Entertainment
Bill Viola, pioneer video artist who explored nature of human consciousness, dies at 73
Artist Bill Viola, whose pioneering work with video since the 1970s opened the door to what would become a major artform internationally, died Friday at his home in Long Beach after a long struggle with early-onset Alzheimer’s disease, according to his wife and artistic partner, Kira Perov. He was 73.
Diagnosed in 2012, he had entered hospice care in October 2020. Viola curtailed his ambitious international practice the year before.
Using video technology, the artist had explored the nature of human consciousness — of what it is, how it operates, what it can endure or truly know. For the next four decades his art would be an extended exploration of the ancient conundrum.
“There are no answers to life or death,” Viola once explained of his aspirations for his art. “I think mystery is the most important aspect of my work. That moment when we open a door and close it without knowing where we’re going.”
In 1985, Viola’s “The Theater of Memory” became the first installation with a major video element to be included along with traditional painting and sculpture in New York’s Whitney Biennial, then the premier survey of new developments in American art.
The projected video is a dreamlike cloud of gray visual static — the vertical rolls, snow and other interference normally banished from a television screen in the living room. Momentary pictures emerge from the crackling cloud and then sink back — a girl walking, a simple clapboard building, a hand holding a teacup, a car careening over a steep embankment and more. No logical narrative materializes.
The installation, which the artist described as “a psychic landscape” meant to evoke the processes of memory, was acquired in 1988 by the Newport Harbor Art Museum (now the Orange County Museum of Art). A year before, the newly opened Museum of Contemporary Art in Los Angeles had acquired Viola’s “Room for St. John of the Cross,” a noisy evocation of spiritual disruptions in modern life as prophesied by a 16th century Spanish mystic.
The work incorporates as primary components both a mural-size video projection on the wall and a miniature color TV monitor sequestered inside a tiny, monastic, cell-like shack. That fall, the installation was a centerpiece in a selection of Viola’s installations and single-channel videotapes that became the first major exhibition at New York’s Museum of Modern Art to feature an artist who worked primarily with the mediums of video and sound.
This heady rush of “firsts” for American video art peaked in 1989 when Viola was awarded a MacArthur Fellowship. Only four subsequent artists working extensively with video have been chosen for the program, nicknamed the “genius grant,” in its 40-year history. In fewer than five years, Viola, then 38, had become the artist perhaps most instrumental for bringing video installation art into the mainstream of American cultural life, where today it is commonplace and occupies a central position.
Viola was born in Queens, N.Y., on Jan. 25, 1951, making him a card-carrying member of the first generation in global history to grow up bathed in the queer blue light of TV. When he was 18, his choice of Syracuse University as an art school destination proved fateful. Video art was taking off following the late-1960s invention of portable — and affordable — television recording equipment for personal use. Viola had enrolled at the school in Upstate New York to study painting, but the region was becoming a center for experimentation with the new video medium.
At the Experimental Television Center in nearby Binghamton, video pioneers Nam June Paik and Shuya Abe built a sophisticated electronic synthesizer, capable of layering, multiplying or dividing a mixture of live and recorded digital imagery into complex moving collages. Critic Bruce Kurtz, teaching in Oneonta, began writing about the new television artform for Arts Magazine, launched with the influential essay “Video Is Being Invented.”
At Syracuse’s Everson Museum of Art, director James Harithas, a supporter of all things artistically novel, hired David Ross as the museum world’s first curator of video art. Viola snagged a part-time job there as a technician and exhibition preparator, and he would have his first exhibition at the Everson in 1973. At school, he overlapped with Paul Schimmel, a young student studying museum studies and art history who would later become chief curator at Newport and MOCA.
Viola also performed in avant-garde composer David Tudor’s germinal musical production “Rainforest.” Presented at the Everson, the sound installation was constructed from such everyday objects as a metal barrel, a glass jar and plastic tubing, all suspended in space to amplify their resonance. Viola’s creative relationship with Tudor would continue until the composer’s death in 1996.
