The immobility of tree
"Our own substance vanishes in the madness of everyday living. We wander about anxiously in search of identity. The immobility of trees brings us back to ourselves. We dig to put down roots, to find a resting place made of memories, of white confetti, fragments of insubstantiality."
In the video the immobility of the trees is contrasted with the evanescence of the figure that is multiplied into so many chaotic and identically insubstantial selves.
The perfect geometry of the poplar grove is like a cage enclosing the winding path of human existence. The rational order that humankind has imposed by planting the trees this way denatures the variety of the trees, yet the perspective beauty, with the intensity of light concentrated in the central vanishing point, is still attractive.
As it draws nearer, the eye of the video camera enables the viewer to notice differences, rediscovering the majesty, the uniqueness, of the tree. The figures walking around among the poplars seem to melt away like the snow they are feverishly tramping.
Imperceptibly, however, they have within themselves the ability to focus on and reproduce images of what they are looking at. Finally they find the tree and the dispersion into a thousand selves is recomposed by the click.
Silence comes onto the scene, in substitution to a mechanical voice that can barely remember its ingenuous poem.
The figure has now become a person who imitates the life cycle of the tree out of attraction to it. She plants herself despite the frozen winter ground, surrounded by the fruits of the click that become the seeds of this attempt at regeneration. The fragility and the utopia of the gesture leave the viewer disarmed. These seeds are just blank photographs, however -- images evaporated like snow in the sun, confetti on a festival day, fragments of insubstantial joy.
In the video the immobility of the trees is contrasted with the evanescence of the figure that is multiplied into so many chaotic and identically insubstantial selves.
The perfect geometry of the poplar grove is like a cage enclosing the winding path of human existence. The rational order that humankind has imposed by planting the trees this way denatures the variety of the trees, yet the perspective beauty, with the intensity of light concentrated in the central vanishing point, is still attractive.
As it draws nearer, the eye of the video camera enables the viewer to notice differences, rediscovering the majesty, the uniqueness, of the tree. The figures walking around among the poplars seem to melt away like the snow they are feverishly tramping.
Imperceptibly, however, they have within themselves the ability to focus on and reproduce images of what they are looking at. Finally they find the tree and the dispersion into a thousand selves is recomposed by the click.
Silence comes onto the scene, in substitution to a mechanical voice that can barely remember its ingenuous poem.
The figure has now become a person who imitates the life cycle of the tree out of attraction to it. She plants herself despite the frozen winter ground, surrounded by the fruits of the click that become the seeds of this attempt at regeneration. The fragility and the utopia of the gesture leave the viewer disarmed. These seeds are just blank photographs, however -- images evaporated like snow in the sun, confetti on a festival day, fragments of insubstantial joy.
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