Paris, France | July, 2012
Crystal cable car, in the clouds.
Hong Kong | May 3, 2012
For an Album
Our story isn’t a file of photographs
faces laughing under green leaves
or snowlit doorways, on the verge of driving
away, our story is not about women
victoriously perched on the one
sunny day of the conference,
nor lovers displaying love:
Our story is of moments
when even slow motion moved too fast
for the shutter of the camera:
words that blew our lives apart, like so,
eyes that cut and caught each other,
mime of the operating room
where gas and knives quote each other
moments before the telephone
starts ringing: our story is
how still we stood,
AB/CD/CD, On Hold, 2011.
An endless staircase, smashing plates and slapped faces coalesce into an exploration of repetition and narrative in French filmmakers AB/CD/CD’s On Hold. Inspired by Michael Haneke’s 71 Fragments of a Chronology of Chance—in which the main character plays ping-pong against a machine that is throwing balls to him in a never ending loop—AB/CD/CD’s Arnaud Boutin, Clement Dozier and Camille Dauteuille devised a series of repetitious sequences and scenarios to shoot over a couple of weekends. Set to English experimental electronic act Factory Floor’s “Real Love”, the resultant scenes play off the track’s polyrhythms to generate a hypnotic tension. “When you listen carefully to Factory Floor, you can detect that it’s live, it’s not only a cold sequencer playing, it’s organic,” explains Clement. “They are actually playing that track as the actors are re-doing their movements.” The band were taken with the way On Hold’s collage of unrelated loops played with narrative, explains Factory Floor guitarist and vocalist Nik Void: “It’s not far from how our music works, it gives space in the viewer’s own mind to imagine and conclude what the context is about.” Having made videos for the likes of Lily Allen, Uffie and Josephine de la Baume’s Singtank, AB/CD/CD are currently wrapping up films for New York concept-store-turned-brand Opening Ceremony.
Stan Stearns, John F. Kennedy Jr.’s Salute to Father, 1963.
Intentionally left blank. Allow space for the ideas you haven’t had yet, and for the ideas of others.
“Loading”: Culture Desk: Cover Story: Your Eustace, 2012 : The New Yorker, via Ned Beauman.