Archives: Videos

  • L21ST

    L21ST

    Year:

    1993

    Duration:

    13:21

    Recorded:

    1993

    Surfing on Sine Waves

    “In the night of Brahma, Nature is inert and cannot dance till Shiva wills it. He rises from his rapture and – dancing – sends through inert matter pulsing waves of awakening sound, and lo! matter also dances, appearing as a glory around him. Dancing, he sustains its manifold phenomena. In the fullness of time, still dancing, he destroys all forms and names by fire and gives new rest. This is poetry; but none the less, science” – Ananda Coomeraswamy.

    An Anecdote


    In August 1992 I arrived in Copenhagen to start my studies at the Royal Danish Academy of Fine Arts. Despite the hospitality of my hosts, and the excitement of getting to know the country, I experienced the difficulties faced by every immigrant – when one’s language, cultural references and practical knowledge, suddenly become obsolete.

    During my second month there, I visited the Danish National Museum, where I saw Scandinavian rock art for the first time. The experience struck me like a bolt of lightning.

    I had for a long time been interested in Southern African rock art through the incredible work of David Lewis-Williams. An important take-away from his various books, was his connecting certain archaic graphic designs or glyphs to entoptic phenomena.
    As a long-time sufferer of Tinnitus, I appreciate how even the sober human body self-generates visual and auditory phenomena. 1

    What struck me, that autumn day in Copenhagen, were the similarities between the pictographs of the seemingly diverse Southern African and Scandinavian cultures.
    It was a revelation to appreciate the true universality of archaic glyphs and patterns; and to realise that the one thing all humanity shared, was the same nervous and sensory system which inspired them.

    From my very first experiments with generating and modulating sound waves using analogue synthesisers; and creating video feedback; I instinctively felt that these processes tapped into the same, self-generating, “live-wire” of the human sensory and nervous system.
    Both the video and audio components of L21ST are improvisations – created in one take without edits or revisions. Improvising in this way, is almost like being at the threshold – the fountainhead – of the Cosmic matrix – taking part in Shiva’s dance.

    Video Feedback

    For the catalogue to AIDS: The Exhibition 2 in 1992, I had made a photocopy work called The Anarchists.
    Basically I had, using a photocopier, enlarged a photo of some anarchist squatters. In its turn, the resulting photocopy was then enlarged again, and again, until – after many generations of “zooming in” – the sheet was either pure black or pure white.
    This is essentially the same looping, scaling algorithm seen in video or audio feedback 3.
    One can experience this process In daily life when stepping into an elevator – or room – with mirrors on opposing walls – where you find yourself in an endless loop of reflections – in this case, getting smaller and smaller.

    In most video feedback, each image is an enlargement of its predecessor – and at 25 frames per second, the resulting visual surge is often like a headlong rush into the whiteout/blackout void of chaos.
    In fact, fractal-like images, familiar from the study of chaos theory, spontaneously appear. There is even a moment reminiscent of Hokusai’s The Great Wave off Kanagawa. This is unsurprising since most natural processes are based on recurring or feedback algorithms. Timelapse recordings of clouds – for example – can look remarkably similar.
    And just like like any ‘overheated’ or chaotic system, total annihilation of the status quo could set in at any moment.
    In his book Chaos, James Gleick describes a waterwheel, turning slowly in a steady flow of water. As the water-flow increases, the wheel spins faster and faster and faster until, at an unpredictable moment, the wheel suddenly starts turning against the rush of water.
    Similarly, if left to continue uninfluenced, the visual surge of video feedback could either stop, blackout, or whiteout at any moment.
    In the case of L21st, I was actively ‘steering’ (by panning and tilting) the camera through the feedback vortices – surfing on the cusp of chaos.

    L21ST isn’t a “pure” feedback recording. In addition to me adding simple in-camera graphic overlays – like the “Swiss cheese holes” – the camera output went through a video mixer before going to the monitor. This meant that I could spontaneously change the colour and add simple effects – like mosaic blocks – to the image. In addition, I could combine two differently-processed channels of the stream using simply picture-in-picture or dissolve transitions. This visual electronic flux was recorded straight onto tape.

