Tuesday, 1 December 2015
Friday, 16 March 2007
Charles Atlas and Fennesz
Just south of sadism, a seductive play of images.
Charles Atlas and Fennesz. The screen was huge and nostalgic. The crowd was cinema conditioned, and well behaved. A face arcs back and forth, a horizontal face, a well groomed Greek hero face. Uneasily asleep or perhaps mid-orgasm, the small gesture is blown up huge and each repetition…once more with feeling. Everything must pass. Everything must segue. From a man in the grip via transports of ecstasy – dive bomber, car crash, over and over and over and out to a field, a multiplicity of woman-masks. Eyes akimbo, teeth agrin, jittering in glittery nipple tassles and waist constricting bunny gear, washing in and out with a chained hand tortured by a match, the wacky melancholy of a cartoon chick falling from the nest.
Charles Atlas and Fennesz. The screen was huge and nostalgic. The crowd was cinema conditioned, and well behaved. A face arcs back and forth, a horizontal face, a well groomed Greek hero face. Uneasily asleep or perhaps mid-orgasm, the small gesture is blown up huge and each repetition…once more with feeling. Everything must pass. Everything must segue. From a man in the grip via transports of ecstasy – dive bomber, car crash, over and over and over and out to a field, a multiplicity of woman-masks. Eyes akimbo, teeth agrin, jittering in glittery nipple tassles and waist constricting bunny gear, washing in and out with a chained hand tortured by a match, the wacky melancholy of a cartoon chick falling from the nest.
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