Important as well to shaping Viola’s emerging aesthetic was sculptor Jack Nelson, a Syracuse professor who became the young artist’s mentor. Nelson’s assemblages originated from an introspective spirituality, which he personified in a celestial character named Mr. Moon.
Bill Viola, “The Greeting,” 1995, video/sound installation.
(Kira Perov)
Viola soon took a related direction in his video art, exploring mystical and transcendent subject matter not being widely investigated in other contemporary American art. As his work deepened and matured in the 1990s, emphasizing spiritual and metaphysical inquiries, it would often find more welcoming audiences in Europe and Asia than in the United States.
After graduating from Syracuse with a bachelor of fine arts in experimental studio art, he took a post at a video workshop in Florence, Italy, for 18 months, becoming immersed in Renaissance painting and sculpture. He traveled extensively throughout the Pacific region, including Indonesia, the Solomon Islands, Northern India and Japan, where he lived and worked in 1980 and 1981. An artist-in-residence at Sony Corporation’s research laboratory outside Tokyo, Viola developed a major interest in Buddhist principles of mindfulness.
One Pacific journey brought him to Melbourne, Australia, at the invitation of Perov, then-director of cultural activities at La Trobe University. A relationship blossomed, and Perov began a lifelong collaboration with Viola on complex video and installation works.
The couple married in 1980. They settled in Long Beach, where Ross, nicknamed “Captain Video” among artists, had recently relocated from Syracuse to the Long Beach Museum of Art to launch an exhibition program and, later, establish a post-production video lab. Viola, in addition to utilizing those facilities, became artist-in-residence at Memorial Medical Center in the city, where he was able to explore new imaging technologies aimed at the study of the human body.
Mind and body connections were soon an established theme in Viola’s work. What made his art distinctive was its use of video technologies for a range of metaphors that once derived from nature. Traditional landscape was transformed into the revolutionary environment of digital imagery, where global society now lives.
Viola’s apocalyptic “Theater of Memory” installation was a watershed example. The dead tree, flamboyantly uprooted, is an overturned ruin from the natural landscape — the “blasted tree” frequently employed in 18th and 19th century European and American landscape painting to signify a disappearing concept of wilderness in the face of encroaching industrialization. Around Viola’s felled tree, lamplights of historical knowledge flicker like electrified fireflies. An artificial breeze gently wafts from an oscillating fan positioned nearby, while a gathering storm of thoughts erupts from the high technology of projected video light, crackling and popping in a primordial stew.
As with Plotinus, the Hellenistic founder of Neoplatonic philosophy, Viola’s installation proposes memory as a perceptual function that allows a human soul to acknowledge its own existence. Plotinus drew on obscure ancient Egyptian metaphysics, Viola on the esoteric technology of modern life.
Installation view, Bill Viola, “Martyrs (Earth, Air, Fire, Water),” 2014, South Quire Aisle, St Paul’s Cathedral, London.
(Peter Mallet / Bill Viola Studio)
In 1995, Viola represented the United States at the centennial of the Venice Biennale, the major international art festival in Italy. His exhibition included a hyper-slow-motion video, “The Greeting,” inspired by Mannerist painter Jacopo da Pontormo’s masterpiece “The Visitation” (1528-29), which richly intensifies a convivial interaction among three women. Dressed in flowing, brightly colored garments, two women warmly approach one another on the street as a third observes.
Bill Viola, “Martyrs (Earth, Air, Fire, Water),” 2014, high-definition video polyptych on four plasma displays.
(Peter Mallet)
Employing a stationary, high-speed 35-mm camera shooting 300 stills per second, Viola recorded the scene in one take. The event lasted just 45 seconds, but the video projection unfolds over the course of 10 minutes.
