England holds the record for the most surveillance cameras in one territory. The development of new digital technologies has allowed the installation of sophisticated equipment for monitoring inhabitants, sometimes without their knowledge. Legislation has been put in place to guarantee individuals access to the digital traces they leave, but also to protect their private lives.

Based on an analysis of the legal aspects of the system, in 2002, Manu Luksch carried out a number of experiments under the name of Spy School, in order to “watch those that are watching us”. This project was followed by the publication of the Manifesto for CCTV [1] filmmakers. This text asks film producers to make films not with their own material, but with recordings from selected surveillance cameras in the city. After receiving a written request and a payment of ten pounds, all surveillance companies must provide the files to any person who appears on camera, while ensuring the anonymity of any other people in the images. It was by following the rules of the manifesto that the mid-length documentary Faceless was produced. This science-fiction film imagines a society dominated by fear. Constant surveillance has led to the disappearance of notions of identity and history, replacing them with a present that is permanently fragmented, and which prevents any form of anxiety by constantly maintaining the present time. The main thread of the film operates as a tautology of the function of video surveillance, which is an unidentified duplicate of reality, as all the faces on the screen are covered with dots in order to preserve their anonymity. Played by the artist and recognisable on-screen thanks to her white overalls, the heroine is initially without a face or a past (as is the whole of society), but gradually recovers her history as parts of her face become visible in reflections. While discovering her past, it is the desire to reconnect with others that haunts her – she is looking for her child, who was taken from her. For the artist, “surveillance is the opposite of dialogue” [2], it leads to this dehumanisation, which the artist highlights using the tools of a paranoid society.

Through her use of the huge database of visuals from surveillance cameras, Luksch plays with the phenomenal increase in the flow of images – many more than can possibly be watched. For the artist, this database is a “legal readymade” that allows her to produce a low-cost film and bypass traditional film production systems. By preserving the original image with the timecodes and location text on it, Luksch includes the viewer in the surveillance system. The information inlaid on screen disturbs the narrative continuity by indicating jumps in time. The mediocre quality of the images is heterogeneous - ranging from black and white to colour, and from overexposed to scrambled. The city loses its identity, with no positive aspects or harmony, consisting of narrow corridors, car parks, and malls. We enter a disturbing world, where paranoia rules.

Patricia Maincent

[1] CCTV (Closed-Circuit Television) are systems of video surveillance.

[2] From an interview with Marie Lechner, Libération, 19 September 2007.