Dream merges with nightmare in this post-industrial land of vivid night. The camera records walls, angles and the shadows they cast. Birdshit on a window, crumpled sheets and corners of the room are seen in wide, medium and extreme close-up. The film moves from light to dark, from sheets to shadows. It shoots like a pistol into vein and to the heart.
Point is something within has just ended.
Outdated film hand processed in short lengths, printed by sandwiching picture and stock in the sprocket of a synchronizer mounted over a lightbulb, print also developed in short hunks. The nominal subjects were ink drawings photographed with a borrowed camera, spraypaint on film, found objects contact printed. The lab sessions were interrupted by long days bent over the Griswald splicer, organizing frame by frame, making new arrangements to be combined in printing. The staccato pace, the very short duration of the images and the use of clear frames all lead to the formation of afterimages producing, among other things, impressions of color. Given no time to move within the images, eye movement tends to be paralyzed except for a sort of involuntary pursuit of the light areas as they shift around the screen.