(b. 1975, Chicago, IL. Lives and works in Berkeley, CA.)
My Mother’s Titanium Hip
Video, sound, 6:36 min. Best viewed in full-screen.
Jill Miller examines her mother’s unexpected death during the pandemic through the lens of “everyday” quarantine life. Even mourning and absence are digitally mediated. Temporalities shift between virtual and real, past and present, dreamy and distressing. The landscape is unstable and fantastical: error messages interrupt video transmissions, her mother’s titanium hip hovers in the background, and the coronavirus makes an appearance during a conference call.
The frenetic collage entangles and layers video conferencing fragments, 3D models, a chat with a psychic medium, and computer-generated imagery to explore the splintering of time and space during prolonged isolation. She collages the online landscape of our new digital normal, exploring an ontological shift marked by fractured connectedness, anxieties about loss and grief, a dithering between life on- and off-line, and virtually conversing with strangers and friends.