions and recollections, and associated with
past affects and meanings.27 John Baldessaris Tetrad Series (1999)
and David Reeds installations, Judys Bedroom (1992) and Scotties
Bedroom (1994), bear the hallmarks of such an approach.
In speculating on Why Hitchcock?, Ive considered what it is
about Hitchcocks films that attract attention and also very briefly the
tendencies of the broader art-world context that led to their inclusion
in curatorial programs designed to survey the connections between
art and film. What remains missing from this answer is a consideration
of what motivates artists to engage Hitchcock in the first place. It is
not my aim here to spell out in any detail the intentions behind these
works, to deal with the specificities of how and why artists performed
certain creative gestures in the ways they did. While I believe that
an approach that balances a consideration of the aims of the artist
with what the artwork accomplishes, enables, and generates in the
world is probably best in most cases, Im inclined to agree with Cindy
Bernards thoughts on this issue. She writes, Im one of the people
who subscribes to the idea that once I put the work on the wall, I
might as well be dead, and the work is going to be read through the
lexicon of the person looking at it. What they choose to get from the

11
work is kind of up to them, and if the work is captivating enough,

theyll do a little work and find out what I intended.28 In fact, it
is less an issue of intention per sethough, where warranted, I will
appeal to it in the case studies that followthan it is of identifying
what appear to be the general impulses that motivate artists to set
their sights on Hitchcock.
In the realm of Hitchcock-inspired art, the two primary general
impulses are cinephilia and epistemophiliaa love of the cinema and
a love of knowledge, respectively. Indeed most of the artistic practices
surveyed for this study appear to have been motivated by the former
in a way that is invigorated by the latter. It often seems that one leads
directly to the other. A love of cinema encourages attempts to learn
more about the object of ones affection, prompting efforts to understand how it works, its effects, or the nature of its constituent parts.
That is, cinephilia becomes charged by epistemophilia. Conversely,
the more one seeks to know about an object, the deeper ones appreciation for, or connection to, that object of study. Of this tendency,
we might say that epistemophilia develops into cinephilia. Even in
instances where art practices do not appear to have been produced
out of either, they nevertheless have the capacity to engage cinephilia
and epistemophilia as concepts. That is, they interrogate the nature of
cinephilia or the ways in which art gives us insight into film. My reason for introducing cinephilia and epistemophilia as motivating forces
behind these art practices has do with what I believe is their direct
impact on what these artworks in turn produce: meaningful engagements with Hitchcock, cinema, and all that circulates around cinema
as a practice and experience. For although my main goal here is to give
the reader a sense of the many and varied artistic gestures that have
targeted Hitchcocks films over last few decades, I also want to argue
for the capacity of these gestures to contribute to our understanding
of film, to add insight to aesthetic, historical, and even theoretical
discourses on the cinema. But before detailing how artworks about
Hitchcock might accomplish such feats, I want to say a little more
about cinephilia and epistemophilia themselves such that we might
better recognize their impact in the case studies that follow.
From Cinema Journals In Focus section published in 2010
to a series of monographs and edited collections by both new and
established film scholars, the topic of cinephilia has enjoyed a fair
bit of attention over the past decade. Christian Keathleys evaluation
of cinephiliac moments and their revelatory potential, Thomas
Elsaessers cinephilia take two and its implication in contemporary
reconfigurations of memory, and Laura Mulveys cinema of delay

12
and its production of new forms of spectatorship have opened up

rich discussions on the subject of cinephilia.29 Perhaps unsurprisingly,
these authors often describe their appraisals of cinephilia as responses
to the confluence of two key events at the end of the last century:
cinemas centenary and the rise of digital technologies. (For the
purposes of this discussion, we can also add Hitchcocks centenary.)
Coupled with enduring investments in history, affect, and ontology
in film studies as well as various neighboring disciplines such as art
history, these forces have generated an environment in which our
thoughts might naturally turn to how, why, and in what ways we love
the cinema.
Even a cursory inspection of cinephilia reveals its multiple forms
and the richness and diversity of its many expressions. Recent research
has also uncovered its varied history, privileged moments, defining features, and speculated on its possible futures. It has identified
its stages and assessed the significance and value of what cinephilic
energies produce. By entering into debates about the impact of new
technologies and what constitutes a cinephilic object, scholars on
the subject have also done much to complicate our understanding of
cinema itself. Yet, beyond a general consensus borne out of the reasonably simple etymological equation that cinephilia equals a love of
cinema, another point of general consensus seems to have emerged.
That is that cinephilia produces something else. Cinephilia does not
end with the experience or feeling of love for the cinema, but compels
us to act in some way.
For the most part, this act takes written form. In Paul Willemens
view, for instance, it is as if cinephilia demands a gestural outlet in
writing. It is a demand, he says, that stems from a kind of excess
produced by the cinephilic experience, an energy that needs to be
expended through an an extra, physical ritual, a gesture.30 For some,
this kind of writingand especially that which defined the writings of
the Cahiers du Cinema critics during that publications golden age
amounts to a creative act of substitution no less important than the
films themselves.31 Since the 1970s, new technologies have led to the
proliferation of new ways of taking part in cinephilic discourse, new
sites of dissemination and circulation and, of course, new practices as
well. According to Elsaesser, the relative ease with which cinephiles
can now own the objects of their affection has transformed them into
archivists and collectors and thus transformed the experience of cinephilia from one intimately connected to the experience of going to the
theater to one defined by repeat viewing in any number of contexts
and through a variety of media platforms.32

