No Frontier

A new short film, No Frontier, to be screened at the forthcoming exhibition at Skaftfell.

Provisional blurb:

No Frontier is a short film that explores the psychological effects of travel, climate change, remoteness and isolation. Filmed on the eastern fringes of Iceland during a time when the artist had no permanent address, these motionless, lingering images mimic the stop-and-shoot superficiality of the tourist, but their subject matter – the idiosyncratic and the everyday – is entirely different from the usual tourist fare. These are images suffused with ambivalent emotions: confusion, revulsion, longing – there is a yearning for certainty and security amidst a blizzard of often indecipherable media noise (sourced from Icelandic radio, UK shipping forecasts, American TV news channels, & Youtube clips). The sense of unease is compounded by a series of captioned, first-person texts, adapted from the Poetic Edda, which essay a kind of psychological disturbance that is both deeply personal and reflective of a more widespread cultural trauma.

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Day Sixty-three

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Thaw’s Book (vi)

During the first part of May, the silence of the fjord was punctuated by the sounds of birds – redwings in the bare tree-tops; curlews and black-tailed godwits along the river; arctic terns in the sky above. Now, during this time of not-quite midnight sun, when the sky dims but doesn’t darken, the redwings seem to sing perpetually, but they are newly accompanied by a polyphony of waterfalls which are swelled to whiteness by melting snow on higher ground.

The stone on which I made an offering of salt 14 days ago is now three inches under water – the homeopathic dose itself being re-absorbed into the aquatic body from whence it came. It makes me wonder about the so-called ‘dawn chorus’ – does the sun sing the bird, or the bird sing the sun?