mars 2011 Archives

Une plage comme distance

beach2.pngbeach3.png
Mew, Beach, 2010 (photogrammes extraits de la vidéo par de Thurah, Hashemi et Martinussen)


C'est une sorte d'objet surréaliste, en tout les cas un ovni (objet vidéo non identifié) que proposent Martin De Thurah, Adam Hashemi et Lasse Martinussen pour le groupe danois Mew et leur opus Beach.

Les paroles de Beach en anglais sont évocatrices, déjà, de zigzag et de détours, d'assemblages un peu attendus et nous aurions dû nous méfier à leur écoute avant de plonger dans ce mini-court métrage qui lorgne du côté du Roi des Aulnes, du Ruban Blanc et de ces images folklo-sciencefictionnelles qui bâtissent une vision surannée et décalée des contes de nos enfances.

Passée la surprenante première partie, une espèce de réunion playa-militaire d'activation d'une dream-machine (sorte de néo-zoetrope) par des enfants fringants et glaçants, la vidéo se rend visible dans un tondo, une lorgnette cinématographique ou un hublot au choix. Une forme ronde qui évoque, sans doute, la roue du praxinoscope d'Émile Reynaud, version améliorée du zoetrope.

Un peu donc du proto-cinéma et du théâtre d'ombres qui s'accrochent ici aux basques d'une narration aventurière et magique, centrée sur le motif de la montagne (ou du volcan puisque tout semble prendre double sens). On découvre des personnages mi-homme-mi-chose et mi-machine-avant-gardiste, dans un grand barnum de références séquencées comme un hommage absurde aux théâtres des boulevards d'un Paris fin de XIXe siècle fasciné par la magie de la science et ses possibilités.


beach4.pngbeach5.pngbeach6.png
Mew, Beach, 2010 (photogrammes extraits de la vidéo par de Thurah, Hashemi et Martinussen)


Le vidéoclip est, on l'imagine, pensé comme une machine-désirante, une émancipation (peut-être ratée) des formats attendus pour éloigner une chanson --pas si poppy que ça sous ses dehors rythmés et catchy-- du sensorium visuel actuel. Ce qui tourne (littérallement) autour d'un conte de forêts, de marécages, de montagne-humaine et pleureuse, est une interprétation décalée et totalement surprenante d'un air léger qui semble avoir inspiré les réalisateurs du clip à ouvrir la machine-à-rêve surréaliste.

Les légendes nordiques m'étant quasi-inconnues dans leurs profondeurs significatrices, je ne m'aventurerai pas plus avant dans une lecture a posteriori des images projetées (ou découvertes) par le tondo. Elles sont séduisantes et illustratives. Et radicalement éloignées de la séquence finale qui reste le fragment le plus curieux du clip.


beach7.png
Mew, Beach, 2010 (photogrammes extraits de la vidéo par de Thurah, Hashemi et Martinussen)


Le final dévoile en effet une reconstruction de la montagne magique par les enfants; leurs visages salis est l'indice d'une lutte avec la terre battue pour monter un monticule à la place de la machine-à-rêve. Sans dévoiler trop de cet acmé final, notez simplement que si l'histoire de Jim Jones et de la communauté de Jonestown en Guyane ne vous évoque rien, alors peut-être cette partie du film vous semblera plus douce...





Économies de l'oeuvre

1_economies-de-l-oeuvre.jpg
2.0.1 №5
Économies de l'œuvre
Mars 2011
21 × 29,7 cm
64 pages -- 800 ex.

Frédéric Cavé & Damien Keller. -- Luc Moullet : l'homme des combines.
François Aubart. -- Entretien avec castillo/corrales.
Fabien Pinaroli. -- Artist Placement Group : le futur antérieur.
Bruno Méziane. -- De quoi cherchait-il à sortir ?
Lilian Froger. -- Transposition : l'exposition The Family of Man au Japon.
Cristelle Terroni. -- Spaces (MoMA , décembre 1969 -- mars 1970). L'art de l'installation à l'épreuve du musée.


Red Tape

RT.png

Le département de Communication Art et Design du Royal College of Art à Londres a dernièrement lancé une série de conférences-discussions autour de thématiques allant de la Fiction à la Désobéissance en passant par l'Archive comme production.

L'avantage de ces discussions du mercredi tient au site Red Tape qui enregistre et propose en amont des «readers», pièces pré-archivales et sources en aval de. Autant d'éléments collectibles et susceptibles de susciter de nouvelles discussions in et out du RCA.