13
It is important to remember that some of these features of contemporary cinephilia have antecedents in much older fan practices. As
Mulvey reminds us, since its earliest moments the film industry has
given its fans things to hold ontothings to possess; a way to hold on
to the elusive, fleeting image of cinema.33 But these things to hold
onto are expanding, not just in quantity, but also in kind and use.
The film industry provides us with countless ways to deepen our connection to films and their stars through merchandising, conventions,
online forums, or the supplementary experiences afforded by video
game tie-ins, for example. Whether cinephiles choose to participate
in industry-sanctioned practices or create their own alternative forms
of engagement, these acts themselves are starting to gain attention as
forms of reception and, quite crucially, forms of creative production.
But as we shall see, in many cases these cinephilia-inspired acts are
also often aligned with or charged by epistemophilia. Epistemophilia
is defined by an intellectual curiosity, one motivated by a desire to
know and one that produces pleasure from knowledge gained. It has
its origins in Freudian psychoanalysis and is a term derived from James
Stracheys translation of the German word Wisstrieb.34 Freud theorized the epistemophilic instinct as a drive for knowledge closely
tied to scopophilia and the childs curiosity about sexuality. As Peta
Cox explains, it is a complex drive which functions both to relieve
negative affect, typically anxiety, and excite pleasure in learning and
knowing.35 It is a drive with multiple expressions and with both
constructive and destructive tendencies that have since become the
subject of debate in feminist research. While some scholars focus on
epistemophilias pathological dimensions like its link to the drive for
mastery or epistemophiles disregard for the welfare of those around
them while engaged in their quests, others, like Cox, consider creative
and productive expressions of the drive in terms of feminist pedagogy,
specifically in the achievement of a balance between psychic strength
and psychic safety in the student.36 In film theory, its imbrication with
scopophilia has been noted in theorizations of spectatorship as in
Mary Ann Doanes work on the femme fatale.37 In Mulveys writings,
it plays a role in her theorization of the aesthetics of curiosity and specifically a feminist curiosity as constitutive of a political, critical, and
creative drive. She also explores this drive and the space it crafts for an
active investigative look associated with the feminine and as a way to
complicate her earlier arguments about the gaze.38
I plan to appeal to this more positive evaluation of epistemophilia
and to focus on what it has the capacity to effect and produce as a
motivating force in art practice. And while I want to preserve the idea

14
that epistemophilia functions like a drive and, as such, compels us to

act, to investigate, decipher, and seek out knowledge, I do not intend
to make much recourse to its Freudian roots. Instead, I wish to see it
in broader cultural terms, to use it in the way Henry Jenkins does. For
instance, Jenkins talks about how The Matrix (1999), with its endless
borrowings . . . [and] layers upon layers of references catalyze and sustain our epistemophilia; these gaps and excesses provide openings for
many different knowledge communities that spring up around these
cult movies to display their expertise, dig deep into their libraries,
and bring their minds to bear on a text that promises a bottomless
pit of secrets.39 In fact, there are strong affinities between the fan
practices that Jenkins discusses and the art practices at issue here, in
terms of motivation and their capacity to lead to creative forms of
production. Moreover, the epistemophilia driving fan practices and
art practices actually necessitates some distancing from its psychoanalytic origins because, in both cases, a strong corollary of the drive is
the aim of communicating newfound knowledge to others. In fan
culture, collective efforts help create and sustain online communities.
Information gleaned about favorite films is shared through blogs and
secrets uncovered are instantly posted to websites or other forums.
Of course, artworks too are made for audiences to be experienced,
enjoyed, debated, and contemplated. As such, in fandom and art, the
epistemophilic quest does not end with the acquisition of knowledge,
but the sharing of it with others. Herein lies one of the most productive aspects of epistemophilia.
If epistemophilia-driven art practices inflict any harm, it may be, for
some, to the original films themselves. Any intervention that changes
an aspect of the original could be perceived as a compromise to its
integrity, if not an act of violence. Even artistic gestures that aim to
exalt an image or isolate a sequence for analysis break the toy, as
Robert Burgoyne (quoting Christian Metz) suggests. In the process,
these works manage to convert the mystery and fascination of the
cinema into something else.40 For Metz, this something else might be
the fetishism of the collector or the sadistic voyeurism of the expert
or theorist. For Burgoyne, however, this something else is much more
productive. When Douglas Gordon breaks the toy (the toy being
Hitchcocks Psycho or Fords The Searchers [1956]) by slowing them
down, he does so in order to rethink the basic illusion of stillness
and motion.41 In the process, Gordon reflects on cultural memory,
the illusionistic nature of cinema, the material quality of film, and the
basis of film in still photography, among other things.42 Furthermore,
according to Burgoyne, the return to the sources of the medium

15
itself and to its fundamental mechanisms of fascination draws the cinephilia of artists such as Gordon into a kind of artistic dialogue with
film history and film theory alike.43
With 24 Hour Psycho (1993), for example, it is not just cinephilia
that is drawn into this dialogue. Through this work, Gordon makes
a meaningful contribution to these discourses and initiates dialogue
about and within film history and film theory. Perhaps the best known
of all Hitchcock-related artworks, 24 Hour Psycho projects the film
at two frames per second on a screen, typically suspended above the
viewer, and thus stretches the films running time to 24 hours.44
Gordons work reduces Hitchcocks film to a series of stills without
the accompaniment of sound. In many ways, it is a simple gesture:
he screens an extreme slow motion version of Psycho in an art gallery.
And yet, it is a gesture borne out of a desire to know more about its
object and one that has, in turn, encouraged in-depth and sustained
responses from critics, journalists, curators, historians, and theorists.
As expected, they describe the work and their experience of it, offering interpretations of its meaning and significance. They also, quite
crucially, talk about the capacity the work has to teach us about Psycho,
Hitchcock and, often, cinema and cultural memory more broadly.
Commentators like Mulvey, Burgoyne, and Philip Monk reveal how
Gordons work initiates productive ways to think about and understand stillness, slowness, suspense, narrative, practices of representation, and practices of viewing both art and film.45 They detail for us
the insights about cinema that one might glean from engaging with
24 Hour Psycho, from pursuing the searching philosophical questions
it poses about time and space, cultural memory and its articulations
in the present.
The idea that we might learn something about cinema from
Gordons 24 Hour Psycho has even entered the realm of literary fiction
and in a way that further confirms the growing cultural, if not iconic,
status of the work. It plays a prominent role in Don DeLillos Point
Omega as the object of an almost perverse fascination for an unnamed
spectator in the first and final chapters of the book.46 Through an
anonymous spectator, who we later assume to be the elusive Dennis,
DeLillo devotes nearly a third of his novel to an analysis of the work.
He describes this spectators encounter of it in a gallery space traversed
by other visitors, the impact of the stilled images on his thoughts about
time, and how an array of ideas involving science and philosophy and
nameless other things flow out of even the briefest of sequences.47 It
is the nature of Gordons intervention into Psycho that produces for
this character a chance to see whats here, finally to look and to know

