The ancient Greeks divided the night into four sections; the last watch before morning was called the fourth watch. In the hours before dawn, an endless succession of rooms is inhabited by silent film figures occupying the flickering space in a mid-century house made of printed tin. Their presence is at once inevitable and uncanny: a boy turns his head in dread; the eyes of a woman look askance; a sleepwalker reaches into a cabinet that dissolves with her touch; hands write letters behind ephemeral windows. The rooms reveal themselves and fill with impossible, shadowed light. It is not clear who is watching and who is trespassing in this nocturnal drama of lost souls.
"A small masterpiece of the uncanny brought about through beautifully controlled use of superimposition and scale and a cross breeding of 'incompatible' species of texture and (cathode) light. Glacial blue poltergeist-somnambulists, melodramatic stars and damaged children from silent films emerge at night into a tin dollhouse opening up invisible envelopes of space, commingling with hypnotic chiaroscuro cast by trembling sunlight.” - Mark McElhatten, Views from the Avant Garde [New York Film Festival]
Under erratic skies, a solitary figure navigates a landscape of constructed nature and broken bones. She peers through a decaying aperture, waiting and watching: the fragility of the body is exposed for what it is: ephemeral, liquid, a battlefield of nervous dreams. Using found and natural objec...
Junk mail detritus forms a handicraft salute to new media. The third part of the UNSUBSCRIBE series.
Frenetic and impressionistic, this nocturnal foray through San Francisco's streets (heightened by a stop at a nightclub) delivers a thrill-hit of ebullient adrenaline. The rush of excitement, of anonymity, of adventure, of being alive, of potentially meeting someone new is palpable. Somewhere in ...