The Collapse (cinema specific texts), 16mm film transferred to DV PAL, 6'16'', sound, 2009
The Collapse registers on film (16mm) a drawing process: a hand repeatedly rips of a white sheet of paper and successively redraws, left to right across the frame, horizon lines, starting form the remains of his previous gesture. This same modus operandi gives birth to the writing of a text, which is proclaimed by the artist’s voice in a breath, as if in a stream of consciousness. The film starts with a black scree, time during which only the voice is heard in an accelerated breath. When the film projection starts teh screen is filled in white of the drawing paper.
“The air here is shared by all of us, it comes from the air conditioning conduits where the day before yesterday a man was replacing the filters. He whistled the national anthem and the sound echoed through the conduits and stifled our conversations about cinema. The anthem comes inside my nasals, I sneeze, I loose the sense of my individuality in the collective fragrance of this smell…”
“There is a man left behind, sat in a resistant chair glued to the screen to watch the sun set behind the horizon. The planet where he lives is so small that, by rewinding the film back to the beginning, the man is able to watch the sunset 43 times in a row. Then, at night, the sound of the projector is heard, and the image is again filled with light. The man rests his arms against the arms of the chair, fixes his lost gaze at the horizon and waits, in silence, the new sinking down of the sun in the horizon. He sees projected the horizon lines where expectations and desires and renewed, and in that screen oh human projection he believes he is the head of these arms, like god.”
“The air here is shared by all of us, it comes from the air conditioning conduits where the day before yesterday a man was replacing the filters. He whistled the national anthem and the sound echoed through the conduits and stifled our conversations about cinema. The anthem comes inside my nasals, I sneeze, I loose the sense of my individuality in the collective fragrance of this smell…”
“There is a man left behind, sat in a resistant chair glued to the screen to watch the sun set behind the horizon. The planet where he lives is so small that, by rewinding the film back to the beginning, the man is able to watch the sunset 43 times in a row. Then, at night, the sound of the projector is heard, and the image is again filled with light. The man rests his arms against the arms of the chair, fixes his lost gaze at the horizon and waits, in silence, the new sinking down of the sun in the horizon. He sees projected the horizon lines where expectations and desires and renewed, and in that screen oh human projection he believes he is the head of these arms, like god.”
(excerpts of narration)
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