    Sound Wave Generators & Oscillators

    Two weeks after recording the visuals, my old Yamaha CS-30 analogue synthesiser arrived from Johannesburg.
    While the principles of sound wave generation and modulation are relatively simple, the variables determining aspects of a sound soon add up – creating incredibly complex systems. Systems so complex in fact, that a seemingly insignificant change to a minor variable could lead to unpredictable, catastrophic changes in the overall sound. The famous butterfly flapping its wings in Bejing analogy from chaos theory becomes incredibly tangible.
    This makes twiddling knobs on an analogue synthesiser a very ‘fragile’ affair.

    Having unpacked the synth, I switched it on, and to my amazement, it was emitting a low, throbbing sound. I instinctively started recording the output, and started carefully twiddling the knobs. What followed can only be described as sonic surfing… riding the generators, oscillators and filters as far as the waves would take me – praying that I don’t get engulfed by noise – or silence.

    In this dance of lucid awareness and spontaneous expression, I found the bodily resonance I had sensed that day – months before, on seeing the stone-age pictographs in Copenhagen.

    One Last Thing

    For those wondering about the title of this video.
    L21ST is the title track of Cabaret Voltaire’s 1985 album – The Covenant, The Sword & The Arm Of The Lord
    I cannot overstate the importance that bands like Cabaret Voltaire had in inspiring me to start experimenting with film and video.
    An enormous amount of my creative output has references to music tracks. I will write more about that at some point.


    Konrad Welz 2004 – expanded and revised in 2025

    Footnotes

    1: In his book – Silence – John Cage describes his becoming aware of this while visiting an anechoic chamber. He realised that we – as humans – can never hear complete silence, because the sounds produced by our functioning bodies – heartbeat, blood-flow, breathing, nervous system etc. – will always be audible. For me, this is similar to the ‘hum’ produced by any electrical machine which is switched on.
    In all my video recordings, I love that fact that – in addition to recording the external sounds around it – the camera also records the sounds of its own functioning – its own existence. Not to mention the inevitable grainy noise or visual artefacts added to the images it records due to the physical nature of its sensor and the recording process.
    On a deeper level, I view this as resonating with, or an analogy to, the Cosmos as a self-generating matrix – like Shiva’s dance mentioned above… or like the Tao or ch’i.
    This is one of the prime reasons I love to watch and record this Becoming and Flow all around us – ourselves included.  Return

    2: Curated by Kendell Geers. Return

    3: For those who haven’t tried it, video feedback is generated by connecting a video camera to a screen and then pointing the camera at the screen. Likewise, the piercing howls and screeches of audio feedback are caused by a microphone connected to a speaker and bringing them close together – the microphone sends the sounds it picks up to the speaker which then sends those sounds back to the microphone – just like the mythical Ouroboros snake swallowing its tail. Return

    Post Script

    If you enjoy this video, I can recommend similar videos based on feedback techniques or soundtracks generated in a similar way:

    Electro Nosebleed Length: 2:54
    Bhumisparsa Length: 1:16
    Chromacandy Length: 3:23

  • Seagull

    Seagull

    Year:

    2001

    Duration:

    1:34

    Recorded:

    2001

    “What we observe is not nature in itself but nature exposed to our method of questioning” – Werner Heisenberg


    “What is divine escapes men’s notice because of their incredulity” – Heraclitus

    On a winter afternoon, in February 2001, on Brighton pier, I photographed some seagulls hovering and scavenging around.
    The fact that the Lomo camera had no viewfinder meant that I could literally “shoot from the hip” – a very intuitive, eye-hand interaction with the birds around me – reaching out towards them, and tracing their flight – Hand and arm movements that I consciously equate to a sort of abstract Zenga (Zen painting). In total I shot 18 photos – 72 moments1.