16
youre looking.48 It prompts him to reflect on voyeurism itself, his

own, that of the museum guards and other spectators, and, certainly,
that of Norman Bates. It permits him to feel time passing, to be alive
to what is happening in the smallest registers of motion, to experience pure film, pure time.49 It even gives him the sensation that
the film is thinking into him, spilling through him like some kind of
runaway brain fluid.50 For this character, who we come to suspect is a
killer, 24 Hour Psycho proffers an experience so inexorably real that he
commits his own Hitchcockian murder. Thus, for spectators both real
and fictional, Gordons cinephilia-driven and epistemophilia-charged
interventions into Hitchcocks Psycho have yielded compelling insights
into the nature of cinema and its effects.
To suggest that art teaches us something is not a radical notion.
Arts faculty for generating knowledge has been recognized in very
general terms and its edifying potential the subject of philosophical
debate in aesthetics for centuries. Questions about arts capacity to
improve us in some way, to drive us to political action, or help us
better understand our world have emerged in a variety of iterations
throughout the history of art. More recently, these questions have
been taken up by those reflecting on the idea of art as research, art
as theory, and art as knowledge.51 In particular, we might start with
Hubert Damischs ideas around art and what he calls the theoretical
object. Damisch explains,
a theoretical object is something that obliges one to do theory. Second,
its an object that obliges you to do theory but also furnishes you with
the means of doing it. Thus, if you agree to accept it on theoretical
terms, it will produce effects around itself . . . Third, its a theoretical
object because it forces us to ask ourselves what theory is. It is posed
in theoretical terms; it produces theory; and it necessitates a reflection
on theory. But I never pronounce the word theory without also saying
the word history. Which is to say that for me such an object is always a
theoretico-historical object.52
A theoretical object can be an element of painting such as a cloud,

which, for Damisch, is emblematic of pictoriality itself. The cloud also
happens to be an object that complicates yet another paradigm ostensibly invented by painting, namely, perspective. As signifiers, clouds
open up a series of theoretical questions about perspective as a representational device, not to mention space and place, more generally,
and they do so because of their often complex uses in the history of
painting.53

17
Permutations of these ideas can be found in the work of Ernst van

Alphen who convincingly shows us how an artwork might practice
cultural philosophy by functioning as a historical agent rather than
historical product.54 Art, for van Alphen, has successfully intervened in our thinking, imagining, and representing such key aspects
of human existence as individuality, identity, and space.55 It has the
capacity to undertake philosophical projects, to explore the cultural
issues that occupy our thoughts, and to make very real contributions to how ideas (around individualism, for example) take hold and
develop. In fact, van Alphen argues that art does more than simply
contribute to existing discourses; it can transform the ways in which
cultural issues are being conceived.56
Mieke Bal too shares Damischs belief in the power of art to function
theoretically. In her section on Images in Travelling Concepts in the
Humanities: A Rough Guide, Bal writes that theory is not an instrument of analysis, to be applied to the art object supposedly serving it
but in fact subjecting it. Instead it is a discourse that can be brought
to bear on the object at the same time as the object can be brought
to bear on it.57 For her, the capacity for artworks to exist as theoretical objects speaks in more general terms to an artworks capacity
to behave in a conceptually self-reflexive way, to offer and articulate
thought about art and indeed, as she also argues, to think.58 Bal
proposes that if visual art makes any sense at all beyond the narrow
domain of beauty and the affective domain of pleasure, it is because
art, too, thinks; it is thought. This thought is neither something
generated in response to an artistic gesture, nor does it refer to an idea
or narrative made manifest through visual form. Instead, it is visual
thought, the thought embodied in form.59
Expansions of these ideas by scholars like Giovanni Careri who makes
a case for the Sistine Chapel as theoretical object and Jill Bennett
who pursues Bals arguments about how such objects co-perform
analysis are particularly relevant for this project.60 Bennetts approach
is especially compelling because of the way in which she looks to contemporary art practices that function as a type of cultural studies
without words and for the questions she asks in response to Bals
proclamation that art thinks. Specifically, what is the product of
this thought? How is it accessed and used? By looking at the work
of Gabriel Orozco, Candice Breitz, and Douglas Gordon, Bennett
argues that such practices operat(e) at the intersection of different
discourses, practices and aesthetics [and] . . . constitute an intermedial
space through which new ways of seeing and new terms for analysis
can emerge.61 Her focus on what she calls intermedial aesthetics

18
as something generated by works existing between media speaks in

many ways to the practices considered in this book and will be further
examined later.
In addition to exploring these ideas about arts role in the production of knowledge, Id also like to particularize them in a way
that speaks more directly to the case studies at issue here. That is,
I plan to focus on how art practices might enrich a particular set of
discourses, themes, concepts or practices related to film and film studies, namely the cinephilic pilgrimage and profilmic space; the essay
film, its expanded forms, and relations with memory and museal
space; remediation, intermediality and the film still; spatial montage,
temporal collage and rear projection; and sound in terms of filmic
soundtracks and scores. More generally, I want to make a case for the
importance of mining cinephilia-driven (and epistemophilia-charged)
works for what they contribute to what we know and how we think
about cinema.
Chapter 1, Cinephilic Pilgrimages and the Reification of Profilmic
Space, extends the discussion about cinephilia initiated here by looking at art practices that involve cinephilic pilgrimages. It focuses on
David Reeds travels throughout the San Francisco of Vertigo and his
attempt to reify the profilmic spaces of Scottie and Judys bedrooms
through his large-scale, multimedia installations called Judys Bedroom
(1992) and Scotties Bedroom (1994). By doing so, he forces us to confront the limits of acts of reification borne out of a cinephilic impulse
and the phenomenological distinctions between the different ways in
which Hitchcocks films are experiencedin memory, on television,
in fragments, and materially in an art gallery. I also consider Cindy
Bernards Ask the Dust: Vertigo 1958/1990 (1990) and Ask the Dust:
North by Northwest 1959/1990 (1990), parts of her photoconceptualist project to find and document iconic filmic sites, and Douglas
Gordons public artwork Empire (1998), installed in a Glasgow
laneway for the cinephilic pilgrim. All three works are deeply invested
in questions about the cinema in relation to memory and place. They
also constitute cinephilic and epistemophilic gestures with the capacity to generate both affective and analytical pleasures.
Chapter 2, Activating Memories and Museums through the
Expanded Essay Film, explores a cinematic form that, at its core, is
invested in generating knowledge about its subject. I begin with a discussion of the essay film and make brief mention of two landmarks of
the genre, ones driven by cinephilia and deeply invested in making
claims about Hitchcockian cinema, namely, Chris Markers Sans Soleil
(1983) and Jean Luc Godards Histoire(s) du Cinma (198898).

