Upon its debut at the Sundance Film Festival’s New Frontier section, The 107 Minutes Collection sparked fierce debate. Some critics hailed it as “a masterpiece of durational intimacy” ( Artforum ), while others dismissed it as “navel-gazing performance art disguised as sociology” ( The New York Critic ). The most significant controversy arose over ownership. After the exhibition closed, Vicky filed a legal claim asserting that the 107-minute audio recording constituted a “private conversation” and that Freeman required her signature to exhibit it. Freeman countersued for “artistic co-authorship,” stating that Vicky had previously signed a waiver. The legal battle, which lasted nearly as long as the collection’s original runtime, ironically became a performative extension of the project itself. As of this writing, the collection exists in a legal gray zone, available only in a “commemorative bootleg” edition self-published by Vicky.
The dynamic between Freeman and Vicky is the collection’s true subject. Vicky is not a muse in the classical sense (passive, idealized, silent). Instead, she counters Freeman’s visual authority with linguistic authority. Throughout the transcript section of the collection, Vicky refuses to answer Freeman’s direct questions, instead offering non-sequiturs or reciting grocery lists. This resistance is a deliberate strategy to sabotage the artist’s attempt at psychological extraction. As Vicky writes in the collection’s afterword: “You wanted 107 minutes of my soul. I gave you 107 minutes of my Tuesday.” This inversion of expectations positions The 107 Minutes Collection as a feminist intervention. It critiques the voyeuristic tradition of male photographers (and by extension, any artist who objectifies their subject) by insisting that the subject retains the right to obfuscate. Kylie Freeman Vicky The 107 Minutes Collection
“I love projects that let me play a version of myself that’s more layered—where there’s a story to tell, not just a scene to shoot.” Upon its debut at the Sundance Film Festival’s
The collection is framed as a “day‑in‑the‑life” anthology where each episode follows Kylie and Vicky tackling a distinct, relatable challenge (e.g., “Moving Day,” “Cooking for One,” “First‑Time Hiking”). While the episodes contain light humor and occasional flirtatious banter, all scenes are scripted to remain within a non‑explicit, family‑friendly rating. After the exhibition closed, Vicky filed a legal
The 107 Minutes Collection marks an exciting milestone in the careers of Kylie Freeman and Vicky. As they continue to create and innovate, it will be interesting to see how their music evolves and how they build upon the success of this collection. With their combined talents and dedication to their craft, the future looks bright for these two music artists.
Critics have compared the experience to Georges Perec’s constrained writing or Christian Marclay’s The Clock —art that makes time palpable.