Myths

ZG_magazine_1988.jpg

Nous reparlerons de la revue ZG dans un autre billet. Dans le numéro double de 1988 est publié un très bon entretien avec le pape de la science-fiction J.G. Ballard. À lire absolument ici ou sur le site éponyme. (en v.o. exclusivement, cela vous fera un bon exercice!)


MYTHS OF THE NEAR FUTURE
--

Transcribed by Mike Holliday

Mike's introduction: Here's another old interview with JG Ballard from a rather obscure source. This one is from ZG magazine, in a special issue titled "Altered States" and co-published with Kent Fine Art in New York. This particular issue acted as a catalogue for the "Altered States" exhibition that ran at Kent Fine Art in April/May 1988. The theme was "that concepts of space and time are undergoing radical change", and how this has impacted on our culture.
"I think of science fiction writers as thinkers. They try to figure out the consequences and implications of things in as thoughtful a way as possible. A couple of hundred years from now (these writers) will be considered the important philosophers of the twentieth century, and the professional philosophers will almost all be forgotten, because they're just shallow and wrong, and their ideas aren't very powerful". These are the words of Professor Marvin Minsky, the co-founder of artificial intelligence and a major research figure in the media lab at MIT in Boston.
J. G. Ballard, author of
Crash, High-Rise and Empire of the Sun among many others, has never suffered under the delusion that science fiction was ever anything else: "Everything is becoming science fiction. From the margins of an almost invisible literature has sprung the intact reality of the 20th century. What the writers of modern science fiction invent today, you and I will do tomorrow..."
ZG Magazine interviewed him at his home in Shepperton, England.

--

ZG: I noticed you have a copy of Icarus up on your bookshelf. The idea of Icarus seems to be rooted in your book The Unlimited Dream Company. And, in a sense, flight seems to be one of the most dominant images in your writing.

JGB: Yes, that's true. Flight does play a very important part in my fiction -- though I never consciously think about Icarus or The Ancient Mariner's albatross or a thousand and one other archetypal images when I write. But that's simply because there's a common pool of archetypal imagery that we all draw on willy-nilly. By and large, we all use the same kind of symbol systems. To mammals like ourselves who are anchored to the ground and yet able to imagine, flight has a whole repertory of powerful meanings. To me it just represents a means of transcending one's own particular time and space and moving to a radically different realm.

I've always felt strongly that there's a profound magic in airports -- and even more so in runways. Deserted runways have a tremendous magnetic pull for me. I can stare forever at aerial photographs of those islands in the Pacific which have abandoned runways -- although some of them are still in use by the US army and navy. But they are so powerful as images. The concrete strip just beckons one into new realms. Indeed, any major airport in the world charges me with a powerful sense of inspiration: they offer new points of departure for the imagination.

ZG: Do you know the writings of the French theorist, Paul Virilio? I mention him because there seems to be a convergence of interests in the ideas of flight and time consciousness. In Pure War he talks about Howard Hughes: about how he created a world of temporal habitation for himself in an effort to cheat time itself. But he ended up as a "technological monk in the desert of Las Vegas", atrophied in a changing world of speed.

JGB: That's really interesting. Actually, I've always found Howard Hughes a terrifically sympathetic character. I absolutely endorse his climbing into the penthouse suite of an hotel in Las Vegas and closing the door on the rest of existence. I admired him for doing that. He's a wonderfully enigmatic figure. He embodies all the great myths of the 20th century in his character and in his life. This young aviator ace was also a great explorer and inventor; bought himself movie studios and airlines; and was extremely rich but untouched by the trappings of wealth. Then there was his obsession with germs. He sort of died of AIDS (not the real AIDS but the imaginary, symbolic AIDS) before his time. He really sums up so many of the obsessions and paranoias of this century. And he was totally American too, in a very attractive way; an utterly democratic man. One can imagine him eating at McDonald's when he was younger -- something no European millionaire would ever do!

ZG: He reminds me of many of the heroes of your books in so many ways. I associate you and Virilio because you do seem to share a common theme; that time has somehow annihilated space and that, now, time is annihilating itself. It's as though we've reached this state of inertia in which, in a sense, we can now only live within our own constructed worlds. That sounds like a classic description of your stories.