19
I then define what Im calling an expanded essay film by appealing

to certain strands in the tradition of expanded cinema and bringing
them to bear on conceptualizations of the essay film. My primary case
study, Christoph Girardet and Matthias Mllers The Phoenix Tapes
(1999) presents an excellent opportunity to see how the expanded
form of this essay film functions differently, but no less critically, than
its single screen version. In particular, I explore the ways in which the
expanded version activates space and memory as well as confronts the
process of musealization, that is, how museological operations have
become the purview of other cultural practices including the cinema.
Chapter 3, Remediation and Intermediality: From Moving to
(Film) Still, begins with a series of painterly remediations by Aurlie
Bauer, Isabelle Inghilleri, and Bertrand Giraudeau that, through
engagement with other image practices related to the cinema, raise
issues of an intermedial nature. For my primary case studies, I shift
to the digital remediations enacted by Palle Torssons Evil Interiors:
Psycho (2003), which generates a still of the film using a video game
level editor, and Cindy Bernards Location Proposal #2 (19972001),
which projects images extracted from a digital model of Vertigos
Muir Woods. In all cases, the images generated by these artists
are still and, as such, the film still as a historical and conceptual
object enters the fray. I also spend time with the curious evacuation of
the human presence in Torsson and Bernards work, an erasure that
returns us to cinephilia.
Chapter 4, Spatial Montage, Temporal Collage, and the Art(ifice)
of Rear Projection, looks at art practices that collapse, overlay, or
juxtapose within a single frame or installation space multiple images
or image planes, not only ones extracted from Hitchcocks films but
also created anew. I first make note of the various forms that spatial montage and temporal collage can take by looking at J. Tobias
Andersons Nine Piece Rope (2002), Les LeVeques 2 Spellbound
(1999) and 4 Vertigo (2000), and Laurent Fivets Continuations of
Hitchcock (200310) as well as briefly consider superimposition in Jim
Campbells Illuminated Average #1: Hitchcocks Psycho (2000) and
Christopher Draegers Schizo (Redux) (2004). However, the majority
of this chapter is dedicated to two works that are not explicit engagements with Hitchcock, namely, Mark Lewiss Rear Projection: Molly
Parker (2006) and Nathan Phillips Square, A Winters Night, Skating
(2009). Although Lewiss films are not concerned with Hitchcock
per se, they are cinephilically driven and epistemophilically charged
explorations of rear projection, an outmoded technology now closely
aligned with and often defined with recourse to Hitchcock. They also

20
intersect with Hitchcockian cinema on a number of other fronts that

open up productive discussions about Hitchcocks relation to certain
moments in the history of art. Lewiss films are sophisticated interventions into the cinema and the modernity of its expressions, but as a
consequence, they also happen to shed light on some of Hitchcocks
own complex cinematic image constructions. As such, this chapter
is also about the capacity for discourses around art practices to initiate approaches to a subject that the works themselves do not directly
engage.
Chapter 5, The Acoustics of Vertigo: Soundscapes, Soundtracks,
and Scores, considers the ways in which art practices might contribute to our understanding of sound in film and especially its uses in
Hitchcock. With brief reference to works predicated on what Peter
Wollen calls a mismatch between sound and image, including Les
LeVeques 4 Vertigo, Gregory Chatonskys Vertigo@home (2007), and
Rea Tajiris Hitchcock Trilogy (1987), I hope to set the stage for thinking about how cinematic sounds cue memory and structure experience. I then turn to Christian Marclays Vertigo: Soundtrack for an
Exhibition (1990) and Douglas Gordons Feature Film (1999) to
consider sound in relation to space and sound in relation to sight
and the image. These are complex, multifaceted works that investigate cinematic sounds and cinema itself in sophisticated ways, targeting an important dimension of Hitchcocks filmmaking practice often
overshadowed by the (unsurprising) focus on the visual in his films.
As such, they permit us to recognize the vanguard contributions by
artists to an area of Hitchcock studies that its proponents claim still
suffers from neglect.
The body of artworks that respond to Hitchcock is vast, spanning
decades of production, a range of artistic media, and movements. And
although this study is a survey in some respects, it is far from comprehensive. Each chapter provides several examples of practices aligned
with the larger problematic at issue, but privileges one or two works
to allow for greater depth of analysis. It is through these more detailed
readings of the works that I hope to make a case for their value to
our efforts at understanding Hitchcock, his work and legacy, and the
cinema itself in its past and possible future forms. There are other
omissions too that should be acknowledged from the start. This is not
a study of Hitchcocks films except insofar as the artists considered
direct us to certain elements of his cinema. As such, my engagement
with Hitchcocks oeuvre is piecemeal, fragmented, and outside the
logic of more conventional film analyses that rightfully speak to that
which is prevalent, structuring, or defining of his films. This is also

21
not a study that deals with works that can be interpreted as alluding
to Hitchcock. With the exception of Mark Lewiss films, all works
selected are by artists who set out to deal with Hitchcock directly.
Nor does this study provide a complete picture of the most popular
works about Hitchcock. Although I discuss Girardet and Mllers The
Phoenix Tapes, my attention to 24 Hour Psycho is limited and I all but
neglect others in a quickly forming canon, including Grimonprezs
Double Take (2009), Pierre Huyghes Remake (199495), Shermans
Untitled Film Stills, or Douglass Subject to a Film: Marnie. Instead,
I aim to bring to light practices not that well known, even obscure in
some cases, and to represent a wide range of aesthetic and conceptual
investments. Lastly, this book is also not about art in Hitchcock, a vast
subject in its own right and one impressively detailed in several excellent books and articles.62
As such, these chapters survey only a selection of the many ways
in which artists have dismantled Hitchcocks films, transformed and
retooled them, nearly beyond recognition in some instances.63 But
the selections here are ones that cut deep into the visual and narrative
fabric of his oeuvre to extract that which these artists find compelling
or confounding. And while exceptionally varied in certain respects,
artistic practices motivated by cinephilia and epistemophilia do share
some characteristics, chief among them a conceptual, if not theoretical, sophistication. They are often guided by a desire to understand
as fully as possible their object of inquiry. In some cases, it is not the
artists initial cinephilic reverie that is celebrated or made available
to viewers, but rather knowledge about cinema gleaned from taking
the film or its images apart. As such, it is not just aesthetic or affective pleasures that these works afford, but deeply analytical ones and
in ways that encourage spectators to share in the epistemophilia that
spurred their creation.
This capacity for artistic gestures borne out of cinephilia and epistemophilia to offer us something of value has been noted by the few
scholars who consider cinephilia in the context of contemporary art
production. For instance, according to Burgoyne, the artist-cinephile
models for us ways of customizing industrially produced pleasures,
reconfiguring, in a personal and illuminating way, the objects of visual
culture.64 That is, these artists show us ways to transform the films
we love into objects that become our own, into souvenirs of a sort that
register our willingness to creatively invest our time and efforts. Others,
like Annette Michelson, draw our attention to the highly productive nature of these practices and the oppositional and transgressive
impulses that drive these artists.65 In these instances, epistemophilia

