Extracts From Reviews

SUNBEAM (2011)

In Sunbeam Meigh-Andrews now perhaps realises what the earlier works hinted at, an artwork which both represents the prodigious energy of the sun and performs its effects by using that energy to make the representation possible. …. That the energy harvested during the day can then be used to make an artwork possible beautifully encapsulates Bataille’s notion of art as a form of general economy exemplified in the sun itself. The system that harnesses the sun’s extraordinary power for straightforward and restricted uses, such as supplying energy to the university and to the national grid, is ‘detourned’ to produce a work of art, or in other words something useless according to the restricted economy of reciprocity and exchange. This is, perhaps, the very definition of art itself.

Charlie Gere, Solar.

Migrating from photochemical to optoelectronic media since 1978 brought with it a radical increase in built-in obsolescence. The environmental burden of electronic equipment, in terms of resources, manufacture, energy use and waste has become a matter of concern for artists working with this equipment. some have developed works that variously recycle old technologies or decline to take their power from the grid. thus, Chris Meigh-Andrews’ SunBeam uses a solar tracking array (photovoltaic cells that follow the suns arc during the day) to power a night time projection of processed images from NASA’s Solar Dynamics Agency, the content and the process matching. The piece appeals to a cultural history of solar energy and the symbolic power of plants, like the daisy and the sunflower, that track diurnal rhythms in their behavior and growth.

Sean Cubitt, “Angelic Ecologies”, Millennium Film Journal, 1 (58), 2013, p. 40.


In the last few years, the Monument has itself been revitalized, undergoing significant restoration, and it has a new ‘virtual’ prominence . From its top a camera takes panoramic images of the city, which are available, constantly updated, in real time on the Internet [http://www. themonument.info/views/]. It is the work of the video artist Chris Meigh-Andrews. We can imagine that Wren and Hooke, great technological innovators both, would have approved, for the Monument was designed by them to have a double purpose: to be a place of experiment (its primary scientific purpose was to act as a zenith telescope ) as well as a memorial.

“The Phoenix: St Paul’s Cathedral and the Men who Made Modern London by Leo Hollis” (review)
Clare Haynes . The Scriblerian and the Kit-Cats, Volume 43, Number 2, Spring 2011 pp. 253-255.

This is a tasty little number. It’s a screengrab of a daily timelapse, shot from the top of London’s recently re-opened Monument. The Monument Project is an “ambient responsive outdoor installation” by Chris Meigh-Andrews, which shoots a continuous time-lapse birds-eye view of the city. You can use the Explore button on the top right to search through a back-catalogue of the sequences. Brilliant.



Chris Meigh-Andrews’ camera obeys natural laws since it is powered by the same laws. Meigh-Andrews fuses natural and technological elements and resurrects the branch of a dead tree by recording its previous existence using solar energy.

Digital Discourse is a tight exhibition in which every work seems to be a consequence of the previous one. It also successfully pauses a medium which is continuously playing yet simultaneously gives it more space in which to expand.

Stanley Borg “An Exhibition that Mega Bites”, The Times (Malta) Dec. 31st, 2005.


Photography has returned to the role of tool as part of the creative process, lacking its own artistic value. We can observe this shift, in Krakow’s Bunkier Sztuki, with the newest project of British artist Chris Meigh-Andrews. His work entitled “View of the Wawel Castle from Debnicki Bridge (after Ignacy Krieger)” is a free variation on Kreigers’ late 19th century work that captured this symbol of Polish history. Meigh-Andrews is interested in discovering Kreiger’s perception of Krakow and in what context the buildings had existed for him. In this way, the main concern of this British artist for many years has been the connection between past and present, questions of memory and, as pointed out by the artist himself, the problem of constructing places by individuals during the process of taking pictures. In his installation photography ceases to have a purpose of its own. The numerous photographs of the Kings’ residence are elements of a larger entity. Thanks to digital editing, video, and the adding of real, recorded sounds from the bridge, the photographs used for this installation are both still and moving. The viewer relates to the sequence of digitally recorded images permeating each other, appearing to emerge and collapse.

Marta Raczek: “From the Craftsman’s Tool to the Work of Art and Back Again – About the Role of
Photography in the Contemporary Installation” Biuletyn Fotograficzny, Krakow, March 2004.

