On cities, mapping, psychogeography and the experience of places.

“It seems to be easier for us today to imagine the thoroughgoing deterioration of the earth and of nature than the breakdown of late capitalism; perhaps that is due to some weakness in our imaginations.”

Fredric Jameson’s The Seeds of Time (1996)

It is with this sentence that opens Patrick Keiller’s latest offering, Robinson in Space, at once an eminantly political essay on landscape and history, a rigorously experimental filmic object, and part three of a fictional trilogy involving a mysteriously elusive and half-deluded scholarly type named Robinson who undisguisably acts as Keiller’s own projection and fantasy.

The film purports to be assembled from reels abandoned in a caravan left behind by this evasise and shifty character, and is self-described as ‘picturesque views on journeys to sites of scientific and historical interest’. Its narrative backbone consists in the retelling of the unfolding events of the global economic meltdown of 2008, whilst Robinson’s obsession with port statistics has been replaced by agricultural observations and Paul Scofield’s voice-over, which seemed to embody the character in his absence, has given way to Vanessa Redgrave’s slighlty more distant, but no less monotonic and laconic tone.

Made possible through an AHRC-funded project, ‘The Future of Landscape and the Moving Image’, which explores narratives of mobility and the political in landscape and place and received the input of many academics including Doreen Massey, professor of Cultural Geography at the Open University, the film unveils the history and political forces at work in the seemingly peaceful and uneventful rolling hills of rural Oxforshire, quintessance of the English landscape; It challenges notions of the picturesque, confront visions of a rustic past with industrial romanticism and issues of land ownership, and is ultimately a reminder of the socially constructed notion of landscape.

Robinson’s camera stares ininterruptedly at these places, hoping to discern the “molecular basis of historical events”, framing the only visible remain of a decommissioned US airbase: a fire hydrant sticking out in the middle of a field near Greenham Common (the location of Dr David Kelly’s suicide), or highlighting the ruins of the abandoned villages around Hampton Gay, where 16th-century rebellion against the countryside’s enclosure began. Robinson ultimately discovers a vast network of government oil pipelines running unnoticed through southern England, connecting military sites.

True to Keiller’s own brand of meticulously prepared near-static images, the film alternates wide shots and macro, and sometimes reveals the imperceptible, for example in the red paint of a post-box being slowly eroded by use, or a colony of lichens growing at the corner of letterings on the surface of a roadsign.
The camera lingers for long moments, capturing seemingly mundane images of a noisy machine harvesting a field, or swaying foxgloves merely accompanied by birdsong, followed by the precise but silent beauty of a spider delicately spining its web – contrasted with the narrator’s detailed account of the near-collapse of the international banking system – hinting at the dual challenges posed by an economic and ecological crisis. These long shots effectively result in drawing the spectator towards meditative rhythms of thought oppositional to the politically brutal mechanisms outlined in the commentary, bringing intensity and focus and confering a hightened meaning to images of an otherwise mundane materialism, uncomfortably confronting daily reality with remote global events that seem outside any control, asking what efforts of the mind may be required to break free from the hold of market economy with the state of nature.

The Future of Landscape and the Moving Image blog: http://thefutureoflandscape.wordpress.com/

“Part city symphony and part visual poem, this award-winning film explores the invisible life of London, its patterns and its hidden secrets, through the eyes of crane drivers working high above its streets.

The result is a lyrical meditation about how our existence is shaped through the environment we inhabit, both for the drivers and the people they are watching far down on the ground below them.”

You will be slightly disappointed if you expect to see here a deep reflection on psychology and alter-urbanism, to go by the over-stated description above – the film monologues consists for the best part of mundane platitudes narrated by the crane drivers themselves, though this doesn’t remove any of the visual beauty of this peaceful string of panning shots featuring highly unusual sights of London. Overall, an enjoyably conemplative film I would highly recommend for lovers of the city skyline, its buildings and its cranes.

The Solitary Life of Cranes Dir. Eva Weber (UK), 2008, 28 min.

The Solitary Life of Cranes / City of Cranes [Director Eva Weber's website]

This documentary is available to watch on 4OD until the 8th of January.

“imagine walking through a film, but it’s happening on the streets you walk down everyday.”

‘As if it were the last time’ is a series of street actions/soundwalks which took place in London, Bristol and Liverpool on the 12th, 13th and 14th of November. After signing-up, participants were able to download one of two soundtracks and gather along a location that was kept secret up to the beginning of the event, in order to take part in an impromptu public performance. On a rainy Thursday evening, the mob started to congregate in the area around Seven Dials, and at 6pm sharp, mp3 players began to unravel their story:

As an atmospheric soundscape started to resonate in my headphones, the heavy drops of rain were giving the situation a sense of heightened drama. The first couple of words whispered in my ear coincidentally seemed to be echoing what was going on around me: someone looking over their shoulder, readjusting their coat, putting their hand in their pocket… Everything that was said seemed to predict what was going to happen, as if the street suddenly became the scene of a theater that was directly responding to the soundtrack, as if seemingly random passers-by were all part of an orchestrated setup, their choreographed moves obeying a pre-determined script.