JGB: I agree. I think that time, in the strict sense, is dying. The whole progress of the 20th century has been described in terms of death and decline. But I remember too, that the late '30s and '40s were periods of enormously accelerating change. That was the period when the 20th century really invented itself. The super technologies, the military technologies and so on; the changes were absolutely colossal. Time just seemed to race past and govern everything. And this change continued until after World War II. Since then however, everything's begun to slow down. Probably the first casualty of Hiroshima and Nagasaki was the concept of the Future. I think the Future died some time in the '50s. Maybe with the explosion of the hydrogen bomb.

In the '30s and '40s people had an intense interest in the future. They saw the future as a morally superior world to the one in which they lived. All the great political movements -- the New Deal, Socialism, Fascism, Communism, whatever -- were all highly programmatic systems, symptoms of a better future. But there was so much scientific change too; from the discovery of antibiotics, to jet travel, consumer society, television. One had a tremendous sense of the future. Magazines in the '30s were full of articles about the fastest train or the fastest aircraft in the world; of how the first passenger planes would revolutionize life on the planet. Yet some time around the end of the '50s, the future somehow lost its hold. I think it died.

ZG: Didn't it just become shorter term?

JGB: Yes, partly. People certainly lost interest in the future. They began to fear the future. And partly, I think, the prosperity in the '60s and '70s induced a kind of infantilism. People stopped dealing with a time scale that lay outside of their immediate present. They began to have no sense of what had happened yesterday or of what would happen the day after tomorrow. So people became immersed in the fulfillment of their own needs and their own satisfactions. They literally lost interest in the future. But by the same token, they also lost interest in the past. These days most people's idea of the past is a rerun of "Casablanca". They have very little idea of history nowadays. So time has dismantled itself.

I can see a time, probably about midway into the next century, when time will virtually cease to exist. The present will annex both the future and the past into itself. All desires will be fulfilled and people will live in a perpetual present. It may be a bit like the movie "Star Wars" where you have a peculiar surface of events taking place. "Star Wars" is very unlike the science fiction movies of the '40s and '50s which always incorporated an intense feel of change; of how technological progress was going to radically alter life on this planet. But in "Star Wars", events take place in a timeless limbo. They don't impinge on anything outside themselves. The events could be taking place far, far into the future or far, far in the past. I imagine life itself is in danger of becoming like that.

ZG: Coupled with your interest in time, your fiction also generates an intense interest in neurology and psychology.

JGB: I've written a lot of stories in which one regime of time gives way to another and people find a new world in the imagination. I'm always taking my position from what I've read of experimental psychology which seems to suggest that the world presented to us by our central nervous system is really a ramshackle construct that serves the purposes of fairly intelligent, bi-poedal [sic] mammals of rather restricted physical and conceptual limits. We may not be able to run as fast as other mammals but we do have stronger imaginations. Our central nervous systems provide us with a kind of modus vivendi. These ramshackle constructs allow us to function within the rather limited ambit provided by our senses and by our limbs. Yet the optical center of the brain -- our visual universe -- doesn't accord with what is really out there. The central nervous system conventionalizes and irrationalizes [sic] reality for us so that we can move through time and space. But I've always felt that one must transcend that space. And there's a way of transcending this rather limited view we have of reality by using the imagination. We've inherited large parts of our view of the world from our forebears hundreds of thousands of years ago, who had much more limited means than we have now. A sense of time gave homo sapiens a way of storing, from minute to minute, information about the world. We may well have outgrown it. Our sense of time itself may now be rather outdated.

But there's an unlimited scope for change and transformation. We can see it now in the sciences. The pace of scientific change is enormous. People aren't aware of it. Most people are scientifically illiterate. The changes that are taking place are only really meaningful to comparatively few specialists in the field. Yet the changes are colossal. Maybe future historians will look back on the 20th century and dismiss the entire artistic field of fiction, poetry or the visual arts as completely irrelevant and as having no value whatsoever; where the greatest achievements of the human imagination in the 20th century took place in the sciences. And they'd probably be right.

ZG: But the sciences, of course, are providing cultural changes anyway. Scientific and technological worlds are providing us with things that we are only now beginning to conceive of as having any basis in our realities; concepts that were literally in the most way-out realms of science fiction only a few years ago - cloning, in vitro fertilization and so on. How do you think of the world of the fifth generation computer? Do you think it's going to be McLuhan's Global Village? Or are we going to be our own "technological monks" in our own self-creating worlds? Is life going to be this fractured experience that it was in the '70s? Or is everyone going to be tuned into "Dallas" for eternity?