(Translated from Polish by Aneta Krzemien and Stephen Barkley)


Meigh-Andrews, for his piece For William Henry Fox Talbot, positioned the technology at the forefront of the work. Meigh-Andrews set out to digitally replicate the historic photographic image by Fox Talbot of the oriel window at Lacock Abbey. While the original photograph encapsulates the wonder of capturing an image onto photo-sensitive paper, Meigh-Andrews in his reconstruction, approaches new technology with the same degree of wonder.

A temporary broadband connection to the V&A was installed to transmit the image from Lacock. The image was projected into the gallery onto frosted Perspex, the image of a window onto its material. The projection faded according to the light at Lacock, intense at mid day, fading out towards evening. New technology in this instance appeared frail, the shimmering image suspended in the gallery, still dependent on the same power of light as the original photograph. But while the original photograph was the work of one man, the digital image was the result of countless men and systems working together, a reminder of the interconnectivity of new technology.

Professor Paul Coldwell, “Digital Responses: Integrating the Computer” , Pixel Raiders, March 2003

The paradoxical interconnection between proximity and distance, of a kind that I hope to have evoked through my introductory anecdote, was rendered palpable to me through the medium of exhibition. In particular, this experience came about through an encounter with a museological installation dedicated to one of the founders of photography, William Henry Fox Talbot, at the Victoria & Albert Museum in London. The focal point of this arrangement of sundry artefacts associated with early photographic technology was an original copy of William Henry Fox Talbot’s book, The Pencil of Nature. There, adjacent to this otherwise standard cabinet-encased display, I came unexpectedly upon a digital projection of an oriel window of the kind immortalised by Fox-Talbot in his earliest photographs dating back to August 1835. At first, this fleeting projection could just as easily be dismissed as a case of the morning light outside being cast through the windows lining the length of this narrow gallery. Upon closer inspection, however, the shadow play seemed uncannily to re-enact the exact characteristics of this famous photographic image. To refer to this digital image as a representation seems a somewhat inadequate description in that the image gently playing on the wall surface I was facing involved the direct transmission of the light passing at that very moment, not through the windows in the very room in which I was standing, but through the actual windows of Lacock Abbey in Wiltshire, near Bath in the west of England. Titled, For William Henry Fox Talbot (The Pencil of Nature), the work was an exact re-composition of Fox Talbot’s famous ‘photogenic drawing’, here captured by a solar-powered digital camera and relayed ‘live’ via an ISDN phone line to the gallery in South Kensington, where it was presented at actual size in ‘real time’. This most succinct and deceptively inconspicuous work was produced by British artist Chris Meigh-Andrews as part of a series of site-specific installations commissioned by the V&A between May 2002 and March 2003. Besides connecting two geographically separate sites, the work staged through its uninterrupted image-flow – the connection that history maintains with the present, and reconnected photography to its origin as (sun) light (evoking Joseph Nicephore Niepce’s earlier assignment of the term, heliography).

“Distributed Aesthetics and the Tele-image”, Vince Dziekan , Monash University, Australia, Faculty of Art & Design, Multimedia & Digital Arts


(BB Turner’s) reflected church has survived to become the subject of an ingenious video installation by the artist Chris Meigh-Andrews….

Jane Shilling, The Times, April 3rd, 2001.

The English village green, with its pond and church has become a postcard cliche. I doubt that the title, “A Photographic Truth”, for Benjamin Brecknell Turner’s original photograph of a village pond with ducks was was intended as sardonic, of some sort of indication of how little can be known from the image. However, Chris Meigh-Andrews’ digital animation of the same photograph renders a complex, confusing yet compelling space. The ducks on the water repeatedly circle, appearing increasingly purposeless.

Liz Wells, “Crossing the Atlantic…Uneasy Spaces”, 80 Washington Square East Galleries, New York.

Taking Turner’s image of Hawkhurst Church in Kent as a starting point, artist Chris Meigh-Andrews has created a four minute video ….to complement the pioneering photographic work that surrounds it in the gallery. The moving digital photograph begins with Turner’s rather eerie shot of the dark imposing church and then gradually morphs into a video image of the church today.

“Case Study: A Photographic Truth 2001”, Hot Dots: The Digital Design Magazine, November 2001.

In his homage, Chris Meigh-Andrews stresses the two main sides of Cage’s world perception: the Duchamp-flux ready-made symbiosis of music/art with Zen and oriental philosophy. Eight tape players placed on music stands in a circle simultaneously play eight John Cage lectures. A circularly moving microphone, like a metaphor for the circular movement of the Buddhist life cycle, picks up bits and pieces of these lectures, and also occasional background sounds of the exhibition hall, and amplifies them in the loudspeakers in the foyer.”