    Looking at the frozen movement of a film or video still, I always wonder what lies hidden in the interstices. And don’t all photographs, apart from showing the richness of the moment, also have that holographic quality of pointing to the invisible, irretrievably lost preceding and following moments – creating the melancholia of evanescence. A mood that became all the more pervasive when I re-animated the 72 stills at roughly 4 stills per second. The fragmentary, re-animated movement on video, and the inherent temporal fragility of the still combine to highlight the beauty of the momentariness of existence.

    Following the doctrine of universal momentariness (ksanikavada) and the concept of the point-instant (svalaksana) the Buddhist understanding of the instant is so thoroughgoing, that it leaves no room for any category of existence that is not instantaneous. 

    Universal time is rejected, and only the instant is real. Nothing endures, at every instant, an entity causes, and is replaced by, another. The conception of time as instant at once implies the notion of being as instantaneous; in fact, being and time are viewed as ontologically inseparable following the conclusion that time is never empty and being never un-temporal. 

    Within this universe – “Movement consists of moments, it is a staccato movement, momentary flashes of a stream of energy.”2

    For me, there is a strong analogy between the above-mentioned paradigm, and the mechanics of film or video3. Each frame contains a complete world – only to be replaced, a moment later – by the complete world of the following frame. There is however a major difference between the mechanics of film and the Buddhist paradigm, in the fact that one film-frame-world does not cause the next – contrary to their theory of causality (pratityasamutpada).4

    Nevertheless I find the Buddhist Moment, and the analogy to film or video, very worthwhile exploring. An interesting question is, “If existence is only momentary, how long is the moment?” In “film reality” the answer is 1/24th of a second5.
    The history of Buddhist philosophy has seen people trying to establish a temporal value for the Moment. In the Abhidharmakasabhasya, for example, it is stated that there are more than 65 moments in the time it takes a strong man to snap his fingers6. Even though Stcherbatsky describes these undertakings as, “mere attempts to seize the infinitesimal”7, I am tempted to search through neurophysiological literature to find this momentary reality – my layman’s theory being that: The duration of the shortest perceivable (auditory, visual, tactile etc.) impulse, would in theory constitute the Buddhist Moment – the logic being that if something can’t be sensed, it can’t be experienced, and therefore can’t exist – at least not for humans8

    The seagull, as arbitrary and insignificant, as it is an eternal and spectacular experience. It may seem strange calling a seagull an “experience”, but I do so to highlight the tangential, selective nature of perception and language.
    Even a brief exploration of the question, “What is, defines, or constitutes a seagull?”, dilutes the definitions and makes us realise that it is (but) an aggregate of ever-fluctuating, sensory-and memory-based “aspects” – which creates our perception and conception of a seagull.
    Fr. Pavel Florensky describes the problem thus: “Let us repeat: the window in itself is not a window – because the very idea of window (like any culturally constructed thing) possesses a “carrying-over” or transference, for if it did not, it would not be a thing fashioned within a culture. Thus, a window is either light or else mere wood and glass, but never simply a window.”9
    What Florensky doesn’t say is that every percept, every referent, is culturally “constructed” or at least modulated, and that therefore no thing is simply a thing. To paraphrase Magritte – Not even a real pipe is a “pipe”.

    But, SO WHAT?
    Aren’t these just hollow, semiotic, pseudo-intellectual games that erode and deny the richness of experience and our relationship to the earth? Just another symptom of the artificiality of modern life?
    That is certainly the case in a society, with science as religion, where our anthropocentricity has been banished from our knowledge of the world

    Nonetheless, contemplation – whether spiritual, or philosophical – does reveal contradictions and inconsistencies in our reality. But that doesn’t need do detract from, or contradict our corporeal experience. In fact, it only confirms the endless potential of our world of the ten-thousand things – to generate seemingly endless aspects to enjoy and ponder – including ourselves.
    “Things are not what they seem, nor are they otherwise” – says one of the most profound Buddhist statements.

