Timecode, crystal synchronisation, pilot tone. All meant to produce perfect lip sync, since our brain is quick to detect any mismatch between the moving lips and spoken words. But what if we feed it with pictures and sound apparently devoid of any connection? It will start to search for connections, connotations, patterns and regularities. Water dropping out of a kitchen tap into a dirty jar in more or less rhythmical pace, starts pounding violently when accompanied by a bassoon solo from Luciano Berio’s Sequenza XII. Ten minutes later, the same solo transfigures Emily Dickinson’s poem filmed with wild camera shakes into strokes of a Japanese Zen calligraphy master. It lends to each of seven sequences a meaning never meant to be there in the first place, just as those sequences interpret the solo in a new way. At the end there is sadness. Where did it come from? Pictures? Music? Or from within ourselves?

The video can be viewed at Ursula Blickle Video Archive. A short and painless registration is need, which gives you access to innumberable experimental films from artist based in Austria.
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