Anders Harm, “Nothing Matters”, International Media Art Festival, Interstanding IV, End Repeat, Estonian Art 2, Estonian Institute, Tallin, 2001.


For (Chris Meigh-Andrews) the defining quality of these images made them a powerful trigger for memory and imagination. The effective use of digital technology went further in evoking the renewed presence of the spa, creating a continuous flow of ‘liquid’ images which described the waters both in content and shimmering appearance.

Helen Putler, “Soundings”, AN Magazine, July 1999.

Chris Meigh-Andrews has used the public site as a way of retrieving what once existed by engaging with its matter. His works both in the physical and virtual spaces are in a continual state of transformation, juxtaposed with the properties of the site and producing complex realtionships between two states to introduce a third, more ambiguous space. In the Bath spa, a series of archival images trickle down a wall and lie suspended in the well. Hovering in space, the near transparent photos become endlessly overlaid with the next to create a stream of constantly changing visual residue. They comprise moving traces of history, transforming the archived image back into the very substance it was intended to represent- water.

Caroline Smith, from “Placeholder”, http//www.da2org.uk/submerged


In his research, (Meigh-Andrews) grew increasingly interested in natural images transfigured through a series of manipulations which create an artificial, alchemical world. The installations of the 90s focus, lastly, on a fundamental topic – the physic flux and its parallelism with the mental flux, and the possibility that one activates the other.The installation at Calci plays on this twofold aspect – some halogen lamps illuminate four solar panels which feed some monitors which generate some moths. The whole process is an infinite cycle that the spectator mentally builds through a linear series of logical passages. The thinking flux also establishes a connection among spatially discontinuous elements.
Mothlight puts forward another characteristic also present in other works of the artist – the search for contradiction, specifically the “ironic” exploitation of alternative energy. The viewer that has patiently reconstructed the path of energy cannot miss the fact that the solar panels are fed by the halogen lamps.

Chiara Leoni, Flash Art (Italy) , Summer 1998 (translated from Italian by Cinzia Cremona)

MIND’S EYE (1997)

Mind’s Eye adds a new dimension to Chris Meigh-Andrews’ ‘post-minimal’ video and installation-sculpture, although many of its themes expand on earlier concerns- words set against image, the mixture of pre-recorded and live video and an abiding concern for ‘parallel flow’ or continuum from the work of art to the spectator. His work relies on personal, often lyrical, ideas which have a decidedly social interface (as with visual perception). This work, I think, is his first to exploit ‘hidden’ aspects of vision in the sphere of scientific knowledge, in contrast to the more familiar and given world of landscape and dailyness, or to such works as The Stream in which flowing water also refers analogically to the movement of human awareness.

A.L. Rees, Catalogue essay for the exhibition, Hotbath Gallery, July-Aug, 1997.

Chris Meigh-Andrews has created a video installation that utilises the latest functional Magnetic Resonance Imaging (fRMI) brain scan techniques to present an electronic exposition of human perception. Mapping images of the artist’s brain in response to a visual stimulus, Mind’s Eye seeks to from a bridge between two views of human perception: the scientific, image-based representation and the more subjective, emotional response to art. Analysing how humans derive meaning from art has long been a preoccupation of Meigh-Andrews, and Mind’s Eye is the natural successor to a number of impressive installations- including Vortex (1995) and Eau d’artifice (1990) that variously explore human consciousness.

Contemporary Visual Arts, July 1997

VORTEX (1995)

Like others of Chris Meigh-Andrews’ installations,….Vortex is made of electricity, the flow of those primordial forces, that even now, we scarcely comprehend, but whose movement approximates to the motions of both water and thought. The flux of electrons and magnetism, the fall of light and the drag of gravity, are the subject and the medium in an art where the two are indistinguishable.

Sean Cubitt, essay for the exhibition at Prema Arts Centre, Oct-Nov ,1995.

… on closer scrutiny the subtlety of the piece reveals itself. Symmetries are underpinned. Sound plays backwards and forwards, water ebbs as well as flows, silence is equated with stillness. Text operates as a bridge of visual material, not literary descriptor, linking ideas and process in a parallel relationship to that of the image and the represented.

John Forster, Live Art Magazine, April-June 1996.