22
may be the stronger of the two motivating forces and the result a work
that incisively dtourns its object. However, as we will see, cinephilia
and critique are not mutually exclusive, but can happily coexist, a sentiment also expressed by Federico Windhausen.66 For Windhausen,
the artist-cinephile operates like a cultural historian, someone with
the tools to perform cultural critique. And while this cultural historian
might take the film apart, she also performs a preservational function
by keeping the film alive in the cultural imagination. Interventions
by these artist-cinephiles confirm that the importance and meaningfulness of Hitchcocks films have not diminished since their release
and, given the broad audiences for exhibitions that feature these practices, it also confirms that our fascination with Hitchcock has not been
exhausted. Instead, these acts suggest that much remains to be gained
from continued creative interventions into Hitchcocks work.
What we find in this body of artistic work is indeed a kind of cultural studies without words or the practice of cultural philosophy.
We find thought embodied but accessible, thought that determinedly reaches outside its object to engage those who come across it.
Such thought is not fixed or immutable. Nor is it necessarily didactic.
In the examples at issue here, it is thought of an inquiring kind. It is
searching and encouraging of dialogue about time and space, history
and memory. These works can provide us with new ways into a film
out of which new or alternate histories and analyses can be written.
Many of these works exist as a form of metacinema with the capacity
to raise philosophical questions about the cinema itselfits past, present, and future forms, expressions, uses, effects, and affects.
The case studies considered here also reveal that even practices
inspired by love, and thus what is perhaps the most uncritical of
impulses, still have much to teach us. Specifically, they teach us about
Hitchcocks films, his cinematographic strategies and experimental
tendencies, the cinema he has come to represent, classical Hollywood,
and the forces of modernism. They teach us about relationships
between fact and fiction, the real and artifice, and space or place and
time. They teach us about cinemas relations with other media like
painting, drawing, and video games and related practices like storyboarding and the creation of film stills. They teach us about cinematic
technologies like rear projection and components like sound. They
teach us about how we watch film, how we might engage with film,
what we can do with film, the ways in which cinema works and works
on us. They teach us that however subjective, idiosyncratic, or nostalgic the art practice may be, it can still offer critical insights. And however much such art practices might represent the broader cinematic

23
art tendencies often lamented for their allusive or merely celebratory

approach, many nevertheless have the potential to issue acute analyses of their subject. They teach us about the significance of the sites
in which film is encountered from the gallery to the museum to the
home or even en route through mobile technologies. They teach us
about the histories of film and the histories of other cultural forms
with which it is entwined. Finally, they teach us that while we are busy
trying to speculate on cinemas future and what cinema means to us
in the present, we still might not grasp cinemas past as firmly as we
should.
Index
Notes: Titles of works in italics refer to films unless a gloss indicates

otherwise, for example, (book) or (exhibition).
Locators in boldface indicate a page with illustration(s).
24 Hour Psycho, 1516, 162n44
2 Spellbound, 934, 94
4 Vertigo, 936, 95, 124
Accumulating Psycho (video), 97
action stills, 84
Algonquin Park, Early March,
10911
Algonquin Park, September, 11011
algorithms, 956, 124
Alter, Nora, 47, 168n22, 168n27
Anderson, J. Tobias, 93
appropriation, 289, 76, 10910,
1235, 128, 137. See also
footage, found; intermedia and
intermediality
art and artistic objects/practices, 4,
76. See also exhibition practices;
objects in art and film
epistemophilia-driven, 14
influence of/on Hitchcock. See
Hitchcock, Alfred
sound in film and. See sound in film
as teaching devices, 223
as theoretical objects, 1617,
163n51
art and film, 46, 10, 38, 68, 74,
76, 142, 1512. See also essay
films; remediation
exhibitions, 24, 1415. See also
installation art
multisensory experiences, 1301,

179n34
Art and Film since 1945: Hall of
Mirrors (exhibition), 132
art exhibitions. See exhibition
practices; under individual names
art institutions. See gallery spaces;
museal spaces; under individual
names
Arthur, Paul, 489, 51
artifice, 78, 1256, 135. See also
special effects
artists, 4, 711, 69. See also under
individual names
Ask the Dust: North by Northwest
1959/1990 (photographic
series), 2630, 28
Ask the Dust: Vertigo 1958/1990
(photographic series),
2630, 28
Atlantis Gallery, 134, 141
The Atomists (photography/painting
series), 74
audiences for art and film. See
spectators and spectatorship;
viewers/visitors
authors and authorial presence, 48, 51
back projection(s). See rear
projection(s)
Bal, Mieke, 17, 76, 1412

194
Index
Baldessari, John, 59, 612, 64

Balsom, Erika, 67, 174n17
Bauer, Aurlie, 6971, 725
Bedroom, 54, 56
Bellour, Raymond, 134
Bennett, Jill, 1718, 746, 78
Bernard, Cindy, 1011, 2630, 28,
769, 83, 171n25
Bernard Herrmanns Vertigo: A
Film Score Handbook (book),
1201
Bernstrup, Tobias, 79
The Birds, 71, 103, 170n8
Birtwistle, Andy, 136, 138
black boxes, 78, 142, 171n24
Blind Televisions (installation), 133
Boat on the Elbe in the Early Fog
(painting), 110
Bolter, Jay David, 723
Boyle, Robert, 1023
Brown, Royal S., 138
Bruegel, Pieter (the Elder), 110
bullshots, 85, 173n42
Burden of Proof, 56, 59
Burgin, Victor, 38
Burgoyne, Robert, 1415, 21
camera and camera movement, 30,
10811, 115. See also illusion
and disillusion; look (in film or
painting); zoom
Campany, David, 100
Campbell, Jim, 97
Carlotta (Valdez) of Vertigo, 121
Cary Grant (painting), 734
Chatonsky, Gregory, 125
cinema. See films
cinema and art. See art and film
Cinema Pieces, 1
cinematic impulse/turn, 4
cinematic spaces, 58, 88. See also
space/spaces
cinematographic strategies, 1089.
See also digital images and
digital imagery technology;
special effects
cinephiles and cinephilia, 9, 1113,

