MasterMind Award, Film/video /new media Andrea Flamini

Andrea Flamini’s studio on 18th Street is cluttered in much the same way that his films are — the stark visual imagery and dark theatrics may seem nearly insurmountable, but it doesn’t take long to notice a line of cohesion.

In one of his newer offerings, ashortmovieaboutnothing, the magazines and books and compact discs that clutter everyone’s lives resurrect themselves in the form of a deer head with human arms, a Roman skyline and the creepiest carousel ever. The viewer must seek out the story, but then it becomes almost laughably obvious: In their constant search for happiness, people often find that they are on a merry-go-round that refuses to stop.

It may be a feeling that he understands too well. Since 2003, Flamini has headed up the digital filmmaking program at the Kansas City Art Institute, a job that involves six-hour teaching sessions, faculty conferences and one-on-one sessions with students. He paints. He films. He spends untold hours editing footage and breaking his brain with computer code.

At any given time, his work may be playing at art galleries and museums, alternative cinemas and independent film houses in Japan, Germany, France or Brazil. He’s particularly fond of Brazil’s Galeria De Arte Do Sesi, where he’s been showing for nearly four years.

That’s no easy task, considering the complexity of his installations.

Each is supposed to be a five-channel video setup. Picture a pentagon viewed from above. The walls of the pentagon are enormous screens; in the center are five projectors, each showing a chapter of the film. Walking around the pentagon and watching each screen puts the viewer in the middle of Flamini’s art.

To see this work, you’ll likely have to travel. Screenings are hard to pull off because of space constraints and cost. “It costs about $6,000,” Flamini says. “The screens are huge.” Kansas City lacks a consistent venue with the room or the financing to take on such a project.

Given these constraints, Flamini has resigned himself to making linear, single-channel films that can be put on DVD and shown anywhere. Stripping down his work has allowed him to show locally at the H&R Block ArtSpace and the Nelson-Atkins Museum of Art’s Electromediascope screenings. It’s not his preferred method, but as long as it gets his work out there, he’ll deal with it.

“I’m glad I’m doing it, and I will continue to do it,” he says. “Look at it this way: If that can be a shortcut to get them to see the installation, all of the uninterrupted versions, then so be it.”

Lately, Flamini has been working with two forms, which he calls “impromptus” and “melodramas.”

His impromptus are short loops of film that depict a particular emotional state. In one disturbing impromptu, an old woman rubs spastically at her face for several minutes. For the viewer, it provokes a compelling discomfort and the growing urge to scratch. Flamini’s masterful technique transfers the anxiety from the screen to the audience.

Melodramas are longer pieces that deal with the deconstruction of drama. To the uninitiated, these 12 multilayered chapters may appear to be unrelated clips of mixed subject matter, but every frame has a specific meaning, and together they tell a story. Each piece takes great effort and precision to film and seemingly interminable hours to edit.

“First and foremost, the work for me is about content,” he says. “In fact, in a lot of my work, I try to hide the technology as much as possible. You don’t know what’s going on behind it all.”

Though he has worked around the world and his art is visible from Istanbul to Paris, he calls Kansas City home. It’s time for audiences in his own city to learn what the rest of the world already knows. — Brandon Leftridge