In Domestic Landscapes the artist presents fragments of landscapes, domestic settings and those semi-natural spaces which link the locations that he has at different times called “home”. People appear and disappear, relationships are hinted at but never defined. The work speaks of an elusive masculinity which is forever shifting, evolving an image of itself in the places and through the people who become significant for a time. Since this work exists as an interactive CD -ROM, the sense of mobility, of multiple permutations and connections is pervasive. At no point can one create monuments, nor devise grand narratives, theories or ideologies, there are no closures. The identity which is proposed looks no further than its own humanity to establish a working definition of what it might mean to be a man.

Catherine Elwes, from: “The Pursuit of the Personal in British Video Art’, Diverse Practices. A Critical Reader on British Video Art, ed. Julia Knight, John Libby Media, Luton.1996.


Artists have only recently begun to exploit the computer as a medium of expression and exploration. The work of Chris Meigh-Andrews is certainly in the forefront of such developments. He exploits his theme of self-imaging as a form of information , utilising a visuality that is neither photograph nor video.
Meigh-Andrews’ brilliant new work seems to volunteer a demonstration of the process by which we can, in a sense that is difficult to define, become an illusion to ourselves. In doing so, he makes our selfhood questionable- which is to say interesting – again.

Ian Harrow, Introductory Essay for CD- ROM A Sense of Myself, 1994.


Perpetual Motion uses space in an intelligent way- using the dimensions of the gallery to create a sculptural installation which poses a series of relationships between the viewer, the physical presence of the objects and the technologies at work in the piece. There is a flow of the viewer’s imagination as s/he makes associative leaps between the wind machine driving the turbine and the image of the kite on the monitor. Meigh-Andrews has left creative gaps in his work, so that the audience is left to create a simple technical narrative- how it all works- and to create a narrative of meaning within the work itself…..the effect is both medative and engaging….This is a circuit of energy, imagination and visual representation through which the artist comments on the representation of landscape, the desire of both art and science to represent and imitate the natural world, to force from its disorder, structure, to take its structures and create a more perfect replica. If there is an implied synergy / dependency / inspiration between nature and the machine- there is also an implied critique of that relationship.

Lowena Faull ,“Digital Meditation. Imagine Technology as Art”, Back/Slash Catalogue, Sept-Nov. 1996.

Meigh-Andrews is an English artist who worked with the video image during the 80s, putting forward its semiological aspects. In his research, he grew increasingly interested in natural images transfigured through a series of manipulations which create an artificial, alchemical world. The installations of the 90s focus, lastly, on a fundamental topic – the physic flux and its parallelism with the mental flux, and the possibility that one activates the other.
Perpetual Motion , 1994, is regulated by the same principles – a video-kite shakes its tail to the wind from the ceiling of the hall, while a grassy video-rug is moved by the gusts. The scene is dominated by a real fan, but the Aeolian flux that the spectator experiences physically is deceptively responsible for the movements in the sky and on earth – the fan is ironically and poetically the motory genesis – for its energy is used to feed the monitors on which images flounder about.

Chiara Leoni, Flash Art, Summer 1998 (translated from Italian by Cinzia Cremona)

(In Cross-Currents) …we see this swimmer swimming beautifully, sensuously up and down in a handsome video installation….It was a work which I felt most easy with, and which I liked very much.

Emmanuel Cooper, “River Crossings”, Kaleidoscope, BBC Radio 4, March 26th, 1993.


Fascinating on two levels: perceptually we see nine short films cued in sequence, yet we read it as a continuous “stream”… At a symbolic level it seems to be about relationships, messages given, received, understood, misinterpreted…This beautiful and moving piece…shows just how much video art as sculpture has come of age.

Adrien Henri, Liverpool Daily Post, August 21st, 1991.

In Streamline…the space between the monitors becomes the site of the imagination as we fill in the gaps to complete the stream. This process is emphasised by the sudden appearnce of a hand at one end which launches a small paper boat. The boat travels down the stream appearing and disappearing across the monitors in a game of conceptual “Fort/Da”. The delight with which children follow the boats is a testament to Streamline’s breadth of appeal. The more adult viewer can also notice a narrative content which casts the female hand as the launcher of boats and the male as the recipient of the “messages”. These fragile communications make their way down the line with some difficulty but always reach their destination, their meaning undoubtedly compromised by their journey. A poignant and rather magical metaphor for the vicissitudes of human communication.