    Despite being momentary, mortal, and evanescent; experiences like a seagull, putting on a coat, biting into a ripe apple, watching waves breaking on a shore, or running for a bus… These things delineate our selves – like an animator – constantly drawing, erasing, and redrawing; and make us cast our shadows on the world.

    Postscript:

    I have long been exploring the differences between a still image, and a static video recording.

    If you enjoyed this video, I could recommend the following videos which are all based on stills: N|Ontope and Sunset. If you’re feeling bold, I can recommend the short and intense Bhumisparsa

    On the other hand, you might enjoy the following short static videos:
    Nike and Summoning

    Footnotes


    1: A Lomo ActionSampler camera that, on shutter-release, takes four, 1/100th of a second exposures at roughly 1/4 second intervals, as four mini images on one 35mm film negative.

    2: Th. Stcherbatsky, Buddhist Logic Vol.1, Dover Publications, New York. Quoted in, Anindita Niyogi Balslev, A Study of Time in Indian Philosophy, Munshiram Manoharlal Publishers, New Dehli, 1999.

    3: And more broadly – all digital technology – where analogue flux is converted to discrete, sampled, digital units – very much resembling Stcherbatsky’s “staccato” description of movement.

    4: “The criterion that distinguishes the real from the fictitious, the Buddhist argues, is causal efficiency. In other words, that which is real is essentially of the nature of a cause, i.e. it gives rise to effects.” – Balslev, A Study of Time in Indian Philosophy p.82

    5: The fact that there are actually various film- and video frame-rate standards hints at the can of worms which such an inquiry opens.

    6: Quoted in Paul J. Griffiths, On Being Mindless – Buddhist Meditation and the Mind-Body Problem, Sri Satguru Publications, Delhi, 1999.

    7: Quoted by Griffiths, see above.

    8: This reasoning of course ignores issues relating to memory, inward vision, and the imagination; and their contributions to our reality.

    9: Pavel Florensky, Iconostasis, 1922, translated by Donald Sheehan and Olga Andrejev, SVS Press, 1996.

    Quotes at start:

    Werner Heisenberg, Physics + Philosophy, Harper + Row, 1962, p.58

    Heraclitus, The Cosmic Fragments, quoted in Jacob Needleman +David Appelbaum, Real Philosophy, Arkana 1990

  • Chromacandy

    Chromacandy

    Year:

    1995

    Duration:

    3:23

    Recorded:

    1995

    The result of a visit to the Copenhagen aquarium and a freestyle analogue synth improvisation – channeling the Jesus & Mary Chain, 808 State, and the euphoria of early nineties rave culture. I’ve remastered the video on its thirtieth anniversary.

    An anecdote

    I made this video while a student at the Royal Danish Art Academy in Copenhagen.
    One day, I walked into the video editing suite to find a fellow student working on a new video. She had gone to the Copenhagen aquarium and filmed an exquisite octopus which was perched – perfectly camouflaged – on its underwater rocky surroundings. I was spellbound by the shot, which was a symphony of browns, whites and greys – truly a sight to behold.
    However, as I stood there watching her work, she turned the image black-and-white, and overlayed a dense philosophical text over the entire image.

    Now, I love philosophy and very conceptual art.
    However, having my child-like joy of seeing the beautiful octopus marred by words and thoughts, made me bolt out of the studio and head straight to the aquarium – I had to rehabilitate the beauty I had seen marred.

    More text to follow…

  • Helicopter Relevation

    Helicopter Relevation

    Year:

    2025

    Duration:

    1:52

    Recorded:

    1996


    Recorded in the garden of the National Museum, Songkhla, Southern Thailand on the 5th of May 1996.
    Part of a series of experiments I made around the mid-nineties experimenting with focus1, and the meaning of blurred images and the sensations they trigger. I have written about this elsewhere.

    Incidentally, this video was made during the same journey which also led to my video Thunderstorm at Wat Phra Mahathat Woramahawihan which shares similar themes.