The video’s extreme slow-motion creates anticipation in a viewer, while the pictorial movement yields a desire to leisurely examine the image in a manner more akin to looking at paintings than at traditional camerawork. In 2003, Viola further explored human passions and emotional drives introduced in “The Greeting” in an exhibition at the J. Paul Getty Museum. Flatscreen videos employed imagery related to medieval, Renaissance and Baroque devotional paintings.
Fifteen large-scale video works made over 20 years were the subject of a 1997 Viola survey at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art. In a virtually unprecedented decision, the artist installed the show without a single identifying label or wall text, as museums typically require. Viola’s gesture gave priority to a viewer’s unvarnished art experience. Only at the end of the exhibition, when a visitor was leaving the museum, was an informative brochure available for further consideration.
Viola also produced work meant to be seen entirely outside the usual art context of a museum or gallery. London’s St. Paul’s Cathedral installed a commission, “Martyrs (Earth, Air, Fire and Water),” in a choir in 2014, joined two years later by the triptych “Mary.” The project is the first known example of video rather than painting or sculpture produced for permanent display as contemplative art inside a major church.
“Martyrs” features four vertical plasma screens showing silent suffering and martyrdom through the title’s four elemental forces. The second work is a triptych featuring an episodic narrative inspired by the life of the Virgin Mary but represented in cross-cultural terms of Western and Eastern religious and secular imagery. Among them is a Buddha-like woman breastfeeding an infant in the manner of a Christian Madonna and Child and posed before the Los Angeles skyline, where East and West meet. The pair of works were gifted to Tate Modern and placed on long-term loan to St. Paul’s.
In addition to Perov, Viola is survived by sons Andrei and Blake, daughter-in-law Aileen Milliman, brother Robert Viola and sister Andrea Freeman. A memorial is being planned in his honor.
Movie Reviews
Maxime Giroux – ‘In Cold Light’ movie review
(Credits: Far Out / Elevation Pictures)
Maxime Giroux – ‘In Cold Light’
The action is relentless in the complex thriller In Cold Light, a tense combination of crime and fugitive tale and family drama. It is the third feature and first English language film by Maxime Giroux, best known for a very different kind of film, the critically acclaimed 2014 drama Felix & Meira.
The tension and high energy of In Cold Light almost overwhelm the film, but are relieved, barely, by moments of character development and introspection that keep the audience pulling for the restrained and outwardly cold main character.
Speaking at the film’s Canadian premiere, director Giroux admitted he found creating an action film a challenge. Part of his approach was using very minimal dialogue, especially for the central character, letting the action speak for itself, and allowing silence to intensify suspense. Giroux has said he likes the lack of dialogue and speaks highly of the importance of silence in cinema; he prefers using “physical aspects of communication” in his films.
Young Ava Bly (Maika Monroe) is a competent and businesslike drug dealer, working in partnership with her brother Tom (Jesse Irving) and a small team. As the film begins, Ava has just been released from a brief prison sentence. She is hoping to return to her former position, but her brother’s associates consider her a risk due to her recent incarceration. While she works to re-establish herself, a shocking encounter with a corrupt police officer sends Ava’s life into chaos and forces her to go on the run.
Ava’s fugitive experience introduces a new character, to whom Ava turns for help: her father, Will Bly, played by Troy Kotsur, known for his excellent performance in CODA. Their first interaction is handled in a fascinating way, as Will is deaf and the two communicate through sign language. This, of course, provides another form of the silent interaction the director prefers; he explained that much of the father-daughter interaction was rewritten with the actor in mind. Their conflict is nicely expressed through a scene in which their initial conversation is intermittently cut off by a faulty light which goes out periodically, making communication through sign momentarily impossible, nicely expressing the rift between father and daughter.
As Ava continues to evade danger, her escape becomes complicated by new information, placing her in a painful dilemma. We gradually learn more about Ava, her background, and her character through occasional flashbacks and glimpses of her dreams. The plot becomes more complex and more poignant, and gains features of a mystery as well as an action tale, as she is pressed to choose from among equally unacceptable alternatives.