18, 212, 335, 88, 138. See
also Lewis, Mark; RePossessed
(exhibition): ReFramed 1
. . . inVertEgo; RePossessed
(exhibition): ReViewed
epistemophilia and, 35. See also
The Phoenix Tapes (expanded
essay film)
photography and, 68, 74
pilgrimages and, 257, 2930,
41, 125
spectators and, 16, 86, 1512.
See also Elsaesser, Thomas;
Mulvey, Laura
Circulations (installation), 98
collages, temporal, 19, 912, 109,
11213, 117
computer games. See video games
Conlon, James, 1336
Continuations of Hitchcock
(installation series), 978
Cooke, Lynne, 1
Cooper, David, 1201
Corrigan, Timothy, 47, 51
Cox, Peta, 13
C-prints, 389
cultural studies, 75
Cunningham, Douglas, 2930,
345
curatorial practices/strategies,
1413
Damisch, Hubert, 16
DeLillo, Don, 15
Derailed, 54, 56
Dercon, Chris, 4
Dickinson, Greg, 166n29
digital images and digital imagery
technology, 12, 723, 769,
845, 148, 151
Doherty, Brian, 142
dolly zoom, 108
doubling of images, 934, 173n3
Draeger, Christoph, 97
Dutch painters, 97

Index
Eisenstein, Sergei, 122
Eisentraut, Jochen, 121
Elsaesser, Thomas, 1112
Empire, 3942
ensembles. See Reed, David
epistemophilia, 11, 1314, 1618,
212, 138. See also Lewis,
Mark; RePossessed (exhibition):
ReFramed 1 . . . inVertEgo;
RePossessed (exhibition):
ReViewed
cinephilia and, 35. See also The
Phoenix Tapes (expanded essay
film)
spectators and spectatorship and,
152
Eros, Bradley, 6
essay films, 1819, 4552, 167n3,
168n27. See also The Phoenix
Tapes (expanded essay film)
expanded, 46, 512
filmmakers and spectators, 48
musealization and, 63
Evil Interiors (digital images series),
809
Evil Interiors: Psycho (digital image),
81, 846, 889
exhibition practices, 1413. See also
gallery spaces; installation art
expanded cinema, 456, 512. See
also essay films
Export, Valie, 52
eye tracking, 149
fan culture and practices, 14, 74, 82,
172n31. See also spectators and
spectatorship; viewers/visitors
Farocki, Harun, 456, 167n3
Feature Film (book), 136, 180n42
Feature Film (exhibition), 1338, 141
Fibicher, Bernard, 111
Fivet, Laurent, 978
film/films, 46, 810, 102. See also
art and film; expanded cinema;
paracinema; under individual
titles
195
appropriation and remaking.

See appropriation
consumption of, 1456, 180n42
essay. See essay films
history, 8, 50
musealization and. See museal
spaces
sound effects and soundtracks.
See sound in film
video games and, 87, 148,
173n43
film stills, 456, 86, 166n31,
172n34
relation to moving images,
835, 148
repurposing of, 88
filmmakers, 48. See also under
individual names
first-person shooter games,
7980, 87
Fluxus movement. See sound art/
sound in art
Fog (painting), 110
Foley artists, 1256
footage, found, 49, 53, 64, 123,
149. See also The Phoenix Tapes
(expanded essay film); Torn
Curtain: Endless Beginnings
Fowler, Catherine, 489
frame enlargements. See film stills
freedom and power (myth/theme),
145, 181n13. See also viewers/
visitors
freeze frames. See digital images and
digital imagery technology
Friedrich, Caspar David, 11012
gallery spaces, 367, 131, 141.
See also Atlantis Gallery;
museal spaces; spectators and
spectatorship; viewers/visitors
game art, 79, 172n31. See also video
games
gameophilia, 82, 172n30
gamers. See viewers/visitors
Garnett, Tay, 104

196
Index
gaze, the, 13, 87, 111, 1312, 146,

149, 166n29. See also look (in
film or painting); scopophilia
male, 96, 146
Parker, Molly and, 106
German Romanticism, 11011
Gesammtkunstwerk, 1413
gestures, cinephilic, 33, 59, 62
Girardet, Christoph, 527, 612,
645, 67, 169n36
Giraudeau, Bertrand, 735
Glasgow, Scotland, 39, 412
Godard, Jean Luc, 4950
Google Streetview, 1256
Gordon, Douglas, 1416, 26,
1339, 180n42
installation art, 3942
Vertigo and, 402, 1368, 141
Goya, Francesco, 612
Grand Theft AutoSan Andreas
(video game), 1468, 147
Grant, Cary. See Cary Grant
(painting)
Grusin, Richard, 723
Haeffner, Nicholas (Nick), 1435,
181n13, 182n29
Halaban, Gail Albert, 256, 164n3
Her Man, 1045
Herrmann, Bernard, 11922,
124, 126, 1326, 1789n25,
180n44. See also Bernard
Herrmanns Vertigo: A Film
Score Handbook (book)
Histoire(s) du Cinma, 4950
historiography/history, 78, 489,
73. See also films: history
Hitch (exhibition), 3
Hitchcock 30, 96
Hitchcock, Alfred, 89, 20, 96, 144
art/artists and, 689, 152.
See also under names of
individual artists
doubles and, 173n3
films and. See Hitchcock films
Hollywood and, 89, 161n21
influence of, 12, 610, 201,

534, 712, 104, 1234, 142,
160n14, 1789n25. See also
The Phoenix Tapes (expanded
essay film); Vertigo
influences on, 3, 97, 110, 160n14
landscape and, 11112
on narrative, 50
publicity photos and, 84
rear projection(s) and, 1029,
111, 11315
spatial montage and, 92
Hitchcock and Art: Fatal
Coincidences (exhibition), 3,
59, 103
Under Hitchcock (exhibition), 3
Hitchcock Experimental
(exhibition), 3
Hitchcock films, 678, 945,
170n1. See also under individual
names
geographies, 568, 789
props, 62, 69, 97
rear projection(s) and, 1027, 111
tropes, 545
Hitchcock Trilogy, 127
Hollywood, 89, 89, 116, 161n21.
See also film stills
Home Stories, 53
Hopper, Edward, 256
Hopper Redux (photographic
series), 25
Horowitz, Joseph, 120
horror (genre), 80
The Howlin Wolf, 106, 112
Hunters in the Snow (painting), 110
Hser, Rembert, 54
Huyssen, Andreas, 63
hypermediacy. See intermedia and
intermediality
Illuminated Average #1: Hitchcocks
Psycho, 97
illusion and disillusion, 101, 109
image and sound. See sound art/
sound in art; sound in film

