Nebula; 24 hours with 'The Clock'

The difference a day makes; 24 hours with ‘The Clock’
By Jess Young

I, like most people that have had the pleasure of visiting British Art Show 7, have been especially intrigued by Christian Marclay’s ‘Clock’; a video piece that runs for a full 24 hours. Although it basically, for all practical purposes, is a working clock, it is incredibly difficult to tear yourself away from. This film is made from several thousand film clips of varying lengths, which took Marclay 2 years to track down and put together. It also runs in real time, so whatever the time is that you’re watching it, you can guarantee it says so on the screen. If nothing else, this piece of work is a miracle of video editing, but there is more to it than that; Marclay, in building this artwork, has managed to transform a completely routine action- looking at the clock- into something spectacular, and at all times gripping.

A strange thing that The Clock does to you, even when just spending a few minutes with it, is that it makes you feel nervous about time. Perhaps that’s just me, but I found that on my previous visits, in the time that I was viewing this film, being constantly aware of the time made me very anxious about how long I was spending in there watching it. It’s an odd thing, being directly confronted by time as you are living it, and being sat in a room actively and intentionally watching the minutes of your pass on by. I had to limit myself, on my visits, to a set period of time that I would leave after so as not to waste my life in front of the television, as it were. Is Christian Marclay deliberately commenting on these anxieties that come with being constantly made aware of the time? There’s a lot of pressure put on being somewhere, being on time, keeping busy; time is money after all, as Benjamin Franklin so famously observed.

So, I decided to do the only reasonable thing that I could, and go to the full screening on October 22nd and view the whole 24 hours, every minute- perhaps to find out exactly why this piece is so mesmerising; to explore my own feelings about time, and to experiment with my perceptions of what time means exactly; as an abstract concept, but also its role within my own life.

I went to view this piece with my friend and colleague Didge Dowley, and we arrived at the Slaughterhouse-One of the five BAS7 venues in Plymouth- as prepared as we could be for what we were about to put ourselves through. I had also done my best the day before to ready myself for this event, so determined was I to last the full 24 hours; I took the afternoon off and tried to relax as much as I could. I didn’t eat or drink- one of the practical considerations that has to be put in place when preparing to enter a room at noon one day, and not leave until noon the next- and despite being slightly nervous and apprehensive I was actually very excited to just get started.

The first eight hours or so rolled by very quickly and steadily for me, and time flowed in a way that it never can in the ‘outside world’- thoughts about what I would usually be doing at this time, or about how long exactly an hour is, started to melt away. In fact, despite the focus of this film being time and the theme of time being entirely inescapable while watching it, time actually lost a lot of its meaning. It became irrelevant in a way, because I knew very well that for 24 hours I had nothing to do and nowhere to be, except right there watching this film. I’ve had to consider the possibility that time is only relevant when you are forced to actively engage with it- making it ‘on time’ to appointments or meetings- but when just spending time with yourself it actually has very little meaning at all- we rely more on our instincts, and our ‘internal clocks’. I know that I, personally, couldn’t tell you what time of day I usually eat or go to sleep, and I’ve never felt the need to know, but when involved with people outside of my small world I am (almost) always absolutely punctual. Perhaps time is only important when you have to ‘keep on top of it’, as though it’s a constant opposing force.

A very interesting thing about this film, that you don’t necessarily pick up on when you just see a few minutes at a time, is that not only do the clips selected reference time with the presence of a timepiece or a mention of that time of day, but they also communicate with and roll off of one another; through cross-over of audio, but also through various themes; for example the workplace, people speaking on telephones, making breakfast... The way that this has been done allows you to create new narratives within this film, so that it becomes not only about following time, but also about witnessing and becoming involved in these stories and alternative realities.

Actually, there’s really no getting away from it; this is an absolutely outstanding film and artwork. Not only is it thoroughly enjoyable, but it is totally accessible and has something that everyone can relate to- time is a universal theme, and it means something to all of us. I think, aside from the fact that it is faultlessly executed, this is why it has been such a popular piece of art, both on its own and within the British Art Show.

One thing about watching ‘The Clock’ for 24 hours, and actually a big thing, was that it was hard. I could lie and say that the brilliance of this film- and it is brilliant- made the hours just whizz by; indeed they did go by quickly at times, and certainly passed in an unusual way, but 24 hours is still 24 hours, and that’s a very long time to do just one thing for. There were points during the night where I actually really wrestled with the decision of whether or not to stay for the films entirety, and I think that what really kept me there was the knowledge, not only that it would definitely end at 12 noon- time is reliable like that- but also that if I left, I probably wouldn’t get another opportunity to watch the whole thing. It’s a peculiar thing to consider that the majority of this fantastic film will only ever be seen by a small handful of people; but then, I suppose it is in that way like 24 hours in the real world where the twilight hours are missed by most.

The physical discomfort that came with viewing this film in its entirety was more frustrating though than it was anything else, because it’s very difficult to separate yourself from. You can restrict your bodily functions and sit down on a hard floor for 24 hours, and it’s very do-able, but it’s far from pleasant. When you’re concerned with your own body, and with feeling uncomfortable, it’s very hard to commit entirely to anything else. When I wanted to be completely devoted to watching this film, especially in the last few hours, I too often felt distracted and detached. There were times when I began to wonder whether Marclay had even intended for his film to be watched from beginning to end, because it certainly wasn’t an easy experience, and it’s far from a natural thing to do. I certainly found myself for a short time, ridiculously, wishing that the film could just be just 12 instead of 24 hours; this being no comment on the artwork of course, because it never stopped being engaging or fascinating, only on how much your body can happily endure in a day.

That being said however, despite the unpleasant aspects of this experience, it was incredible, and given the opportunity to do it again (and I hope that one day I am), I would. I think there’s something strange that happens when you challenge your mind and body, even if it is just for one day, which allows you so much more lucidity about what it is that you’re experiencing. After all of this, even if nothing else, I certainly feel that I have a stronger grasp of what 24 hours actually means- in terms of bodily requirements (or in this case, refusing them), in terms of discomfort and how that’s something we’ll usually go out of our way to avoid, and especially with regards to how much can happen; how many actions can be carried out within the stretch of 24 hours. But there is also more to it than that. Marclay has made a beautiful film here, and even just viewing it for a few minutes at a time is a beautiful experience, and one that I hope will be witnessed by as many as possible, even if not for hours on end.

The Clock, with the rest of British Art Show 7, remains in Plymouth until December 4th 2011. Find it at the Slaughterhouse, Royal William Yard.