Both aspects of the work aim to impress us with their insensitivity: the artless polish of the images offends our taste while the caption’s conceptual commitment wears us out. When their marriage comes into focus the room begins to feel claustrophobic.
Eventually, Conner grew apathetic of amassing praise for his assemblage work and returned to an early love of cinema. In 1958, friend and filmmaker Larry Jordan taught Conner how to splice film. Unable to afford a camera or film stock, he salvaged several hundred feet of “used” newsreel, instructional film, commercial stock and narrative features at a photography shop. What came of those reels thrust him deeper into the art-world limelight and made a lasting impact on American experimental film.