Index
image technologies, 79, 107.
See also digital images and
digital imagery technology; rear
projection(s); special effects
images and narration, 456, 83
images, digital. See digital images
and digital imagery technology
images, moving. See moving images
images, stilled. See film stills
indexicality, 37, 778, 171n23
Infrastructure (installation), 97, 989
Inghilleri, Isabelle, 705, 142,
170n5, 170nn89
installation art. See also exhibition
practices; montage, spatial
David Reed and, 33, 367, 166n24
as expanded essay film, 51
interaction with, 166n28. See also
spectators and spectatorship;
viewers/visitors
intermedia and intermediality,
745, 82, 85, 88. See also Evil
Interiors (digital images series);
Location Proposal #2 (film
stills); remediation
intervention, aesthetic, 6, 1416,
22, 67, 146. See also Girardet,
Christoph; Gordon, Douglas;
Mller, Matthias; Reed, David
Jacobs, Steven, 7, 834
Jenkins, Henry, 14
Judys Bedroom (digital C-print), 389
Judys Bedroom (installation), 318,
32, 166n24
The Kiss (digital C-print), 389
Klein, Yves, 1
knowledge, interdisciplinary,
756. See also epistemophilia;
intermedia and intermediality
Kotz, Liz, 1289
landscape representation, 279, 28,
11012, 1645n8
Lane, Chris, 143, 149
197
Langford, Martha, 29
LeSueur, Marc, 107
level editors, 79, 82, 86, 160n13
LeVeque, Les, 936, 124
Lewis, Mark, 1920, 99100,
176n47. See also Nathan
Phillips Square, A Winters
Night, Skating
Hitchcock connection, 99, 101,
1045, 108, 110
influence of German Romanticism
and Friedrich, 11011
influence of Lumire brothers, 1001
influence of Tay Garnett, 104
rear projection(s) and, 10410,
11213, 11517
Link, Stan, 1212
Location Proposal #2 (film stills),
769, 77, 171n23, 171n25
look (in film or painting), 1312,
176nn5051. See also gaze, the;
Gordon, Douglas; scopophilia;
vision
ReFramed 1 . . . inVertEgo, 146
ReViewed, 149
Lumire brothers/Lumire drive,
1001
Lynch, David, 72, 170n9
Madeleine of Vertigo, 119, 121,
138, 148
Manovich, Lev, 173n1
Marclay, Christian, 12833
Marker, Chris, 489
Marnie, 103
Martin, Adrian, 152
medial relationships and
mediality. See intermedia and
intermediality
Mlis, Georges, 101
memory, 389, 489. See also nostalgia
cultural, 1415, 59, 76
invoking, 623, 128, 1312,
1378

198
Index
Metz, Christian, 14
Michaud, Phillip Alain, 1001
Modern Art Oxford (formerly
Museum of Modern Art
Oxford), 53, 169n31
monitors, television. See television/
television sets
Monk by the Sea (painting), 111
montage, spatial, 19, 55, 913, 105,
109, 11617, 173n1, 176n47.
See also rear projection(s);
superimposition
Moral Hallucinations: Channelling
Hitchcock (exhibition), 2
Morgan, Daniel, 4950
Morris, Christopher, 103
moving images, 456, 835, 148
Muir Woods. See Redwoods State
Park/Vertigo Muir Woods
Mller, Matthias, 527, 62, 645,
67, 169n36
Mulvey, Laura, 1213, 104, 107,
146, 1489, 1512, 176n47
museal spaces, 358, 58, 169n44.
See also gallery spaces; public
spaces; The Phoenix Tapes
(expanded essay film)
activating, 63
computer games and, 80
Museum Meltdown ([video] game
art), 79
Museum of Modern Art Oxford. See
Modern Art Oxford (formerly
Museum of Modern Art
Oxford)
musical scores, 11920, 124, 137
myths (cinema/cinematographers),
9, 1445
narrative fiction film, 456, 50, 55,
59, 107. See also images and
narration
narrative painting, 31, 165n19
Nathan Phillips Square, A Winters
Night, Skating, 11213, 113,
11517
neon lights, 34, 3941

Nine Piece Rope (film still), 92, 93
North by Northwest, 98
North by Northwest (painting), 70
nostalgia, 9. See also memory
Notorious: Alfred Hitchcock and
Contemporary Art (exhibition),
2, 53
objects in art and film, 10, 38,
5962, 76. See also art and
artistic objects/practices; props
Obsessionen: Die AlptraumFabrik des Alfred Hitchcock
(exhibition), 3
Oh! Hitchcock (exhibition), 2
OPray, Michael, 51
optical crutches. See camera and
camera movement
optical effects. See zoom
originals vs. copies, 1356
Orozco, Gabriel, 745
Out My Window (photographic
series), 25, 164n3
Outside the National Gallery, 117
Pani, Dominique, 1034, 11115
Pantenburg, Volker, 142
paracinema, 56, 31
Parker, Molly, 1056, 106, 112,
176nn501
The Phoenix Tapes (expanded essay
film), 19, 5265, 57, 60
photography/photos
cinephilia and, 68, 74. See also
Bernard, Cindy; film stills; under
individual photography series
publicity, 734, 835
pilgrimages, cinephilic, 257,
2930, 41, 125
The Pitch, 10910
Point Omega (book), 1516
portraiture, 734
presentations. See curatorial
practices/strategies; exhibition
practices

Index
process photography/shots. See rear
projection(s)
props, 334, 54, 59, 612. See also
Hitchcock films
Psycho (1960), 12, 82, 845,
159n3
24 Hour Psycho (1993) and, 15
inhabiting, 87
shower scene, 9, 161n24
Psycho (1998), 97
Psycho (from Tajiris Hitchcock
Trilogy), 127
public spaces, 36, 166n29. See also
museal spaces
Rancire, Jacques, 50
Rascaroli, Laura, 478, 51, 63
Raybould, David, 149
the real and the virtual. See artifice
Rear Projection (Molly Parker), 104,
1057, 106, 10810, 112
rear projection(s), 19, 99, 10116,
175n28, 176n47
Hitchcock, and, 1029, 111,
11315
Lewis and, 10410, 11213,
11517
Rear Window, 164n3
Rear Window (painting series),
6970
Redwoods State Park/Vertigo Muir
Woods, 76, 77
Reed, David, 18, 26, 301, 578,
169n19
paintings and installation art
(ensembles), 319
Vertigo and, 339
Re-edit (software program). See
ReFrame (software program)
ReFrame (software program), 1456
reification of profilmic space, 18,
303, 166n23
remediation, 19, 724, 7689,
1468. See also Evil Interiors
(digital images series); Location
Proposal #2 (film stills)
199
RePossessed (exhibition), 3, 14351,