The climax of her efforts to protect both herself and those close to her comes to a head as she meets with the director of a rival drug gang. Veteran actress Helen Hunt is perfect in the minor but significant role of Claire, the rival drug lord, who plays odd mind games with Ava in an intriguing psychological fencing match. It’s an unusual scene, in which Ava’s personality is made clearer, and Claire’s understated dominance and casual speech do not quite conceal the threat she represents.
The frantic pace and emotional turmoil are enhanced by the camera work, which tends to focus tightly on Ava, and by a harsh, minimal musical score that sets the tone without distracting from the action. Giroux chose to shoot the film in Super 60; he describes digital as “too perfect” for the look he was going for, and since “Ava is rough,” the film portrays her better. The director describes the entire movie as “rough,” in fact, and deliberately chose a dark, washed-out look for much of the footage, occasionally using light and colour, in the form of fireworks, lightning, or a colourful carnival, to both relieve and emphasise the darkness.
The dynamic, intense story holds the attention in spite of the lengthy, sometimes repetitive chase scenes and subdued dialogue. Ava’s predicament, and the difficult decisions she is forced to make, are made surprisingly relatable, from the initial disaster that starts the action to the surprising flash-forward that concludes the film, on as high a note as the situation could allow. Fans of action movies will definitely enjoy this one.
Entertainment
Meet the Mexican American talent behind ‘KPop Demon Hunters’
The House of Pies, a Los Feliz institution, is bustling on a chilly January morning.
It wouldn’t be shocking if some of the patrons here for breakfast were casually chit-chatting about the cultural behemoth that “KPop Demon Hunters” has become. After all, the 2025 animated saga about three music stars fighting otherworldly foes is now the most-watched movie ever on Netflix; “Golden,” its showstopping track, has since become the first Korean pop song to ever win a Grammy.
But for Danya Jimenez, 29, who sits across from me sipping coffee, the reception to the movie she began writing on back in 2020 isn’t entirely surprising, but certainly delayed.
“When we first started working on it, I was like, ‘People are going to be obsessed with this. It’s going to be the best thing ever,’” she recalls. But as several years passed, and she and her writing partner and best friend Hannah McMechan, 30, moved on to other projects. They weren’t sure if “KPop” would ever see the light of day. Production for animation takes time.
It wasn’t until she learned that her Mexican parents were organically aware of the movie that Jimenez considered it could actually live up to the potential she initially had hoped for.
“Without me saying anything, my parents were like, ‘People are talking about this’ — like my dad’s co-workers or my aunt’s friends — that’s when I started to realize, ‘This might be something big,’” she says.
“But never in my life did I think it would be at this scale.”
“KPop Demon Hunters” is now nominated for two Academy Awards: animated feature and original song. And that’s on top of how ubiquitous the characters — Rumi, Mira and Zoey — already are.
“Everyone sends me photos of knockoff ‘KPop Demon Hunters’ dolls from across the border,” Jimenez says laughing. “My friend got me a shirt from Mexicali with the three girls, but they do not look anything like themselves. She even got my name on it, which was awesome.”
After graduating from Loyola Marymount University in 2018, Jimenez and McMechan quickly found their footing in the industry, as well as representation. But it was their still unproduced screenplay, “Luna Likes,” about a Mexican American teenage girl obsessed with the late chef and author Anthony Bourdain, that tangentially put them on the “KPop” path.
“Luna Likes” earned the pair a spot at the prestigious Sundance Screenwriters Lab, where Nicole Perlman, who co-wrote “Guardians of the Galaxy,” served as one of their advisors. Perlman, credited as a production consultant on “KPop,” thought they would be a good fit.
Jimenez didn’t see the connection between her R-rated comedy about a moody Mexican American teen and a PG animated feature set in the world of K-pop music, but the duo still pitched. Their idea more closely resembled an indie dramedy than an epic action flick.
