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Viewing single post of blog ‘A Film In My Purse…’

Repetition. A woman walks up a stone staircase, but new parameters set. A projector that I cradle in my hands. A torch. New rules. 4 minutes of ‘exposure’, 20 repeat presses, 20 small gestures. Memory disruption/memory interruption. A fleeting personal ephemeral archaeology.

My screen,  a fallen stone from Stari Most (Mostar Bridge)  that was destroyed during the civil war. It lay below the new, huge and heavy, by the waters edge. The first projection. The first audience to witness. Breath slow, counting and still. Witnessing ‘repetition’ in a new way. Yet I saw nothing of this witnessing… I was as if I was blindfolded, and this took me by surprise, raising the volume of my body…

And I decide here, after the four minutes,  to close the film, and  to let the blue screen lead the way, like a torch, past the audience, up another staircase and into the crowd.

‘She walks (projection) She sits (performance) relying on repetition and the pulse of the city. Its visibility and invisibility. Its sense of place. Its geographical intricacies, and the space within her body’

How to be stark and invisible…

 


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