Catherine Elwes, “European Media Arts Festival- Video Installation in Osnabruck”,Variant, Winter/Spring, 1993.

Meigh-Andrews’ installation impresses your memory, and sets the tone for the exhibition. our visual and linguistic experience is more often than not on screens, and this work opens new ways of dealing with them.

Wendelin Zimmer (Osnabruck, Germany) Sept. 1992 (translated from German)

Streamline renders far more complex commentaries on communication than the flow of TV can: excluding itself from direct address, yet it is by that far more open to dialogue than the fictive dialogue of TV’s self-presentation. Here after all is an example of the artist as producer, making an addition to the repertoire of effects, opening a way for new inventions in the electronic medium. In announcing its own illusionist effects,…Streamline presents an alternative version of communications: one subject to all the vagaries and dangers of the channels that it uses, that recognises the fact that there are channels.

Sean Cubitt ,Videography: Video Media as Art and Culture, MacMillan, London, 1993.


Classical and formal in its inspiration and it’s symmetrical economy, Eau d’Artifice opens outwards and inwards simultaneously towards the famous Kenneth Anger film….and beyond that to a formal, nearly Kantian aesthetic which, however, is maintained in constant interplay with the intangibility of the images, and their slow fade in and slow fade out. Despite its scale, the piece breathes fragility and ephemerality. water is indeed, as on the soundtrack, its central complex metaphor.

Sean Cubitt, Artscribe International, April-May, 1991.

...what Meigh-Andrews is offering us is an aural and visual stimulus, a temporal space in which to experience our own interiority…like a real fountain it interacts with our senses setting up a flow of perception, interpretation and projection in which we are the main creative protagonists. The artifice of the title reminds us that apart from its technological base, the work is a complete fiction…Eau ‘Artifice refers constantly to its own means of production- the aggregation of monitors, the cables that carry the signals, the flatness of the screens that pulls against the illusion of depth…(it) allows us to play with our perceptual processes and reflect a little on th daily stream of illusions emanating from the box which we accept as objective reality.

Catherine Elwes, Performance, Spring 1992.

The use of screens to make a composite image- and the use of water a subject -reappears in Chris Meigh-Andrews 1990 work Eau d’Artifice- a fountain formed of tiered video monitors. Water has been used by video artists as a metaphor for the fluidity of the medium itself, and Meigh-Andrews has, in several works, linked this metaphor to a consideration of flow as a metaphysical or psychological process.

Video Installation in the UK” Video Positive Catalogue, October 1991.

A sense of accident is used to good effect by some artists for example Chris Meigh-Andrews, whose Eau d’Artifice (1990) shown at the Harris, makes use of the wiring and playback decks as elements of the sculpture itself, punning on the flow of current, images and imaged water.

Screen, Vol. 32, No. 2, Summer 1991.


…a recognisable domesticity is re configured out of illegible but carefully equilibrated pixels, digitised into blocks of colour. As the image clarifies, the scale of abstraction rises, as the symmetry of the frame about its vertical axis intrudes further into consciousness: is this landscape imaginary because it is symmetrical? Like mud sedimenting out of river water, the raw footage emerges as the imaging of the imaginary, of self-image and imagination.

Directory of Film & Video Artists, Arts Council England/John Libby Media, Luton, 1996.


A hypnotic visualisation of a Steve Reich piece from an artist whose work continues to grow in maturity and assurance.

Jeremy Welsh, Bracknell Video Festival Catalogue, 1987.

… more than a slowly evolving and engagingly simple essay on the power and beauty of nature, as subtle questions arise…The Stream seems to operate , almost subliminally, on the borderline between the “landscape” genre and softcore didacticism. Eschewing the up front, confrontational strategy of many tape makers, Meigh-Andrews manages to be all the more effective in offering questions to the viewer by integrating text into a larger framework of quietly striking images.

Nik Houghton, “The Stream: Chris Meigh-Andrews”, Independent Media, March 1988.


… an evocative work, with consistently crisp colours, non-shaky zooms, and poignant, associative imagery redolent of both personal identity and photography itself.

Reel Reviews” Time Out, July 1983.

ON BEING (1985)

In On Being Chris Meigh-Andrews weaves a gentle tapestry of memories and connections with places, objects and the image of a woman with whom he was bonded. his sense of identity is fluid, shifting. he displays the kind of negative capability normally associated with the flexible ego boundaries of women.

