Step right up and press your eye up to the brass peephole, remembering that the teal door is the only thing that stands between you and the wormhole Bogna Burska calls 21:21. Already known for challenging imagery, such as Arachne, an immersive video installation in which an enormous spider stalks a pink boudoir, or Algorithm, a set of 12 photographs juxtaposing the flowering of a peony bud with the surgical amputation of a limb, the Poland-based artist has directed her formidable attention toward theories on time and their correlation to the structure of film. Even without understanding the nuance between Henri-Louis Bergson's "time image" and "movement image" or the cine-physics behind Andrei Tarkovsky's "time-pressure" and "time-thrust," it is impossible not to be swept up into Bruska's video vortex. Her film clocks transform frames into rings, around which recognizable faces and places spin and stretch. Sometimes frenetic and harrowing, sometimes composed and thoughtful, they are like time itself, and will be gone before you know it.
