ABSTRACT
I keep a videotape on my shelf that I have never viewed but that I can scarcely imagine parting with. Being in Betacam format, this tape is smaller than all the others on my shelf by an inch or two. It stands metaphorically alone, diminutive in stature, mysterious in contents. I do not own a Betacam playback system, nor does anyone I know. Judging from its peeling label, the tape contains moving images of my friend Joah Lowe, who died of AIDS in 1988. I am aware that I should give this tape to an archive where it would be preserved. Seasonal temperature changes are no doubt rendering the tape brittle, and long years without being rewound may be causing my friend’s image to leak and shadow. In fact, I am certain I must give this tape to a library one day, but in the meantime I keep it on my shelf, because it contains the remains of someone I once loved. I keep it because it is a fetish.
