How not to be seen:

A fucking didactic educational .mov file

Hito Steyerl’s latest installation takes the form of an instructional video, which provides a step by step guide on how the viewer can become ‘invisible’, in an age of digital image proliferation.

In the wake of recent revelations on the activities of the NSA and global intelligence operations, the piece strikes as particularly poignant, and poses the question, can we make ourselves invisible, and if so, is it a good thing?

‘Resolution determines visibility. Whatever is not captured by resolution is invisible.’

Through an exploration of the notion of visual resolution, Steyrel alludes to a modern desire to achieve invisibility. The artist, accompanied by a robotic narrator, advises us of various techniques that can be employed in order to become ‘invisible’. Some are artificial (Erase, Shrink), some pragmatic (Hide, Camouflage), and others just plain ridiculous (Be a superhero).

Yet despite the humour, there are more morbid undertones to this proposal, the words ‘Deleted’ and ‘Wiped out’ providing a more negative semantic take on the process. 

'One has to be become smaller or equal to one pixel.'

A backdrop of images taken from Google Maps of resolution targets, patterns painted in the Majove Desert by the US Air Force to test cameras, appear on the screen. We are told that 13 years ago, a new standard for resolution targets were introduced. Taken from an airborne or satellite camera the resolution patterns determine the smallest discernible size an object can be whilst remaining visible. A minimum visibility of 12 m per pixel was reduced to a clearer resolution that amounted to a mere one foot per pixple. The new standardisation means that hypothetically, to be invisible, ‘one has to be become smaller or equal to one pixel.’.

On one hand, Steyerl indicates that in an age of image proliferation, if we become ‘low resolution’ or ‘covered’ as exhibited through pixelated veiled characters that dance across the screen, we are more free. Low resolution images in this context can be construed as socially useful, non-authoritive and can therefore be widely used in a “safe” manner. If our exterior is more ambiguous, it gives relief from the monotonous imaging that we are all subject to. Being exempt from visual representation unchains us from political burden and is understood as an almost revolutionary threat, as the robotic narrator chimes, ‘being an invisible person is the enemy of the state’.

However, Steyerl's presentation of disappearance is multifarious, if one was to become invisible, a ‘dead pixel’ or a ‘rogue pixel’ as Steyerl suggests, then that would also evoke the idea of political abduction, the removal of having individual influence over others, or the ability to leave any kind of blueprint in society. The 3-D ghosts and eery transparent figures that wander the computer generated flash hotels and shopping malls hint at this unsettling, SIMS like anonymity. Even more so, it is apt that such surroundings, no doubt built by overseeing organizations, are haunted by these non-identities almost as they are in real life.  

The scene brings about the question: is it more favourable to have our every move followed by large organizations, yet still be accessible, and influential to others? Or is it better to disappear, be ‘eliminated’, and ‘liquidated’? Would being in such a non-existent state amount to being pretty much dead?

Steyerl doesnt enforce any one opinion in her piece, but runs more of a commentary to draw awareness to something that is becoming an increasingly important issue in today’s society.

Overiding any subtle pessimism about civilisation, there is a persistent comedic aspect to the piece, which flourishes in its conclusion; whereupon a video of The Three Degrees performing ‘when will i see you again’ is projected upon a CGI screen, in a desert next to dancing simulated ghosts and a man in a morph suit.

Overall, Steyerl provides a witty, relevant and thought provoking piece, that touches on the absurdity of modern day life.