VIDEO ART HAS NEVER SEEMED TO KNOW QUITE WHAT TO DO WITH ITSELF. THIRTY YEARS AFTER ITS BEGINNINGS, IT'S STILL NOT COMFORTABLE ON THE MARKET OR IN THE MUSEUMS. DOES THAT MAKE IT A DEAD END OR A REVOLUTION?

To identify video art as a single genre is like calling physics, chemistry and biology "science" or grouping all 13 to 19 year olds together because they are "teenagers." The video art classification covers a wide variety of very different artistic expressions.

Perhaps video art is so difficult to categorize because it hasn't been around for long. In 1965, Sony began marketing consumer video equipment. It was almost immediately picked up by the Korean artist Nam June Paik, and other artists followed soon after, to see what they could do with this new technology. Different styles and techniques developed from the start.

Artists who choose to work with video or film have a different and, some might say, more challenging, task than those who work with more traditional, stationary mediums. Unlike paintings, photos or sculptures, which allow the viewer to look at them for as long as he pleases, video and film pieces last for a set duration and must captivate the viewer for all of it. Different artists confront this problem in different ways, some by conveying emotion or sensuality, some by creating drama or suspense, but all video art must address it.

Even though many varieties of and ideas about video art exist, the moving image has only a narrow foothold in most art museums. So, when I stepped inside the Institute of Contemporary Art, I was interested and excited to see the museum filled to the brim with moving images, including Dutch artist Marijke van Warmerdam's 7 Thoughts, a series of projected film loops, and an international sampling of video art from the 1999 Venice Biennale.

Marijke van Warmerdam

Repetition exists in life wherever one looks. Routines, habits, patterns, tendencies are found throughout nature and society, but repetition is generally thought of negatively, as something that dulls what might otherwise illuminate.

Van Warmerdam has established herself as a master of repetition. Yet instead of documenting existing patterns of the visual world, she creates repetition from things that don't repeat, using film loops to transform isolated events into patterns of great expression and beauty.

In "Skytypers," a mesmerizing loop about a minute long, the camera follows five planes flying parallel against a background of varying shades of blue sky. Although the planes are speeding through the air, the scene is essentially motionless, except for the shifting background of clouds and the slowly fading smoke trailing the planes. The film is so smoothly put together that the repetition can barely be noticed and the progression seems to continue forever.

Van Warmerdam also uses film loops to create a sense of rhythm. "Empty House" is a series of brief shots which provide something like a tour of a house. Even though you cannot tell where the camera is taking you from one shot to the next, each is held for exactly the same amount of time, which creates a very distinct rhythm. The combined discontinuity and precision, repeated infinitely through the loop, provides an interesting and unexpected contrast.

Video via Venice: Highlights from the Biennale

This exhibit includes works from four different artists, ranging from a 40-second video loop to a 20-minute short film, and even to performance art and kinetic sculpture captured on video. Although the moving image connects the pieces, each artist's work is conceptually and visually quite distinct.

The experience and expression of emotions is the focus of Finnish artist Eija-Liisa Ahtila's videos on display at the ICA. Although these pieces are the most movie-ish of the exhibition, they are still very experimental, with unconventionally spaced plots, overdubbed voices and multiple screens.