    1: Another video which exemplifies this approach, is The Photographer

  • Cemetery Symmetry

    Cemetery Symmetry

    Year:

    2002

    Duration:

    4:49

    Recorded:

    1999

    Filmed at the massive Verdun war cemetery just after a total solar eclipse on the 11th of August, 1999; this is an uncanny video, exploring the fine line between the Here and the Hereafter, Being and Non-being. Never were parallel universes, roving event horizons and fearful symmetries made more visible.

  • Waiting for the Monsoon

    Waiting for the Monsoon

    Year:

    2022

    Duration:

    7:06

    Recorded:

    2000

    This video is one of the chapters from my long-form video – The Bodies of Nobodies – which was recorded all over the world during 1999 and 2000.
    It took me more than twenty years to complete the final edit – not because of the complexity of the edit – but because of me coming to grips with the implications, complexity, and sheer impenetrability of the footage and the way I had recorded it.
    Between 1990 and 2000, my style of video recording and choice of subject matter, had become increasingly reduced. This video is an example of this distillation process.

    Like most of my videos in this style, it is definitely not an easy video to watch.
    It requires a strong commitment from the viewer to give it time… to watch and listen with a calm, receptive, concentrated mind.
    Believe me, these aren’t arbitrary – random – recordings.
    Well, actually they are!
    As arbitrary or random as the world around us.
    But then, the world around us is also totally magical – if we bother to observe quietly – without any preconceptions or expectations.
    From many hours of recording, I anguished over every second of my selection of these images and sounds.
    I never add, or overdub any audio – sound and picture were recorded simultaneously onto tape.

    This has become one of my favourite videos which achieves exactly what I set out to achieve or share.
    It was recorded on the 31st of May 2000 in an austere hotel complex in Kamalapura, Karnataka, India. It was incredibly hot – as India always is before the monsoon finally arrives and drenches the land.
    My working title for this video was – Waiting for the Cows to come Home.
    One of my favourite moments in the video is indeed when they finally make their appearance.
    For me, the appearance of the second calf truly has a Groundhog Day feeling to it. Another favourite moment is when the crow responds to the muezzin’s call to prayer; and also, how the call is carried by the wind.
    Of course, there are many more reasons why I make these videos; but for now I’ll leave it here.

  • Two Attempts at Phlebotany

    Two Attempts at Phlebotany

    Year:

    2023

    Duration:

    4:19

    Recorded:

    2010

    A punny title for a video which addresses a few of my interests.

  • Tropical Zoom Study

    Tropical Zoom Study

    Year:

    2022

    Duration:

    4:39

    Recorded:

    2000

    Does zooming into an object bring us any closer to it? Does zooming out make the objects in view any less inscrutable to us and to each other?

    Recording the world with the detachment of a meditating monk – with a so-called Mirror Mind – viewing things as they are, with no personal emotions or desires projected onto them.

    This video also explores the complex relationships between looking and listening. Trying to record Being – or even – the act of recording… perception.

    Recorded in 2000 on Ko Pha-ngan in southern Thailand. Initially, my idea was to have the incidental, off-camera dialogue snippets transcribed and translated.
    However, I learned that the Thai language is fantastically ‘open-ended’ as regards verb inflection – which made translation into English subtitles almost impossible.
    Since this difficulty of translation resonates well with the intention of the video, I decided to make the Thai subtitles part of the image.
    This video is a chapter of a larger work called – The Bodies of Nobodies.

    PS: As the camera zooms out, it reveals / sees its own (tripod)leg. This reminded me of Douglas Harding’s classic book – On Having no Head.

  • Three Turf Pieces

    Three Turf Pieces

    Year:

    2023

    Duration:

    7:53

    Recorded:

    2010

    In the late spring of 2010, I set out to record a series of audio-visual explorations of the undergrowth.

    I simply attached the camera to a tripod and then inverted the tripod with legs folded flat to allow me to record a few centimetres from the ground. I used a lens with wide aperture and fixed focus. I had limited visual feedback through a small flip-screen on the camera.