181n7
ReConstructed, 1456
ReFramed, 1456
ReMixed, 146
RePlayed, 1468
ReTurning, 148, 182n29
ReViewed, 149
ReVisited, 14951, 150
representation devices/practices,
2633, 51, 58, 614, 68,
7981. See also landscape
representation
Robinson, Anne, 143, 148, 182n29
Romanticism, German, 11011
Rope, 93
Rutland, 548, 57
Ryan, David, 122
Saboteur, 11315
Samuel, Benjamin, 96
San Francisco, 33, 41, 1256, 149
Sans Soleil, 489
Schroetner, Jens, 88
scopophilia, 13, 124, 1312. See also
gaze, the
Scottie of Vertigo, 789, 108, 119,
121, 1256, 132, 148
Scotties Bedroom (digital C-print),
389
Scotties Bedroom (installation),
315, 32, 378, 578
scrapbooking, 745
screenshots, 85
Searle, Adrian, 138
Shadows of a Doubt (exhibition), 3
Shower (film sculpture), 12, 159n3
shower scene. See Psycho (1960)
Snow StormSteam Boat off a
Harbours Mouth (painting), 98
sound and image. See sound art/
sound in art; sound in film
sound art/sound in art, 1224,
1301, 1346
sound effects. See sound in film
sound, found, 1234, 178n18

200
Index
sound in film, 20, 11923, 177n1

appropriation of, 1245, 128
artificial vs. real, 1256
Hitchcock and, 1356
images and, 1258, 135, 137,
180n44
quality of, 1356
sound in art and, 131
triggering memories, 127, 137
soundtracks, 1301, 135. See also
musical scores
space/spaces, 11011. See also
cinematic spaces; landscape
representation; museal spaces;
public spaces
appropriating, 76
architectural, 11617
inhabiting, 88
time and, 77, 88, 112
special effects, 103, 109, 1245.
See also neon lights; rear
projection(s); sound in film;
superimposition; zoom
spectators and spectatorship, 1213,
1516, 1512, 182n29.
See also fan culture and
practices; viewers/visitors
engagement and participation, 88,
1212, 144
epistemophilia and, 152
essay films and, 48
expanded cinema and, 52
Spiropoulou, Souli, 143, 146
Stevens, Richard, 149
still images. See film stills
storyboarding, 6971, 73, 75, 1
44
Sullivan, Jack, 120
superimposition, 967, 117, 126
Tajiri, Rea, 127
Tape Fall (installation), 128
Tapp und Tast Kino (Touch
Cinema), 52
Tay, Sharon Lin, 96
technology, limits of, 1456

Telephones, 129
television/television sets, 37, 44,
58, 1456. See also Blind
Televisions (installation)
Tetrad Series, 59, 612
Theme Park (painting series), 702,
72, 170n9
time, 367, 39
cinematic, 97
in film vs. painting, 71
moving images and, 91
space and, 77, 88, 112
Torn Curtain: Endless Beginnings,
1278
Torsson, Palle, 7980, 839
Turner, J. W. M., 98
Turnock, Julie, 102
Unreal Tournament and Unreal
Tournament 1 and 3 (digital
images), 802
Up and Out, 12930
van Alphen, Ernst, 17
Van Sant, Gus, 97
Vertigo, 7, 132, 134. See also
Location Proposal #2
(film stills)
Gordon and, 402, 134, 1368
indexicality and, 78
musical score and sound
effects, 11921, 123, 125,
134, 1368
Reed and, 334, 369
RePossessed (exhibition) and, 143,
14551, 181n11
Sans Soleil and, 489
Vertigo@home, 125
Vertigo: Soundtrack for an
Exhibition, 128, 1303,
179n32
Vertigo:Three Character Descriptions,
127
Vertigo zoom, 1089, 119

Index
video games, 7988. See also
gameophilia; level editors
fan culture and practices, 172n31
film and, 87, 148, 173n43
modifying, 82, 172n32
players as viewers, 87
Torsson and, 79, 85, 878
Video Quartet (installation), 129
viewers/visitors. See also gaze, the;
spectators and spectatorship
dialogue with art, 142
eye tracking, 149
freedom and power of, 1456,
14951, 150, 182n29
putting into the picture, 867, 134
vision, 61, 69. See also look (in film
or painting)
visual effects. See special effects
visual syntax. See illusion and disillusion
201
Walley, Jonathan, 5
Wanderer Looking over the Sea of Fog
(painting), 11011
white cubes, 78, 142, 171n24
Whitman, Robert, 12, 159n3
Why Wont You Love Me? 54, 56
Windhausen, Federico, 556,
169n36
Window (film sculpture), 1
Wollen, Peter, 131
Wood, Robin, 103
Workers Leaving the Factory, 456
Workers Leaving the Factory in
Eleven Decades, 46
The Wrong House (exhibition), 3
Zimmerman, Patricia, 96
zoom, 111. See also dolly zoom;
Vertigo zoom

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Alfred and the Art World

Cinephilic Pilgrimages and the Reification of

Activating Memories and Museums through the

Remediation and Intermediality: From Moving to

Spatial Montage, Temporal Collage, and the Art(ifice) of

The Acoustics of Vertigo: Soundtracks, Soundscapes,

Appendix: List of Hitchcock Artworks Cited

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HITCHCOCK AND CONTEMPORARY ART

Copyright Christine Sprengler, 2014.

A catalogue record of the book is available from the British Library.

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Alfred and the Art World

n the early 1960s, Robert Whitman created a series of eight Cinema

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opens up a series of specific trajectories into questions of voyeurism,

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More exhibitions soon followed. In 2003, Hitch opened at the

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chart the development of gallery films or illustrate a very broadly

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also suggests that the practice of remaking Hitchcock by filmmakers

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Hitchcock as not only anif not theauteur in the world of cinema

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metonymically for classical Hollywood cinema itself, recalling in very

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including filmic moments detached from their original contexts but

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work is kind of up to them, and if the work is captivating enough,

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and its production of new forms of spectatorship have opened up

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that epistemophilia functions like a drive and, as such, compels us to

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youre looking.48 It prompts him to reflect on voyeurism itself, his

A theoretical object can be an element of painting such as a cloud,

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Permutations of these ideas can be found in the work of Ernst van

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