“If [our version of ‘KPop’] were live-action, it would’ve been a million-dollar budget. It was the smallest movie ever. Our big finale was a pool party,” Jimenez says. “We had all of the girls and the boys with instruments, which obviously is not a thing in K-pop, and everyone was making out.”
Even though their original pitch wouldn’t work for the film, Maggie Kang, the co-director and also a co-writer, believed their voices as two young women who were best friends, roommates and creative collaborators could help the movie’s heroines feel more authentic.
“Maggie had already interviewed all of the more established writers, especially older men,” Jimenez says. “She knows the culture. She knew K-pop, she’s an animator. She just needed the girls’ voices to come through, so I think that’s why we got hired.”
Kang confirms this via email: “It’s always great to collaborate with writers who are the actual age of your characters! Hannah and Danya were exactly that,” she says. “They were very helpful in bringing a fresh, young voice to HUNTR/X.”
Neither Jimenez nor McMechan were K-pop fans at the time. As part of their research, they both started watching K-pop videos, but it was McMechan who got “sucked into the K-hole” first. Still, it didn’t take long until the video for BTS’ “Life Goes On” entranced Jimenez.
“K-pop is a river that you fall into, and it just takes you,” Jimenez says. BTS and Got7 are her favorite groups. For McMechan, the ensemble that captivates her most is Stray Kids.
In writing the trio of demon hunters, the co-writers modeled them after themselves. The characters’ propensity for ugly faces, silliness and a bit of grossness too, stems from the portrayals of girlhood and young womanhood that appeal to them. Jimenez, who says she was an angsty teen, most closely identifies with the rebellious Mira.
“I have a monotone vibe,” says Jimenez. “People always think that I’m a bitch just because I have a resting bitch face,” she says. “But as you can see in the movie, Mira cares so much about having everyone be really close. I feel like that’s how I’m with all my friends.”
Characters with strong personalities that are not simplistically likable feel the truest to Jimenez. In “Luna Likes,” the prickly protagonist is directly inspired by her experiences growing up, as well as the bond she shared with her dad over Bourdain’s “Parts Unknown” show.
“There’s a pressure to show that Mexicans are nice people and we’re hard workers. I was like, ‘Let’s make her kind of bitchy and very flawed,’” Jimenez says about Luna. “She’s a teenager in America and she should be given all the same opportunities — and also the forgiveness for being an ass— and [as] selfish at that age as anybody else.”
Hannah McMechan, left, and Danya Jimenez, co-writers of “KPop Demon Hunters,” met in college.
(Carlin Stiehl / For The Times)
Though their upbringings were markedly different, it was their shared comedic sensibilities that connected Jimenez and McMechan when they met in college. The two were close long before deciding to pen stories together. “Having a writing partner is the best. I feel bad for people who don’t have a writing partner, no offense to them,” says Jimenez.
McMechan explains that their writing partnership works because it’s grounded on true friendship. And she believes they would not have gotten this far without each other. While McMechan’s strong suit is looking at the bigger picture, Jimenez finds humor in the details.
“Danya is definitely funnier than me,” says McMechan. “It’s really hard to write comedy in dialogue versus comedy in a situation because if you’re putting the comedy in the dialogue, it can sound so forced and cringey. But she’s really good at making it sound natural but still really funny.”
Though she had been writing stories for herself as a teen, Jimenez didn’t consider it a career path until as a high schooler she watched the romantic comedy “No Strings Attached,” in which Ashton Kutcher plays a production assistant for a TV series.
“He is having a horrible time. But I was so obsessed with movies and TV, and I was like, ‘That looks incredible. I want to be doing what he’s doing,’” she recalls. “And my dad was like, ‘That’s a job.’”
Danya Jimenez grew up in Orange County.
(Carlin Stiehl / For The Times)
As an infant, Jimenez spent some time living in Tijuana, where her parents are from, until the family settled back in San Diego, where she was born. And when she was around 5 years old, Jimenez, an only child, and her parents relocated to Orange County. Until then, Jimenez mostly spoke Spanish, which made for a tricky transition when starting school.
