In a certain way, the humour that permeates Campanilla’s video performances, which always take place within the context of her own home, immediately makes us think of the games we used to play as children, of those times when a corner of our bedroom could be turned into a dangerous jungle, or a couch could be made to be a ship about to sink in the middle of an ocean full of sharks threatening to come out of the screen and devour us. El tecolote is precisely this: a flower pot, abandoned in a balcony, that, all of a sudden, talks and sings; communicates and becomes alive. We hear a Mexican popular song, a ranchera, slightly distorted - it is not exactly a cover in the traditional sense -, coming out of a cheap copy, a tacky cultural representation of a souvenir, a decorative object, mass produced and of very bad quality. Two mariachis with their sombreros, guitar and bottle in hand, made out of shells, who are personal friends of the artist, show enjoyment and pleasure. They know that this afternoon on this ordinary day will always be remembered as something else, something more, thanks to Campanilla’s special touch, which graces all her videos.
In this video all the visual effects are shown openly, the manipulations on the image are for everyone to see. This, paradoxically, makes us even more conscious that there is something in our everyday lives which we cannot see but which is nevertheless there, that everyday life is not as they make it out to be, nor as we see it. Everyday life can be, if we so wish, a strange game whereby no thing plays the function for which it was produced.
Seriously, this video is a joke. A serious joke.