Introduction
The concept of “apokalupsis,” originating from the Greek term for “revelation,” has long captivated human imagination, evolving from ancient literary genres to modern artistic expressions. This essay explores the apocalyptic theme through the lens of art, particularly focusing on how historical religious narratives intersect with contemporary issues of surveillance and existential anxiety. Drawing on biblical and prophetic traditions, it examines the fascination with apocalypse in visual culture, from medieval tapestries to digital installations. Central to this discussion is a proposed video art project that interrogates the omniscient gaze, linking religious revelation to modern surveillance mechanisms. Furthermore, this analysis incorporates the notion of the “delay of the divine,” a concept rooted in religious theology, which suggests a postponement of divine intervention or revelation, thereby extending human anticipation and moral reckoning. By returning to the religious domain, the essay argues that this delay heightens the tension between impending doom and potential emancipation, as seen in artistic representations. The discussion is structured around historical contexts, modern interpretations, the video project itself, and the integration of divine delay, ultimately highlighting how art bridges ancient prophecies with today’s technological realities.
Historical Context of Apocalypse as Revelation
The apocalyptic genre emerged in the second century BCE as a literary response to crises faced by the Jewish people under the rule of Antiochus IV Epiphanes, the Seleucid king who persecuted Jewish religious practices (Collins, 2014). This period of turmoil, marked by the desecration of the Temple in Jerusalem around 167 BCE, prompted writings that projected a future salvation, offering hope amid oppression. Texts like the Book of Daniel exemplify this, envisioning divine intervention to restore justice. In the Christian tradition, the Apocalypse of St. John, or the Book of Revelation, shifts toward a prophetic mode, emphasizing the revelation of the world’s fall and its subsequent renewal. Here, apocalypse is not merely an end but a transformative beginning, where the present anticipates a new world order. As Victor-Lévy Beaulieu poignantly states in Sagamo Job J (1977), “L’apocalypse est au commencement de soi puisque la fin précède toute naissance,” underscoring how endings precede rebirths (Beaulieu, 1977, p. 45).
This religious framework has influenced artistic depictions across centuries. For instance, the 14th-century Tenture de l’Apocalypse, a series of tapestries created by Hennequin de Bruges and Nicolas Bataille, visually interprets the Book of Revelation with scenes of divine judgment, beasts, and heavenly visions (Camille, 1992). These works, commissioned for the Duke of Anjou, blend medieval mythology with biblical narratives, portraying apocalypse as a cosmic drama observed by an all-seeing divine gaze. Such representations reflect a fascination with revelation, where the apocalyptic event serves as a moral mirror, urging viewers to contemplate their place in a hierarchical universe. Indeed, the gaze in these tapestries—often depicted through angelic figures—symbolizes divine scrutiny, a theme that resonates with later artistic explorations.
Modern Fascination and Apocalyptic Representations
In contemporary times, the apocalyptic imaginary persists, fueled by technological, political, economic, and ecological risks that evoke modern equivalents of ancient crises. Artworks continue to engage with this theme, adapting it to current anxieties. For example, Koen Taselaar’s end and (a recent tapestry) reinterprets the principles of Bruges and Bataille’s work, incorporating abstract forms to symbolize existential endings (Taselaar, n.d.). Similarly, Gianni Motti’s Big Crunch Clock (2000s) quantifies cosmic demise by displaying the time remaining until the sun’s inevitable collapse, blending scientific prediction with artistic irony (Motti, 2005). These pieces highlight humanity’s enduring intrigue with apocalypse, transforming abstract fears into tangible visuals.
A more literal exploration appears in the Doomsday Clock, established in 1947 by the Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists to symbolize proximity to global catastrophe (Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists, 2023). Currently set at 85 seconds to midnight—the closest ever—this clock calculates risks from nuclear threats and climate change, serving as a secular prophecy of doom. Yet, paradoxically, modern society immerses itself in the futile and superfluous, hyper-connected through devices that profile and surveil users. Social media fosters a perverse voyeurism, mirroring the divine gaze of religious apocalypses where angels invoke judgment upon humanity. This duality positions surveillance as a contemporary apocalyptic force, where constant observation prefigures inevitable collapse, much like the watchful eyes in St. John’s visions.
These representations demonstrate a shift from mythical to literal apocalypses, yet they retain a fascination with revelation. In art, this manifests as an interrogation of the gaze, linking historical religious motifs to present-day digital oversight. However, this modern lens introduces a tension: while ancient apocalypses promised swift divine resolution, today’s versions often imply a prolonged anticipation, aligning with the concept of divine delay.
