Sunday, 29 January 2012

Unknown Window Project

video


This was taken impulsively on a lone wet walk up the hill after visiting the 'Our Summer' exhibition, some inglorious December evening. Visitors will surely know by now that I can't unflinchingly walk by a lit window. Those pitiful little jumps won't be helped.

The music is Yann Tiersen's 'L'Etai' from the lovely album Tout Est Calme. It fits not seamlessly, in the way that they were not each made with the other in mind. I didn't shoot to put images to the music and vice versa, rather the sort of sad foreboding feeling seemed appropriate, certainly with those little stringed, almost hopeful lines, somehow.

As with most of the Other things I've forced together, it is not brilliantly or even lucidly thought out, if not only for the fact that it does not need to be.

I'm hoping not to sound self-important, I just don't think there has to be an explanatory guideline to everything ever.

(I am also not overtly technologically capable, patient, or indeed that enthusiastic in these exercises as a whole, they are merely that, an exercise, though I'm not fast to dismiss an occasional lifting of a brow or lip corner, an almost imperceptible nod)

Travel Guide...?




After leafing not 1/2 way through Gerhard Richter's Atlas earlier in a bookshop waiting for insp26 (and infringing countless copyrights by using phone photos of the mans' own stolen and appropriated stills, taken from a book I hadn't paid for), I remembered that 2 weeks ago, alone in a room with some scraps of a 'book' waiting to be assembled, I had taken some less than great quality photographs (indeed using a popular Mac-application!), for the purpose of display here while my scanner taunts me in exile.






Here are some, sincere enough apologies to mention the terrible quality, evidently not sincere enough to prevent me in sharing.





Despite confusing and annoying angles, due in part to reflected light from Mac's display and the slightly landscaped framing of the Photobooth, the idealised final book of a thing will be in portrait format.




At this point we're really looking at the invertebrate's shell.






I regret insisting on appearing so, so facially in the things, but again, not enough to (untidily I fear) crop myself out or re-take.



So that's where it's at. There are more pages of course, but these are the lucky scamps that got to be backlit up here.