    I thought it would be interesting to explore the vegetal world no higher than a foot from the ground – a world completely overlooked.

    The simultaneously recorded soundtrack of sublime springtime birdsong and ambience, I slowed down to slightly surreal effect – like some sort of heightened awareness.

    Like most of my video work, I am interested in creating a one-take, audio-visual entity – as an attempt to share pre-lingual, pre-cognitive experience; and convey the simple wonder or resonance of that experience.

    Some viewers might note in the title a reference to Albrecht Dürer

    Postscript

    If you enjoy this video, I can recommend another video recorded around the same time. It’s called Two Attempts at Phlebotany.

  • The one where a scooter clips a dog whose yelping then triggers feedback in a temple

    The one where a scooter clips a dog whose yelping then triggers feedback in a temple

    Year:

    2022

    Duration:

    3:28

    Recorded:

    1996

    Recorded in the early morning on the 21st of May 1996 in Agra, India. One take – no effects or overdubs.

  • The Large Grass

    The Large Grass

    Year:

    2023

    Duration:

    3:28

    Recorded:

    2023

    Part of my ‘Curing Concrete‘ series towards a New Realism. References to, and resonances with, Duchamp, Dürer and Wyeth are acknowledged. Memories of summer camping trips are encouraged.

  • Sunset

    Sunset

    Year:

    2004

    Duration:

    5:00

    Recorded:

    2003

    On the 24th of October 2003, I ended up at Kimmeridge bay on the Dorset coast. I took these photos during the last half hour before sunset.

    With this video I tried to recreate the incredible solemnity of sunsets, and the enormity of being in this world.

    This video is part of a larger work called – February: A Quartet of Videos – first exhibited at Warren Siebrits Modern and Contemporary Art, Johannesburg, 2004.

    Postscript

    If you enjoy this video, I can recommend two other videos also based on photographs. Seagull and N/Ontope

  • Summoning

    Summoning

    Year:

    2022

    Duration:

    2:27

    Recorded:

    2000

    26 June 2000, Delhi, India. Image and audio recorded simultaneously – no overdubs.

  • Six Persimmons, a Robin, and a Dreaming Dog

    Six Persimmons, a Robin, and a Dreaming Dog

    Year:

    2021

    Duration:

    5:49

    Recorded:

    2021

    Inspired by the 13th-century masterpiece Six Persimmons by the Ch’an artist monk Muqi (牧谿) – also known as Fachang (法常).

  • Rock Metal Scissors

    Rock Metal Scissors

    Year:

    2024

    Duration:

    6:54

    Recorded:

    2010

    From Botch to Norma Jean, Converge and Dillinger Escape Plan; I have always had a soft spot for Metal*. Not least because its adrenaline-inducing intensity always seems to send the courtiers and courtesans of courteous society scurrying away.

    Many years ago, I was therefore very pleased to discover that my neighbour at the time – Matt Wakefield – was member of a local metal band called Mia Hope.

    I recorded this performance at their We are just Satellites album launch gig in 2010. After the same gig, I did actually make a ‘proper music video’ of their track Filmed like a Modern Day Noir. However, fourteen years later, I reviewed my footage of the gig and my favourite track of theirs – 50 Year Storm. Rather than just edit together a rough, live, music video; I decided to explore the concrete intensity of the music and raw footage. I pulled the footage backwards through a digital hedge, cutting it up and looping certain riffs and passages which define the vernacular of the genre – and Rock in general.

    I was always intrigued by the genre names Rock, and Metal – because they connote such elemental, concrete, materiality.

    Before we – as humans – think a single thought, we are physical entities made of flesh and bone – able to see, smell, hear and feel. We exist in the physical, objective world, and interact with other physical entities – objects – from the Latin meaning – ‘thrown up in front of, or – against, us’. These primal interactions and experiences – the physical contact, the touch, the colours, textures, smells and sounds – exist before a single name, word, or thought. Likewise, we can roar, scream, moan, laugh, jump, run, smash, slash, embrace – without knowing a single name or word.