Catherine Elwes, “The Politics of the Personal in British Video Art”, LVA Catalogue, Autumn 1991.


For the video artists, however, as in the case of Chris Meigh-Andrews’ Interlude (Homage to Bugs Bunny) of 1983, animation still meant the styles of Chuck Jones, in this instance re-edited to create a labyrinth of repetitive action punctuated by the addition of video zooms to the found footage. Meigh-Andrews notes at least four levels of action for the tape:

“For me Interlude (Homage to Bugs Bunny) was important because it became ‘physical’, both because of the use of duration, which I had learned from the structuralist film-makers, and rhythmical because of what I had learned from listening to (Steve)Reich. It was also nostalgic, because it referred to my childhood television viewing, and conceptually interesting to me because it referred to the ‘flow’ of programming which by now seemed to define the medium of television so specifically.”

Though antedating scratch, Meigh-Andrews’ tape appeared in scratch contexts, adding to the variously critical or post-modern applications an articulation with structure, system and the material presence of the object which refers, among others, to the structural-materialist film work of LeGrice (for example Berlin Horse of 1970).

“On the Reinvention of Video in the 1980s”, Sean Cubitt and Stephen Partridge (eds), REWIND:Artists’ video in the 1970s & 80s, John Libbey, 2012, 160-177


Chris Meigh-Andrews’ Distracted Driver is, compared to Orange Free State, a simple, meditative piece. The familiar screeches of Bernard Hermann’s score for the shower scene from Psycho are matched to grainy, blurred footage shot through the windscreen of a moving car. As the music fades, the car’s passenger embarks on a lengthy retelling of the film’s plot, stumbling over the details. Bored Driver might have been a better title. The motorist, who occasionally interrupts, sounds decidedly nonplussed, replying, when finally asked if he has seen Hitchcock’s best movie, with a curt  “No”. On screen, Meigh-Andrews uses rudimentary processing effects to colour the over-saturated image, shifting from blue to purple to red, with street lamps, the driver’s hands on the wheel and the occasional pedestrian picked out in glimmering highlights. The result is a piece of anti-Hitchcock anti-cinema: instead of being caught up in the action, manipulated by the director, and distracted by a MacGuffin, the viewer shares in the subjective experience of the poor, bored driver, the shifting colours hinting at a bid to avoid falling asleep at the wheel.

Jack Mottram, Video Art from the 70s and 80s, The Glasgow Herald, Friday, 10th October, 2008.

THE VIEWER’S RECEPTIVE CAPACITY (1978, with Gabrielle Bown)

Chris Meigh-Andrews’ scrutiny of the viewer’s receptive capacity takes these media conditions as the starting point to talk in the studio situation about the modes of production in two directions: to us the audience of the videotape and to the image of a woman who appears on an internally framed monitor and also standing in the studio but in another room. The recordings of her explanation of the technical and scientific purposes of television entertainment and news are immediately controlled by Meigh-Andrews. By playing the role a studio director who…overseas all elements of vision and sound, Meigh-Andrews introduces another personal level of commentary and agitation when he demands that she repeat and rehearse again and again in a tone that rather belongs to their personal relationship in real life than to the process necessary to produce the “live” effect of television.

The tape stretches the viewer’s patience to the limit not so much because of the media-within-media situation, but because of the two television “actors” to meet the basic requirements of the medium and deliver content ready for broadcasting. Like Vito Acconci’s refusal to accept the separation of production and display spaces, Meigh-Andrews here contests their split reality and argues with the woman on the monitor in real time. The struggle to maintain control over televisual production reverses the impression of real life, however, as the recorded material that creates the content of the video in return deals with the structure of television programmes. What is strengthened here in this conceptual loop, is how video can function as rupture and breakdown of television formats at the end of a chain of reception.

Yvonne Spielmann, “Video Between Television and Art: Interventions into Programme Flow and Standard Formats by British Video Artists”, Rewind: British Artist’s Video in the 1970’s & 1980’s, Sean Cubitt and Stephen Partridge, Eds, John Libbey Publishing, New Barnet, Herts, 2012.


Early British video art differs from its American counterpart and British experimental film in that it is concerned less with identifying the specific properties of the medium than with analysing the conditions of viewing and the mechanics and shaping of perceptual and social space. Continuum is a good example of this sort of work.

Jonathan Dronsfield, Short Histories of Video Art: 1965-Present, John Hansard Gallery, Southampton, 11-15 May 2004.