The result of taking part in subtlemob: the schizophrenic feeling of being both a spectator and actor, an insider and an onlooker. Above all, the inexplicably intense sensation of belonging to the street, of being here and now in the city.

http://www.subtlemob.com/

Paradise Place Birmingham 2007 by Martin Hartland

My visit to Birmingham last month was the occasion to take the pulse of the city and revisit some of its architectural landmarks. I was naturally drawn to the closing evening of the Flatpack festival where three documentaries were shown to celebrate the life and work of John Madin, the Birmingham architect who is responsible for so much of the city’s post-war redevelopment. The screenings were followed by a panel discussion which was timely for one important reason: his creations are now bulldozed or threatened with iminent demolition. The BBC Pebble Mill and Post & Mail building have gone already, and more worringly the Central Library is next on the list.

Birmingham’s tumultuous relationship with modernism began in the 50s, at the time when numerous Victorian buildings were targeted by policy-makers on the grounds of unsoundness and inadequacy. One must acknowledge that the language of brutalist architecture demands a bit of getting used to: born out of utopian and visionary schemes of functionalism and segregation of traffic flows, it has resulted in monumental slabs of raw concrete, varyingly described as inhuman, insensitive or lifeless – not to mention the ‘urine-scented’ underpasses. Modernism is still the subject of a fierce debate, particularly in conservative England: between those who feel it is ugly and irrelevant, and those who feel that by erasing all trace of it we are in danger of blindly repeating post-war mistakes.

Nonetheless, the films presented here were an interesting occasion to put in perspective yesterday’s grand plans of tabula rasa for a clean and efficient urban system lasting “for the next 100 years” with today’s conception of modern ‘urban living’: new, shiny, glazed – and disconnected from the past, thus raising interesting questions about the changing notions and purposes of urban planning and architectural heritage. One major theme that came through during the public discussion was the increasing re-purposing of the city as a haven for shoppers and consumers rather than a public space owned by its inhabitants. Hailing a newly built shop [Selfridges] as the icon of a city bidding to become the 2008 European Capital of Culture was clearly a twisted symbol, for the very idea that consumer culture is rooted in the world of illusion and ephemera. Incidentally, the Bullring and the surrounding shopping area have already aged dramatically in their very short life.

I’m still grappling to understand the city’s attitude to the idea of architectural legacy; Why this constant need to reinvent itself? It’s as if Birmingham was somewhat ashamed and unable to come to terms with its past, and that only by erasing it, it could move forward – the city’s motto.

In the case of the Central Library, the council’s claims of structural issues look at best quite shaky and disputable, at worst more like an attempt to disguise a shift in architectural taste. Razing a building because it has fallen out of fashion is is not just short-sighted, it is expensive – especially at a time when many parts of the city are neglected and could do with a refurbishment. The recent ruling of English Heritage in favour of the listing of the Central Library came as a blow to the council’s plans. Yet city planners have also argued that the Central Library was an obstacle to the realisation of a east/west trans-urban axis. Obstruction? They have a point: as a place for free thinking and enlightenment in such a central location, the library is an obstruction to profitable shopping and spending. Alas, the latest wave of urban regeneration seems more driven by commercial motives than a genuine concern and respect for the wellbeing of people.

Six Men: John Madin, architect (BBC2, 1965, 30 min)

Friends of the Central Library

The Guardian – Society | Razed Stakes

Just came back from Birmingham where I attended the closing days of Flatpack, a 10-day event put together by old pals 7 Inch cinema, now (already!) in its third edition. It’s good to remember that 7 Inch started life as a “family business”, running DIY monthly film nights at the Rainbow pub in Digbeth back in 2003 (I still have the very first flyers!), and it seems that they’ve kept going that way without selling their soul.

Eclectism and spontaneity is the name of the game in this quirky little festival; The clash of retro-modern graphics with victorian-punk aesthetics is spot-on, thanks to the visual craft of Gas. Many of the events were free and casual, reinforcing its vocation as an antidote to mainstream/commercial media, offering a mind-opening and enlightning glimpse into independent/amateur film-making and unearthing what the experience of early cinema must have been like before Hollywood and multiplexes came along – or possibly pointing at what moving-image might become as a democratised and participatory art-form for the future?