    The immediacy, and overwhelming sensory experience of a basement metal gig, exemplifies this pre-verbal, pre-cognitive, physical interaction – a welcome, OBJECTIVE reset in an often virtual, ideologised world. I therefore found it fitting to derive the title from that most immediate, engaging example of human play – Rock Paper Scissors.

    Konrad Welz, 1 September 2024

    * Technically, these bands fall under the generic umbrellas of Metalcore and/or Mathcore; however I’ll stick to the term Metal. For the record – I love a very wide range of music.

  • River Mantra

    River Mantra

    Year:

    1997

    Duration:

    6:27

    Recorded:

    1996

    A meditative, observational video from the banks of the mighty Ganges river at Varanasi, India. Recorded in June, 1996. Because one sequence features a floating, wrapped, corpse; this video is recommended for mature viewers only.

    I have made many videos of this genre because it is my total conviction that quiet, observation of the world around us, offers a powerful antidote to the superficial, distracting, misanthropic everyday we find ourselves in. More on this later…

    Postscript

    If you enjoy this video, there are plenty of others which I can recommend:

    Boxing Day – filmed in Coober Pedy in the Australian desert.
    Including Two Pans and an Ice-cream Van – Filmed in Borneo.
    Lot 22 – filmed in Australia.
    Kites – also filmed in India.
    Crossing Paths at the Edge of Emptiness – filmed in India.
    Nike – filmed in Paris, France.

  • Plant Station Arcs

    Plant Station Arcs

    Year:

    2022

    Duration:

    8:53

    Recorded:

    1999

    Recorded on 5 December 1999, Kinabatangan, Sabah, Borneo.
    This is a chapter from my long-form video The Bodies of Nobodies

  • Nike

    Nike

    Year:

    1996

    Duration:

    3:49

    Recorded:

    1994

    The Winged Victory of Samothrace, The Louvre, Paris, France, 19 May 1994

    From the first day I ever owned and used a video camcorder in 1989, I spontaneously started making Actuality Films – without having the slightest inkling of that long-forgotten genre. It just felt like a completely natural way of looking at, and recording the world.
    I have written extensively about this and will link to it in due course.

    The title is obviously an ironic jab at everything hip and “consumer-cultury”.

    On the same day, I also recorded footage for a much more overtly, confrontational video – essentially about the same ideas, but very different – called – A.R.T.

    Postscript

    If you enjoy the contemplative nature of this video, I can recommend:

    A Silent Video of Hands Playing Dominoes
    Being in Thailand
    In a Room, in the Monsoon

  • N/Ontope

    N/Ontope

    Year:

    2001

    Duration:

    6:21

    Recorded:

    2000

    While en route from Calcutta to Frankfurt during the night of the 19th to 20th of July 2000, I ended up on a five-hour layover at Dubai airport. With my Panasonic DV camcorder I started recording stills of the airport. A year later, I finished and exhibited the resulting video – Nontope / Ontope (Angels in the Architecture).

    To make the average short stay at an international airport as comfortable as possible, the terminal buildings more or less contain all the facilities to satisfy your needs and requirements – within the constraints of your transient state, and the operational demands of the airport.

    On the odd occasion when you spend a longer time at an airport, the strangeness of this ‘habitat-simulation’ becomes more and more apparent.

    As the hours roll by, your ‘in-transit’ persona begins to change, and your needs start expanding beyond urinating, eating, buying reading matter for the trip, or gifts for those, somewhere, awaiting your arrival. You become aware that you are starting to transgress the simulated, functional identity assigned to you as ‘person-in-transit’ – on some flowchart somewhere… and you start realising what a non-place this is. You sense that ‘Place’ means more than locus, for this lacks the ontological dimension of human existence – measured in an individual’s hours, days, and years. Statistically, the building is constantly occupied by humans – but no single person dwells long enough to leave a mark – and the building stays forever the functional shell that the architects, engineers and planners envisaged.