“I knew English, but it just wasn’t a habit,” she recalls. “I would raise my hand and accidentally speak Spanish in class. My teachers would be like, ‘We’re worried about her vocabulary.’ That was always an issue, so it’s really funny that I turned out to be a writer.”
As she points out in her professional bio, it was movies and TV that helped with her English vocabulary, especially the Disney sitcom “Lizzie McGuire.”
Jimenez describes growing up in Orange County with few Latinos around outside of her family as an alienating experience. She admits to feeling great shame for some of her behaviors as a teenager afraid of being treated differently and desperate to fit in.
“I would speak Spanish to my mom like in a corner because I didn’t want everyone else to hear me speak Spanish,” Jimenez confesses. “If my mom pulled up to school to drop me off playing Spanish hits from the ‘80s or banda, I was like, ‘Can you turn it down please?’”
Like a lot of young Latinos, she’s now taking steps to connect with her heritage, and, in a way, atone for those moments where she let what others might think rob her of her pride.
“During the pandemic I cornered my grandma to make all of her recipes again so I could write them down,” she recalls. “Now I have them all written down on a website. Or if my mom corrects me for something that I’m saying in Spanish, I now listen.”
At the risk of angering her, Jimenez describes her mother as a “cool mom,” and compares her to Amy Poehler’s character in “Mean Girls.” Raised in a household without financial struggles, Jimenez doesn’t often relate to stories about Latinos in the U.S. that make it to film and TV. Her hope is to expand Latino storytelling beyond the tropes.
“That’s very important to me, to just tell Latino stories or Mexican stories in a way that’s just authentic to me and hopefully someone else is like, ‘Yes, that’s me,’” she says. “A lot of people have certain expectations for Latino stories that I’m not willing to compromise on.”
Though they still would like to make “Luna Likes” if given the chance, for now, Jimenez and McMechan will continue their rapid ascent.
They’re “goin’ up, up, up” because it is their “moment.” They recently wrapped the Apple TV show “Brothers” starring Matthew McConaughey and Woody Harrelson that filmed in Texas. They are also writing the feature “Attack of the Fifty Foot Woman” for Tim Burton to direct, with Margot Robbie in talks to star.
“I feel like I’ve just been operating in a state of shock for the past, I don’t know how many months since June,” says Jimenez in her signature deadpan affect. “But if I think about it too much, I’d be a nervous wreck.”
Movie Reviews
Jeremy Schuetze’s ‘ANACORETA’ (2022) – Movie Review – PopHorror
PopHorror had the chance to check out Anacoreta (2022) ahead of its streaming release! Does this meta-horror flick provide interesting story telling or is it a confusing mess.
Let’s have a look…
Synopsis
A group of friends heads to a secluded woodland cabin for a weekend getaway, planning to film an experimental horror movie. As the shoot progresses, the project begins to fall apart—until a real and terrifying presence emerges from the darkness.
Anacoreta is directed by Jeremy Schuetze. It was written by Jeremy Schuetze and Matt Visser. The film stars Antonia Thomas (Bagman 2024), Jesse Stanley (Raf 2019), Jeremy Schuetze (Jennifer’s Body 2009), and Matt Visser (A Lot Like Christmas 2021)
My Thoughts
Antonia Thomas delivered an outstanding performance as the female lead in Anacoreta. It was remarkable to watch her convey such a wide range of emotions with authenticity and depth. I was continually impressed by her ability to switch seamlessly between different dialects. I absolutely loved her delivery of the dialogue of telling The Scorpion and the Frog fable.
Anacoreta employs a distinctive, meta-horror style of storytelling. The narrative follows a group of friends creating a “scripted reality” horror film, and as the plot unfolds, the boundary between their staged production and their actual lives becomes increasingly blurred. This was interesting, but at the same time frustrating as a viewer.

Check out Anacoreta on Prime Video and let us know your thoughts!
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