Teresa Hubbard and Alexander Birchler, Night Shift, 2006
HD video with sound, single-channel projection. Installation dimensions variable, video: 8 min 24 sec (looped)
Courtesy the David and Indrė Roberts Collection
Said leave me to lay, but touch me deep
I don’t sleep, I dream
I’ll settle for a cup of coffee, but you know what I really need
— R.E.M. (1994)
It’s a cliché of American popular culture that probably holds some truth: police officers fuelling their long shifts with multiple cups of coffee. However, in the video work by Teresa Hubbard and Alexander Birchler, one of the officers on Night Shift duty, who we soon learn is called Sam, is actually dozing off in his police car whilst his colleague is off ordering the black liquid that is supposed to keep him awake.
The drink’s arrival — Sam drinks it with 'two sugars and no cream'— starts a sequence of encounters that fluctuate between seeming real or imagined, as different co-workers step into the driver’s seat besides Sam. It has a feeling of Groundhog Day; same car, same shift, same sleepiness, new person, same topic of conversation. The surrounding noises enhance this sense of repetition, as crickets chirp their night song and a constant 'we got a 40/01' police code crackles through over the radio. Every colleague gets in, passes over the cup and launches into a monologue touching on the subject of sleep. Policeman Sam, in his still snoozy state, robotically takes the cup with a 'thanks' and then nods, laughs or simply listens to the different inner reflections that are shared with him. There are musings on the difference between 'real dreams' as opposed to 'being a star or buying a house' or on how that small slippage where you still consciously realise you are falling asleep is 'THE most perfect moment.' ‘Real’ dreams, but with lucidity.
This moving image work is intended to be viewed on a loop, meaning there is a conscious play with repetition in the actions but also through this potentially perpetual cycle of moments and exchanges. It blurs an understanding of how time is passing. Is this an actual nocturnal work scene over several nights or we are witnessing a dream about dreams?
In the film Groundhog Day (1993), Bill Murray portrays Phil Connors, a TV weatherman who slowly loses his mind in the small town of Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania as it dawns on him that the perfect endless repetition of his day is in fact not a dream; he is stuck in a loop. As all days become the same, the combination of structured repetition with an endless amalgamation of each moment into one undistinguishable mass, sees Phil struggle to come to terms with his newfound actuality and attempts ways to better himself within it; a situation, one could argue, not completely dissimilar to the housebound reality many of us are currently living through. Incidentally, this comparison is something many internet memes have already taken some glee in pointing out. So, watching Sam and Phil adrift in a semi-conscious, hazy dream state, a kind of suspended reality, begs the question; what exactly is the point of dreaming? Especially reliving recurring ones?
On average a person has around five dreams a night, most of which are never remembered. Dreams tend to last longer further into the night, with most occurring during REM (rapid eye movement) sleep, which is also the terrain for ‘lucid dreams.’ Whilst this term was only coined in the early 20th century, the state of being aware of dreaming and deliberately taking some control of the dream’s narrative has been referenced throughout history, for instance popping up in Aristotle, Tibetan Buddhism and Samuel Pepys’ diary.
Subjected to frenzied debate, notably amongst Freud and fellow psychoanalysts, recurring dreams in particular are often seen as indicative of something; the onset of fever or even the processing of trauma. Freud in particular made a big point of relating this recurrence to perceived ‘problems’ in the human psyche, whereas lucid dream theory maintains that it is a perfectly normal phenomenon. In his book The Sleepwalkers: A History of Man’s Changing Vision of the Universe (1959) political essayist Arthur Koestler argues that there are positive outcomes to take away from what our unconsciousness might be trying to tell us. He writes that the irrational mind can help us to find creative solutions, particularly when attempting to make intellectual gains in scientific problems. Surrendering control to irrationality, sleepwalking through the day, is actually a state where new discoveries can emerge. Dream big.