CHOCKWIRKUNG IN MODERN VISUAL CULTURE

VIDEO ART AND PAINTING BETWEEN SPEED AND CONTEMPLATION

In my work Chockwirkung, I explore how film editing can recreate the sense of “shock” to which contemporary viewers have become accustomed. By experimenting with rapid cuts and visual disruptions, I examine how our perception has adapted to increasingly intense audiovisual stimuli. The piece was nominated for the 2013 Gran Geyser Art Prize in the Audiovisuals category in Spain.

The concept of “choc” (or “shock”) entered cultural theory in the late 1930s through Walter Benjamin’s studies of Charles Baudelaire. For Benjamin, the experience of the modern city—its crowds, speed, and sensory overload—was inherently shock-like, with the rhythm of urban life dictated by rapid movement and constant stimulation. Today, this condition has intensified: our environment bombards us with advertisements, cinema, and digital media, disrupting the gradual absorption of meaning and replacing contemplative engagement with immediate, compelled attention.

Film deliberately harnesses the shock effect. Through rapid cuts, montage, and abrupt scene transitions, cinema generates shock in ways that have accelerated over the decades: early films often featured shots lasting 10–15 seconds, contemporary cinema averages 2–4 seconds, and social media frequently changes visual content every 0.5–2 seconds, producing a near-constant stream of stimuli. My digital art project Mikro.Produktionen engages with this accelerated visual culture while simultaneously creating space for reflection. Each single shot varies between 1 and 10 seconds, so even a few seconds can feel extended, inviting attention to fleeting details—a feather in the wind, a subtle expression, a transient emotion. By oscillating between speed and pause, the series mirrors contemporary perceptual habits while opening moments for critical awareness and contemplative engagement.

The tension between rapid visual stimulation and contemplative experience has long been central to discussions of modern perception. For Benjamin, the “shock effect” was inherently ambivalent: while sudden, jarring stimuli carried the risk of manipulation, sensory overload, and passive distraction, they also opened the possibility for critical awareness and new ways of thinking. Today, this tension is even more pronounced. The acceleration of images—through film, digital media, and social platforms—intensifies shocks beyond what Benjamin could have imagined, contributing to the decline of sustained attention and making the slow, reflective engagement he valued increasingly rare.

As a painter, I navigate this tension through a deliberate, time-intensive practice. Each work demands careful planning, layering, composition, mixing of colors, and waiting for oil to dry—processes that reward patience and invite immersion. Similarly, the viewer’s encounter with the painting is intentional: standing before a single, still frame, they are invited to slow down, to absorb and reflect, and to experience a form of presence and perceptual depth that contrasts sharply with the rapidity of contemporary visual culture. In this way, painting becomes not only a counterpoint to acceleration but also a space in which the “aura,” in Benjamin’s terms, can be recovered.