JGB: The notion of community which is kept alive now by television and by almost nothing else, may be passing. There's a sort of post-TV generation now who no longer watch TV. They spend their leisure time in various hobby activities like Tai Chi, scuba diving, playing bridge, badminton -- you name it. They simply have no time for television. They don't seem to need it anymore. So life will become so diversified and different by the end of the century that it will be hard to know if there is such a thing as a national culture. People will have retreated into their own heads.

ZG: Do you see this as good or bad? You're ambiguous in your fiction.

JGB: A lot of my fiction is cautionary. It deals with possible end points or trends. I wrote a short story called "The Intensive Care Unit" about a world where people never meet. They simply make contact via TV. Marriage is conducted hundreds of miles apart. And in my story I visualize a man who actually decides to meet his wife and children in the flesh. Of course, it's a disaster. They just cannot bear the sensory overload. On a mere neurological level, they can't bear to be together -- rather in the way that we can't bear to be too close to strangers. So I can believe that, in the future people won't be able to bear to be in the same room as others. Or even on the same street. Of course, it's very difficult to read these kinds of aspects of the future.

ZG: It doesn't seem improbable though, does it, given what is already happening? I mean Michael Jackson walks around wearing a surgical mask because of his obsession with germs. He doesn't like people to touch him. And AIDS has brought about a tremendous fear of touch or contact with other human beings.

JGB: Well, exactly. That's another factor, isn't it? There's almost a sinister sense in which AIDS is a metaphor for all kinds of processes -- whether you call them diseases or not -- that are leading, or inviting similar separations on the viral level. It's almost as if AIDS is a disease that it was necessary for the human race to discover so as to justify all these alienated processes that are taking place on other levels. It's a curious and very terrifying disease. It's almost like a science fiction disease. It's unbelievable. And I say "unbelievable" because I'm not even sure whether to believe the statistics. In parts of Africa for example, they say ten percent of the population have the disease. And if that's true, the population in that part of the world could be extinct in thirty or forty years.

But the whole thing does seem like a designer disease. It's as though our hour has come. The disease has provided a kind of underpinning to the whole processes of alienation that have been taking place in our culture in the last ten years to my mind. AIDS seems to put a cap on it. Whenever the population density increases, in order to hang on to their mental space, people do tend to retreat into their own inward mental worlds or spaces. It seems inevitable.


Sunday Book Fair

Duijvenboden_cover.jpg
Roma Publications, No Mirror Can Guard You, by Nickel van Duijvenboden, 2011


Art institutions and small publishing houses in the Netherlands offer a wide variety of publications that focus on contemporary art and art theory. Often with a particular emphasis in subject matter, these publishers contribute in a significant and meaningful way to the international discourse of contemporary art. With the Sunday Book Fair - organized for the first time at the museum - the Stedelijk aims to be a platform for the presentation of recently published artists books, readers, catalogues, encyclopedia's, etc. inviting publishing houses of a modest scale to pitch their new books in the Auditorium of the Stedelijk, followed by a book fair in the museum café. So if you are looking for the latest book in the shop, come in and find out!

Program:

12.30    Auditorium is open
13.00    Brief presentations of each participant of the Sunday Book Fair:
        - Basis Aktuele Kunst (BAK), Utrecht
        - Roma Publications, Amsterdam
        - Onomatopee, Eindhoven
        - Alauda Publications, Amsterdam
        - de Appel arts centre, Amsterdam
        - CASCO - Office for Art, Design and Theory, Utrecht
        - Witte de With, Rotterdam
        - Octavo Publications, Amsterdam
        - Kunstverein, Amsterdam
        - SKOR, Amsterdam
        - post editions, Rotterdam
        - Valiz, Amsterdam
        - If I Can't Dance, I Don't Want To Be Part Of Your Revolution, Amsterdam
        - Uitgeverij De Buitenkant, Amsterdam
14.30    Book Fair at the Stedelijk Museum Café
17.00    End of Book Fair


Location: Auditorium and Museum Café, The Temporary Stedelijk 2
Stedelijk Museum
, Paulus Potterstraat 13, 
1071 CX  Amsterdam
Free entrance with valid museum ticket



Intriguant...

