Sara Magno og James Newitt har kuratert den første delen av høstprogrammet 2020 (se "Aktuelt"), her er deres egne ord om sammensetningen:


"It’s often said: in a blink of an eye everything can change, yet apparently everything stays the same. We blink and a year may have passed, or sometimes we blink just to gain a clearer vision of something that stands in front of us. Dziga Vertov, a pioneer of experimental film, drew a connection between the blink of an eye and the cut in filmmaking. This encounter of the human eye and the eye of the machine still allows for endless possibilities. Every cut, or blink, is charged with a particular meaning, it may bring things closer or push them further away; it can make things clearer or leave them out of focus; it may relate things or differentiate them; it may compose things or disturb them. The blink, this basic skill both of the eye and the camera, is what remains at the source of the poetic surplus of film. 


This selection of short films recognises the advantage of the gesture of blinking in order to realise a poetic meaning. The films transport us to different landscapes, placing us within the frame – as if we inhabit another body – and invite us to play a game of contrasts where we navigate oppositional forces, such as, closeness and distance, sameness and difference, matter and light, earth and sky. Every cut (or blink) involves a displacement, playing on the stratification of meaning. 


Take for example, Deborah Stratman’s …These Blazeing Starrs! The film incorporates archival material of comets entering the earth’s atmosphere – we see the light of these events captured on film as the comets burn into disappearance. The film also alludes to the history of astral observation, composing images of our own attempts to see and record the moment when something from out of space enters the atmosphere and disappears before our eyes - in all its blazing glory.


Ana Vaz´s Atomic Garden leads us into a stroboscopic encounter with a garden located close to where the Fukushima nuclear disaster occurred in 2011. The micro images of flowers in the garden, which was tended by an elderly resident even during an exclusion period after the disaster, are intercut with exploding fireworks. As we blink in an attempt to keep up with the blooming flowers and exploding gunpowder, the juxtaposition of the two reminds us that slow changes can be translated to rapid instants – if we adjust our notion of time towards a non-human scale. 


Tuomas A. Laitinen’s Haemocyanin imagines how non-human beings might see and feel the world around them. Focusing on one of the most alien of earthly creatures, the film shows us how an octopus inhabits and moves through its home - a transparent sculpture made by Laitinen himself. Within the film the octopus also seems to be telling us something, its language has been translated by Laitinen into a text based on the octopus’ arm movements. Haemocyanin is a video that encourages us to consider other ways of thinking, feeling and communicating.

Diogo Evangelista´s Isle, plays with the non-linearity of desire. The film, which shifts between observation of natural phenomena and an animated space where dust particles float freely, expresses feelings and desires in an elliptical form, looping and playing around each other. Here the relation between past and present is one of imbrication, of repetition, of the equivocal, allowing for the reflux of desire. 


Within this selection of films we find games of masking, reversal, and ambiguity. In Sam Smith´s Lithic Coda there are moments when we, as viewers, are compelled to blink, just to make sure that what we are seeing is real, or not. The film begins, unexpectedly with a rupture that brings everything into question, the landscape (which is, in fact, Gotland island in Sweden) is not behaving as it should. We have no choice but to once again review our points of reference, perhaps to blink and check again.


How might we see with our eyes closed, or if we were headless? James Newitt’s To Attempt to Become Other, Secretly or Not, emerges during the night. In this film we witness a headless being, known as a Acephale, negotiate its body within the surrounding environment. The Acephale represents emancipation from rational thought, a figure that doesn’t think or see, instead it feels its way through the world." -Sara Magno & James Newitt


Deborah Stratman

… These Blazeing Starrs!, 2010

15 mins


Ana Vaz

Atomic Garden, 2018

7:34 min


Diogo Evangalista

Isle, 2014

6:24 min


Sam Smith

Lithic Coda, 2020

8:44 mins


James Newitt

To Attempt to Become Other, Secretly or Not, 2016

14:20 mins