The programme successfully negociated its way around an array of strands pulling together the weird, the experimental, the kitsch or the serious, a bit like if Onedotzero, Aurora, Raindance and the London Short Film Festival had collided together, consequently attracting a well mixed audience. Overall, the greatest thing about the festival was the shameless balance between old and new, together with an uncompromised and resourceful emphasis on homegrown stuff. This reconcilation of past, present and future is refreshing – something that can’t be said about the plans for the new central library in Birmingham – more on this later!)

Highlights included a presentation and film programme compiled by Berlin-based animator David O’Reilly, and a panel discussion and screenings on the work of Birmingham-born architect John Madin.

http://www.flatpackfestival.org

http://www.7inch.org.uk

Finisterre is a collaborative film project, part-documentary / part-music promo, between film-makers Paul Kelly, Kieran Evans and the electro-pop band Saint-Etienne, produced by CC-Lab and supported by Onedotzero.

I watched this film for the first time shortly after it came out in 2003, and remained fascinated by it ever since; after watching it again recently I was inhabited by the same irresistible feelings of nostalgia and tenderness. Beyond the innovative format of the film, which seeks to explore the possibilities of a 60-minute music-promo at the scale of an entire album, the combination of Saint-Etienne’s melancholic or energetic tunes and Kelly/Evans thoughtful shots successfully captures the alternating moods that London has to offer to the unsuspecting visitor.

The film starts and finishes with a train journey in and out of the city, dusk to dawn, unknown to familiar, and transports the spectator on a journey of discoveries and insights into the ‘London Nobody Knows’, through a succession of interviews of local artists and residents connected to the story of Saint Etienne, blended with powerful musical passages accompanied by imagery ranging from architectural patterns to urban scenes and walking crowds, always meticulously shot as stills documenting the city area by area, punctuated by an overwhelming voice-over narrative that features the observations and reminiscences of Lawrence. Finisterre sheds some light on London as a source of influence, inspiration and curiosity for many, offering a trip through the city that is largely reminiscent of a line of psycho-geographic films such as ‘London’, ‘Robinson In Space’ (Patrick Keiller), and ‘Orbital’ (Chris Petit).

The result is a touching tribute to London, marvelously conveying the essence of the place while forming a visual record and musical impression of the city today.

This one-off 10-day exhibition opened in December 2006 in Bargehouse (London’s South Bank) and was curated by the Light Surgeons.
The four-storey building – a dilapidated, raw warehouse – the ligthing and atmosphere of the space lent themselves marvelously to the purpose of the show, “a journey to examine how we move through, interact with, and share the built environment”.

Spanning the interconnected themes of travelling, inhabiting cities, private/public space, the event featured audio/video installations by the Light Surgeons, talks by Scanner, Iain Sinclair on his last book ‘London, City of disappearances’, and film screenings from Onedotzero’s own ‘Digital Terrains’ programme. A couple of film/video pieces by Lenka Clayton & James Price particularly grabbed my attention: ‘conversation’, where two TV monitors playback interviews of passers-by making a judgement upon each other on the basis of appearance, thus giving a peculiar insight – not least funny – of people’s untold perceptions of each other; In the series of films ‘People in Order’, the film-makers intentionally set filming ‘rules’ contained in the title: In ‘Age’ they shot 100 people in their home, telling their age, shown in order. This was followed by ‘Relationship’, ‘Wealth’… offering as many original and alternative ways to go about documenting people and their environment.

The show also explored the dimension of travel, with some very interesting works by the Light Surgeons – one travelogue video showing upstairs, and the installation ‘transit’ on the ground floor, featuring a full-scale airport terminal hall with its luggage carrousel and passengers’ voices listing the contents of their luggage.
As Chris Thomas Allen (from the Light Surgeons) puts it: “The moment you arrive you have departed. As you leave you have begun a new experience. The fluid movements of our arrivals and departures map threads of intertwined experiences in transitory space. Within the pockets of personal space we carry memories, aspirations and secrets. These resonant whispers mark our personal cartographies in the public realm.”

www.articulatedlondon.org

I have had a renewed interested in travelogues, these narrated films or videos about travel, after watching Trans (2005) by Claudia Ruiz and Gijs Verkoulen. This film is a non-verbal 25-minute documentary – a “visual poem” – about a week-long journey by train from Moscow to Beijing, passing by extreme differences in countryside, travellers and natives. During this 7 day journey the viewer can experience how the eye and the mind unnoticeably accommodate to changing perspectives. “As time goes by shifting of railwaytracks and power lines get fascinating, you will get delirious as the Gobi dessert passes by and by”. Filmed traditionally at the beginning, then slowly and progressively becoming more of a mesmerizing aggregation of long tracking shots with little disturbance to challenge the alertness of the viewer.