toward him. Surprisingly, though, he is left unharmed, because he is standing exactly at the place where there is an open window in the falling wall. The bottom edge of the projection meets the floor of the installation space, so that it looks as if the wall is falling into the (real) space—or out of the installation space. This silent scene is repeated for four minutes. The splitting of the point of view represented in the image into a variety of camera angles combined with the dramaturgy of the depiction, intensified by means of the ever-increasing speed of the falling façade toward the end of the loop, causes the viewer to become increasingly, physically aware of the repeated event and insists upon the «physical tactility of the cinematic experience.« [12] Steve McQueen describes this in his own words: «Because the film is projected on the back wall of the gallery, completely covering it from ceiling to floor and from one side to the other, it has a kind of allencompassing effect. You get pulled into the event… It’s supposed to be a silent experience, because when people enter the room, they become more aware of themselves, their own breath… I’d like to put people in a situation where they are aware of themselves while

they watch the piece.» [13] This effect is emphasized by the reflection of the image on the floor of the black box, which can be freely entered by visitors, who are then allowed to experience the «space-filling» [14] resonance of the projection light as a physical reality the closer they get to the image and hence the event. Referring to James Coleman’s installations, Rosalind Krauss once stated that the physical distance between the observer and the image is lost, as in a «lightening storm.» Krauss’ statement can also be generally applied to all of the genres of art that work with light projections, because the fact that video images themselves create light in space explains their power to attract viewers when they enter the darkness. [15] The slapstick-like, yet claustrophobic, repetition of the scene in McQueen’s «Deadpan» functions as a quotation of the monotone language of actions of the 1970s, which aimed to «hit the viewer-subject in the centre of his physical presence.« [16] One could compare the moment of anxiety, felt by the viewer when the façade begins to descend in the direction of the actor with Chris Burden’s 1971 performance «Shoot,» in which Burden stands still and allows himself