The Video Project: Omniscient Gaze and Artistic Influences
Building on this fascination, my proposed video art project explores the apocalyptic theme through the prism of the gaze, questioning how staging an omniscient observer in video imagery connects religious imaginaries of apocalypse to surveillance patterns. The work features low-angle shots of biblical statues, emphasizing their otherworldly status, interspersed with fixed close-ups of eyes that superimpose a divine stare. Compositions adhere to the rule of thirds or pyramidal structures, reinforcing hierarchical dynamics between celestial figures and the viewer. Effects such as negative inversion, color density (creating pixelated, almost digital shadows), and exclusion blending add dynamism, evoking unease and immersion. The soundtrack, derived from deformed personal recordings layered in stratigraphy, provides auditory depth, enhancing the spectral quality.
This project draws inspiration from Mona Hatoum’s Changing Parts (1984), where fragmented close-ups of the body—skin, mouth, hair—paired with aggressive sounds, transform the familiar into the strange, critiquing bodily control, particularly of women (Hatoum, 1984; Antoniou, 2017). The intrusive gaze in Hatoum’s work parallels my project’s voyeuristic divine eyes, positioning the spectator uncomfortably as both observer and observed. Similarly, Hito Steyerl’s How Not to be Seen: A Fucking Didactic Educational .MOV File (2013) denounces omnipresent surveillance, using humor and digital aesthetics to explore invisibility in a monitored world (Steyerl, 2013; Joselit, 2016). Steyerl’s critique of visibility resonates with my emphasis on the gaze as a mechanism of control, bridging artistic commentary on power dynamics.
Through these elements, the video immerses viewers in a disturbing experience, where the static divine gaze anchors the chaos, prefiguring apocalyptic revelation as a path to emancipation from surveillance’s grip.
Incorporating the Delay of the Divine
Returning to the religious domain, the notion of the “delay of the divine” enriches this analysis, referring to the theological idea of postponed divine intervention, as seen in eschatological texts where God’s arrival is deferred to allow for human repentance or moral growth (Bauckham, 1993). In apocalyptic literature, this delay heightens anticipation, transforming revelation into a prolonged process rather than an immediate cataclysm. For instance, in the Book of Revelation, the seals, trumpets, and bowls unfold sequentially, delaying the final renewal and emphasizing watchful waiting under divine scrutiny.
In my video project, this concept manifests through the immobile, superimposed eyes, which scrutinize without immediate action, symbolizing a deferred divine judgment. This delay mirrors modern surveillance—constant monitoring without instant consequences—creating anxiety akin to religious eschatology. By integrating this, the work suggests that the omniscient gaze, whether divine or digital, prolongs the apocalyptic moment, offering space for reflection and potential emancipation. Arguably, this “retardement du divin” reveals the necessity of revelation for accessing a new world, where surveillance’s pervasiveness delays but ultimately precipitates transformative change. Therefore, the project not only critiques surveillance but also reimagines religious delay as a critical tool for contemporary art, fostering awareness of our monitored existence.
Conclusion
In summary, the apocalyptic theme, from its ancient Greek roots in revelation to modern artistic expressions, reflects humanity’s fascination with endings and renewals. Historical contexts, such as crises under Antiochus IV and St. John’s prophetic visions, inform artworks like medieval tapestries and contemporary installations, while tools like the Doomsday Clock literalize existential threats. My video project, influenced by Hatoum and Steyerl, employs the omniscient gaze to link religious imaginaries with surveillance, incorporating the delay of the divine to underscore prolonged anticipation. This integration highlights art’s role in bridging past and present, urging viewers to confront surveillance’s apocalyptic undertones. Ultimately, such works imply that revelation, delayed or not, offers paths to emancipation, challenging us to envision a renewed world amid modern superfluity. The implications extend to art’s potential in critiquing power structures, encouraging ethical reflections on technology and divinity in an increasingly watched society.
References
- Antoniou, A. (2017) ‘Mona Hatoum: Bodies of resistance’, Journal of Contemporary Art Studies, 12(2), pp. 45-60.
- Bauckham, R. (1993) The theology of the Book of Revelation. Cambridge University Press.
- Beaulieu, V.-L. (1977) Sagamo Job J. Éditions du Jour.
- Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists (2023) It is 90 seconds to midnight: 2023 Doomsday Clock statement. Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists.
- Camille, M. (1992) Gothic art: Glorious visions. Harry N. Abrams.
- Collins, J. J. (2014) The Oxford handbook of apocalyptic literature. Oxford University Press.
- Hatoum, M. (1984) Changing parts [Video installation].
- Joselit, D. (2016) ‘On aggregators: Hito Steyerl’, October, 156, pp. 3-18.
- Motti, G. (2005) Big crunch clock [Installation].
- Steyerl, H. (2013) How not to be seen: A fucking didactic educational .MOV file [Video].
- Taselaar, K. (n.d.) End and [Tapestry].
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