Judith Hopf’s films, sculptures and various collaborative projects suggest not so much a deconstruction of power structures, authority and behavioural codes as a demonic possession of them.
Her films, which invariably feature the artist herself, veer between a straight-faced analysis of everyday conventions and an infiltration of the absurd. The tendency of ordinary people to conform to expectations is upset by the release of an apparently counteractive impulse: public sculptures walk, passers-by erupt into choreographed dance numbers and the dead hold monologues on ‘live’ TV, while limping patients, bandaged bodies and X-ray skeletons perform electro-dance moves in hospital corridors. The return of the repressed? Or a reflection of the everyday awkward duality of personal identity, the constant struggle for correspondence between the body’s outward appearance and its interior thought processes?