Paper Landscape on Skype like Vanishing Twin Syndrome,
the one eradicating the other. Amy pivots, four-pointed images like VR on wallpaper, on screen, on wallpaper again. Male hands, sequentially covering rings, the double-click regular but separate, face unseen, then reversed, living and clacking and whirring, combining and layering. Everything contains a rectangle. Doesn’t it? Image as sound as image. In Greece they danced, in Tokyo they sat. You can’t fill a room with smoke anymore. Light beams from Turkey into Summerhall, a cinematic wormhole, like matches lit in darkness, echoed later against a curved wall, and left, afterwards, like puncture marks in exhausted celluloid. Inspired by Collective-iz at B.E.E.F. in Bristol, January 17th 2018
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