Always Aching & Bending Back

As technology accelerates, our species' collective imagination of the future grows ever more kaleidoscopic. We are all haunted by temporal distortion, perhaps no more than when we attempt to remember what the future looked like to our younger selves. As the mist of time devours our memories, the future recedes; each of us burdened by the gaping mouth of entropy. Yet, emerging technology provides a glimmer of hope; transhumanism promises a future free from mortality, disease and pain. Does our salvation lie in digital simulacra? We're here to sell you the answer to that question, for the low, low price of four hundred and seventy seconds.

Beyond all human restraint lies one's lugubrious layers of paint.

There is nothing left to do but complain.

A teenager decides to shut himself off from the world around him after receiving bad news.

The final 17 years of American singer and musician Karen Carpenter, performed almost entirely by modified Barbie dolls.

As years and years go by, a tiny civilization makes its way upwards.

James Sumner directs and animates the entire Dirty Projectors’ The Getty Address.

A film in five different sections, each containing a different soundscape by Ostrowski. Hand painted film, intense exposure, morphing textures and shapes into a seamless whole; geometrical games sabotaging themselves; and the incessant lure of the abstract paint drift. The soundscapes, of course, build up like fountains of picture, oscillating between contemplative sculptures with electronically manipulated strings and harsh noise attacks on our senses. Despite the use of sound as a central filmic element, Cyanonide stands as a proof of the enduring influence of Brakhage on american avant-film.

Corpus II Home presents a fatalist visualisation of the psychological effects of the world coming to a standstill. The mind becomes hyper aware of itself, every thought, every movement is methodically registered and evaluated, creating a suffocating environment that will have brutal consequences.

A young girl’s fiery dance, accidentally caught on 16 mm film in the street. The viewer is confronted by the sacrificial and the passionate, the strong and the fragile, the fleeting and the eternal. These are the faces of femininity.

Years after the crime, three clueless investigators discuss the disappearance of a young tourist in a small French town.

Lines align during acclimated apexes, shadowy vertices, and bright burrows.

Wax and wane until there is naught but boring pain.

A coming-of-age story about a high-school girl who wants to use magic, featuring the 11-member experimental band Vampillia

Performance video about a holiday romance at St Ives, Cornwall.

Beneath towering Brutalist architecture, a man is driven to do what must be done.

'It was in San Francisco at a punk festival. I was already high and the air was so thick in the rooms that you could cut it with a knife. I had a photograph camera with me; I stood in a corner of the entrance hall and took 36 pictures on slide film. At home I put the slides into a slide projector. I took out the lens and filmed the slides by filming directly from the projector - using single frames according to a certain plan.'

A film that places the bright and dark sides of life close together. From an understatement beginning, the movie drives up to an ecstatic highlight with a love act between two young people. The orgasm becomes an enormous image flow into the crematorium's death machine.

Shortly before his death, Romitelli together with his friend Paolo Pachini and the poetess Kenka Lèkovich, resurrected the dream of a total scenic art (a furnace of sensations, they called it, an_ initiation rite_) in the manner of the Futurists: rhythms and gleams of light striking metals (for the video part), poems in iron and chrome singing of fusion with matter (Kenka Lekovich), acoustic/electric music highly amplified, filtered, spatialised, in as artificial a manner as possible. An Index of Metals bears vigorous witness to this determination to go beyond: sizzling orchestration, electric and psychedelic; a voice which plays on effects, murmurs with reverb, cackles into a megaphone, screams like a pop star; and an electric guitar score of a kind that no ‘serious’ composer has ever written, sliding across an infinite range of tones with a lightness of touch and blurring of contours.

Álbum de videos 2013-2014