What seems to have unwittingly emerged in this exhibition is a pained sense of exuberance—an ever present link between sheer joy and sorrowful despair.

Sonia Balassanian presents two adjacent video projections in her work, Untitled, 1997. In the first, a pure primordial revelry of life is conveyed vy a naked man who is crawling around on the ground. as if unsure of his right to do so, however, the man repeatedly crawls into womb-like holes, reemerging each time confronted with the same intuited question: can 1 revel in life and my continued rebirths, or must 1 deny myself this joy? In the companion video, one is drawn in and intrigued by the beautiful physique of a man's exposed torso, only to become shocked and repulsed by the ritualistic and repetitive gestures of pain he is inflicting on himself. In an alternating companion video, intimate acts of touching and stroking seem to be portrayed, however Upon Closer examination, one finds instead to be watching Close-ups of a butcher skinning a lamb.

Atom Egoyan's installation is an overlay of 16mm film projected over video images on a television monitor. The eerie results appear as ghost-like images from the dead past, ar as hazy premonitions of the future. In the video, a Portrait of Arshil e, 1995, the obvious love expressed by two parents (Egoyan and his wife) to their one year o1d son is burdened by the imposed sense of suffering and tragedy which permeated the life of the artist, Arshile Gorky (after whom the child was named). Projected Upon this video in a multi-panel grid, the film shows optically treated excerpts representing the Armenian genocide from Elia Kazan's epic movie, America, America. In his statement, Egoyan calls this work ? "meditation on reconstructed history," and explains that with his visual manipulations of the images, he is "re-appropriating (his) own imagined experience of the horror by distorting the Hol1ywood version". He is exploiting a filmmaker's fascination of film's oblique relationship with reality in order to explore his own removed relationship with those historical events.

Arman Grigorian's paintings seem to have exploded into existence—both in the vigorous brushwork by which the paint was applied, as well as the scrappy after-the-blast 1ook of the finished canvases. In his triptych, This is What Will Remain Tomorrow of Which Existed Yesterday, 1997, as almost an afterthought of the exuberance by which he applied the paint, it is then painstakingly peeled away in obsessive quixotic patterns. In this act of peeling away and revealing that which had been previous1y covered, there is sense of realities being exposed and truths being revealed. This, in contrast to the preponderance of covered-up and altered perceptions is an issue of particular importance to the artist.

Azat Sarkissian seems through his work to revere the varied forms of media. In Memories of the Future, 1997, he makes clear, however, that the information being churned out with media is for the most part incommunicative and under suspicion. His interchangeable use of "high" and "low" art in his multi-media installations relates his view of the arbitrariness existent in the "stuff" of art and the perceptions of it. Here, Sarkissian uses a projector to beem words over a motley aray of found objects which have been piled into the space. In one instance, the beamed words act as a sort of lighted camouflage on the sad assembly of detritus. It seems to project an image of hope over these objects of neglect and failure. Upon trying to read the projected pages of a book, however, the words of the text are illegible, for not only are their letters blurred beyond recognition, but they are also in an indistinguishable language, so as to prove completely incomprehensible.

Stepan Veranian imbues his work with poetic subtleties, which give strength to his quiet and seemingly unassuming installations. Untitled, 1997, reveals his obsession with the ideal of culture tempered with his observations of reality's shortcomings—the crux of his artistic dialogue. The lofty position of "culture" is subverted in this context of simple, stoic elements, such as dirt and discarded bottles. a thick layer of soil scattered about the gallery floor serves as a desolate setting for randomly placed transparent drawings and sparse pieces of debris. These vague symbolic artifacts appearr as cultural scraps. They can be construed as either half unearthed half buried. Thus, Veranian expresses the dichotomy between culture emerging, and its constant risk of being purged and forgotten.