Cardiff's video-guided wandering through the halls and white walls of SFMoma alternates between Brechtian style detachment and hyper-suspension of disbelief. The result is a feeling of euphoria, but the work also leads to reflections on the mnemonics of time and space. It seems to accomplish this impossible conflation by splitting one's attention in two, part looking at the video camera screen and part looking at the physical world as it passes by. Comparing snapshots of attention can make traversing a spectator filled museum a harrowing endeavor. There are moments of reprieve from the people dodging, however, when Cardiff turns toward the out-of-bounds areas of the museum or stops the tour to soak in a soulful choral number. These well-tested emotion triggers are cribbed from her many audio tours, where Cardiff accumulated the necessary ingredients for a spine tingle or a warm sigh.

Some of the most notable features of the re-presentation of the video tour (the work has been available once before during the 010101 show at SFMoma in 2001) are the result of changes within the museum. Walking through the galleries and stairways during the tour one encounters the afterimage of de-installed artworks and a new arrangement of desks in the lobby. These ghostly overlays add to the destabilizing effects of the work and enrich its overall meaning.

Best to go on a Friday, because that's when the (tall dark) man behind the counter who will trade you a video camera for your drivers license is revealed as a double-agent, a character in the drama. I promise you when you go to return the video tour equipment 15 minutes later you won't look at him the same way.