Upon entering Peter Campus's exhibition at The Phillips Collection in Washington, D.C., an intense gaze meets the viewer. A man stares directly, his pronounced eyebrows contributing to the powerful expression.
The video, titled Head of a Man with Death on His Mind (1978), reveals a contemplative figure who occasionally swallows and blinks sparingly. Set against a stark white backdrop, his face is illuminated in a chiaroscuro style, captured in black-and-white. Questions arise: Is he reflecting on his mortality, a loved one's passing, or simply grappling with sorrow? The stillness is captivating, despite the lack of action.
Creating this piece in his early 40s, Campus now, at 88, likely contemplates mortality differently than he did at 41. The first generation of video artists has seen many of its members depart, bringing a new depth to his reflections on life and loss.
Roland Barthes once noted the camera's intrinsic connection to death, freezing moments that slip away even as they are captured. Photographs serve as poignant reminders of life and absence intertwined.
While Head of a Man with Death on His Mind is a video rather than a photograph, its movement is minimal. The work's cyclical nature defies traditional narrative structure, lacking a clear beginning, middle, or end.
In a nearby room, four videos showcase the landscapes of Long Island, where Campus resides. These looping images evoke the different passage of time experienced by nature compared to the contemplative man depicted earlier. Together, these videos form the Philips Quartet (2023-24), which reflects Campus's thoughts on "the special light on eastern Long Island," as stated in the exhibition catalog.
Throughout his career, Campus has explored themes of self-reflection and humility, evident in his choice of lowercase letters and iconic works like Three Transitions (1973). In one memorable scene, he appears to erase his own face, only for another image of him to emerge, showcasing his innovative editing techniques. This captivating approach invites viewers to witness the artist's hand at work, making the experience feel genuine rather than contrived.
In the exhibition catalog, curator John G. Handhart expresses his admiration for Campus's late-style works, describing them as a culmination of his artistic journey. Fifty years later, his focus on the land represents an even deeper humility. One video from the quartet, Blessingway (2024), was created during a solar eclipse and embodies a Navajo concept of harmony with nature. Another piece, There Somewhere (2023), captures Campus's exploration of shallow waters, reflecting his quest for meaning. He muses, "I started with a great ego eager to make my mark; reflecting on it all today I feel profound modesty."