1405-architecture-design-muuuz-nouvelle-vague-le-nouveau-paysage-domestique-français-cedric-morriset-milan-salon-du-meuble-off-1.jpg
Pool, Souviens-toi que tu vas mourir (image via Muuuz)


1405-architecture-design-muuuz-nouvelle-vague-le-nouveau-paysage-domestique-français-cedric-morriset-milan-salon-du-meuble-off-3.jpg
Ionna Vautrin, Miroir, Oeil de Sorcière, (image via Muuuz)


Le Salon du Meuble de Milan aura bientôt lieu. En off de ce festival, Cédric Morriset présente Nouvelle Vague, le nouveau paysage domestique français. «Morriset, commissaire d'exposition, mettra en lumière les nouveaux éditeurs, les nouvelles galeries et les nouveaux designers marquants de la scène française comme A+A Cooren, Ionna Vautrin, Pierre Favresse, Studio Nocc et Pool qui présenteront des créations inédites.»

Entre miroir et crâne anamorphosé, il semble que la jeune garde du design français convoque les fantômes et les vanités dans une sorte de critique des objets et de leur(s) fonction(s). Soutenus par de jeunes galeries comme Fat galerie ou galerie Gosserez parmi d'autres, le design français cherche sa place parmi les locomotives anglo-saxonnes et hollandaises. Le storytelling et la réutilisation y sont moins perceptibles que dans d'autres travaux mais il est intéressant que la Fat galerie, qui soutient la création française, présente aussi, dans sa très jeune et déjà prometteuse écurie-design, les projets de Raw-Edges et de Peter Marigold (tous diplômés du RCA en 2006).


marigold.png
Peter Marigold, Box Legs (image Fat galerie)


Peter Marigold qui déclare d'ailleurs: «Je pense que créer des objets parfaitement finis mais sans aucune substance est un crime». Il faut voir sa pièce Box Legs, sorte de boîte de Pandore sur pied, coffre à histoires en carton. Cette substance nécessaire et dont l'absence serait criminelle doit-elle être du fait du designer? Ou alors l'utilisateur peut-il inventer ses propres «fanstasmes», sa propre substance?

En voyant cet étrange objet, trouvé au hasard de pérégrinations webiennes sur la cuisine science-fictionnelle, on peut se demander si parfois le détournement fait par les utilisateurs d'objets n'est pas aussi intéressant que la fameuse substance des designers...


unniappam-banana-fritters-01-1000.jpg
unniappam-banana-fritters-10-1000.jpg
une poêle du Kerala appellée Unniapan (côte de Malabar) - images fxcuisine.com



AABF 2011

bg.gif
graphisme: Swiezynski & Goertz


La toute jeune Foire du Livre d'Amsterdam plus acronymement appelée AABF (Amsterdam Art/Book Fair) aura lieu les 14 et 15 Mai durant la Amsterdam Art Week. Organisée par Delphine Bedel et Yannick Bouillis, l'AAFB propose des tables rondes et une programmation alléchante. La foire est acceuillie par le Centre Culturel Flamand De Brakke Grond et il est plus que recommandé d'y assister, de belles surprises vous y attendent!

NB. Delphine Bedel, Yannick Bouillis et Thomas Buxó avaient proposé dans le cadre de la conférence de Bouillis et Buxó aux beaux-arts, une sélection de publications qui pouvaient être vues dans la caravane ICI.


Gold Panda



Ronni Shendar a réalisé la vidéo de Marriage, musique assez sublime-pop de Gold Panda, DJ originaire de Chemlsford dont les langoureux mix appelaient certainement cette imagerie floutez-jeunesse et ces gros plans qui brisent le détail en compositions colorées forcément évocatrices de tout... comme le disait Xavier Beauvois à propos de son film Des Hommes et des Dieux: «je ne fais pas des images, je fais des plans». A contrario Shendar fait des images, creuses et belles, portées par la musique sans aucun doute... Belles vacances!


Jon Stanley Austin

59_12.jpg
Jon Stanley Austin, Always Another Summer, c.2010


59_1.jpg
Jon Stanley Austin, Always Another Summer, c.2010


58_10.jpg
Jon Stanley Austin, Last Things, c.2010


58_5b.jpg
Jon Stanley Austin, Last Things, c.2010


58_1.jpg
Jon Stanley Austin, Last Things, c.2010


Photographe de Leeds, Jon Stanley Austin revisite la vie quotidienne, ces instants qui passent, lassitude du toujours pareil. Sa série Always Another Summer résume cet épuisement de ce qui revient toujours, des moments dos tournés, à la volée, dans un genre qui frôle la mauvaise photographie. C'est justement pour ce côté amateur-mateur, qui s'efface dans la série Last Things, qu'il faut aller regarder ce travail, encore balbutiant, brillant de tics visuels mais qui confine parfois au sublime d'un aigle d'or ou d'une statue cachée sous un bureau empire...