    But strangely, this place creates a sort of meditational consciousness – maybe because you’re bored and tired – in an in-between time with no specific agenda. You begin noticing all the objects – animate and inanimate – which populate this shell.

    On the one hand, they look as uncanny and distant as they’ve ever appeared – you sense that every thing around you, is just a ‘stand-in’ – an incarnation – of some item, or function, in an airport simulation.

    Yet, on the other hand, you become aware that every thing – including yourself – shares the same statistical, functional existence within the system – and thus the trolleys, the utility carts, the elevators, the seats, the signs and the people, appear almost like long-lost friends – comrades – like angels in the architecture – and this place becomes a place of undifferentiated being.

    In 2023, I decided to remaster the original video in Ultra-HD. Scaling an image measuring 768 x 576 pixels to 2880 x 2160 pixels is actually a ludicrous undertaking. The interlaced, blurred, noisy and extremely compressed original images added to the challenge.

    I decided to ‘abuse’ AI image-processing software to scale, de-noise, and sharpen the images. The resulting, uncanny images had very little to do with the originals, yet I found the artefacts – or look – created by the process very stimulating, and in a sense very sympathetic to my original creative intentions.

    Inspired by these ‘newfound’, ‘newborn’ images – including out-takes from the original shoot – I slightly re-edited the video by replacing four shots. In addition, I did a remaster of the original stereo soundtrack.

    For this reason, I have renamed this video as it is a ‘remix’ of the original.

    Postscript:

    I have long been exploring the differences between a still image, and a static video recording.

    If you enjoyed this video, I could recommend the following videos which are also based on stills: Seagull and Sunset

  • Lot 22

    Lot 22

    Year:

    2022

    Duration:

    4:17

    Recorded:

    2000

    Recorded on the 25th of January 2000, near Wisemans Ferry, New South Wales, Australia.
    This is a chapter from my long-form video The Bodies of Nobodies.

    Driving along a nondescript road along the Hawkesbury river, I noticed an electrical box with Lot 22 painted on it.

    In my youth I had read Thomas Pynchon‘s classic – The Crying of Lot 49 – and felt compelled to stop.

    With the car engine switched off, it takes a while for the droning numbness of driving to slowly give way.
    The silence of this completely arbitrary place in the Australian landscape descends.

    Slowly your shadow catches up with you, and you become aware of your surroundings… So generic, arbitrary and nondescript that you can’t even describe where you are and what is around you.

    Trees, grass, gravel, some sort of deserted building, an “electrical box” – I never know what those things are called, or what they actually do…
    A makeshift post box, a scattered letter, ants…
    The sound of a passing car, of gravel under my souls, of a kookaburra?

    Some lines by Wallace Stevens come to mind:

    … The proud and the strong
    Have departed.


    or

    “The greenhouse never so badly needed paint.
    The chimney is fifty years old and slants to one side.
    A fantastic effort has failed, a repetition
    In a repetitiousness of men and flies.


    I love places like this.

    This is what most of the world is like.
    This is what most of life is like:
    Not glamorous, not exciting… It just is.

    But that certainly doesn’t make it worthless or meaningless.
    You get out of it what you put in.

    If you give it your presence, your attention; it starts existing to you
    And you start existing because it exists.

    With apologies to Stevens, I end with a remix of the poem quoted above:


    Little by little, the poverty
    Of this deserted place becomes
    A look, an acknowledgement.

    Each thing completely touches us
    With what it is and as it is,
    In the stale grandeur of annihilation.

    Poems Quoted

    The Plain Sense of Things and Lebensweisheitspielerei by Wallace Stevens.

    Postscript

    If you enjoy this video, I can recommend a few similar ones:

    Including Two Pans and an Ice-cream Van

    Plant Station Arcs

    For a longer, more intense experience, I recommend:

    10K Ugly Pixels