The Serving Library

e1c3b6fc4aedb87ed7f6317fea1bec5d03d1f02c_640x480.jpg
image David Reinfurt


David Reinfurt, Stuart Bailey et Angie Keefer, après avoir bousculé le monde de l'édition des revues axées graphisme et art, se tournent maintenant vers la bibliothèque (library en anglais). Leur projet, The Serving Library, reconsidère les modèles d'archivage et de diffusion, les confond en une nouvelle entité: la bibliothèque utile ou la bibliothèque-service. Une sorte d'archive se bâtissant in vivo, au fur et à mesure des publications.

«The Serving Library is a collectively-built archive. It consists of three parts: 1. an ambitious public website; 2. a small physical library space; 3. a publishing program which runs both through the website (#1) and through the space (#2). This is a long-term project being developed by Stuart Bailey, Angie Keefer and David Reinfurt. Together we are just beginning  so we need your help to build our library and construct a new model for this old institution.

The first libraries were built on an Archiving model. In the Archiving Library, information and artifacts were collected, concentrated and protected in one central place. On July 1, 1731, Benjamin Franklin established the first Circulating Library in Philadelphia. Books were quite expensive, so by pooling resources many volumes could be shared among contributing members, and, the books moved around. Now, we propose a new model that joins the Archiving Library to the Circulating Library -- The Serving Library.

The Serving Library is an archive assembled by publishing. Publishing and archiving have always been either end of a continuous loop, but now on an electronic network like the Internet, the two activities are both simultaneous and indistinguishable. This makes particularly small public libraries increasingly redundant. It's time to reconsider what kind of library makes sense right now, and suggest one possible way forward.

The Serving Library follows directly from ten years of independently publishing Dot Dot Dot, a biannual arts journal printed in a run of 3000 copies, with broad international distribution co-founded by Stuart Bailey in 2000. Dot Dot Dot then led to establishing Dexter Sinister in 2006, a self-described "Just-in-Time Workshop and Occasional Bookstore" run from a modest basement on the Lower East Side of New York City. Evolving from a publication to a bookstore, we now want to expand from these relatively private activities to a more properly public sphere by developing a new library where materials are collectively produced, assembled and pooled to maintain a body of shared information that serves the committed community who helped make it.

We will build our library by publishing. Bulletins of the Serving Library will be a hybrid electronic / printed publication offered first as PDF files freely available, released in serial form on www.servinglibrary.org. Twice a year, these concise booklets will be collected, printed, bound and distributed. We're ready to publish the first collection of Bulletins now. This first set directly addresses libraries, archives and collections and includes "An Octopus in Plan View" by Angie Keefer, an 8-part text on communication organized around the anatomy of an octopus; "From O-1: Information on Libraries & From 1-0: Information on Recording" by Rob Giampietro & David Reinfurt, on the paradox of contemporary archiving in the face of the Internet; and "The Life and Death of Media" by Bruce Sterling, an out-of-time plea for compiling an exhaustive list of outdated media formats.»


Le cut-up de John

stezaker_01.jpg
stezaker_05.jpgimages John Stezaker et Whitechapel gallery (merci!)


Il sera question de collage dans l'exposition-rétrospective de John Stezaker à la Whitechapel Gallery de Londres jusqu'au 18 Mars 2011. De collage(s) et de fragments forcément, cette manière-matière qui raconte la fascination pour les résidus de l'ère de la reproduction mécanisée. D'intervalles aussi tant Stezaker joue de cette question de l'entre, de l'image comme montage-collision.

Le collage est cette mécanique qui, du cubisme au pop art, aura interrogé le rôle des images, leur puissance quand côte-à-côte, demantibulées, assemblées, montées, recouvertes, elles «racontent» une autre théâtralité. Peut-être comme une séquence sur plateau où les décors au lieu de tenir sur des cintres, se confondraient et se confronteraient en permanence.


Herbert Matter

matter_zhdk.jpg
affiche par Cristiana Couceiro


Un film de Reto Carduff sur le travail du graphiste suisse Herbert Matter. Dans la lignée des films Helvetica, un tour d'horizon de la grande époque de la photographie au service du graphisme. À voir donc le jour de sa diffusion en France...