exile, 2020
video installation, colour, sound, 4K, 32 min., shipping crate, carpet, projector, headphones, energy storage device
It is dark. Only a fluorescent lamp flickers irregularly, making its characteristic buzzing noise in the vast echo chamber of a menacing concrete building. A group of young men with shoulder bags stand as if transfixed in front of a huge turbine. They listen intently, then delve into their bags, put on protective clothing and masks and climb down deeper into the catacombs of the service area that surrounds them.
Sebastian Weise‘s documentary film Exile (2020) is an observation made among a group of graffiti spray painters in Vienna that was recorded over several nights in the summer of 2019. The title, which refers to self-chosen, inner exile, stands for the lifestyle of the protagonists, who lead a double life vis-à-vis their friends, partners, and family. For their nocturnal hobby involves committing punishable offences. It’s the only reason they’re here tonight, driven by the urge to go all out, and by the fear of falling into the clutches of security guards and law enforcement agencies in the process. The film accompanies the group as they gain access to an underground labyrinth of railway sidings, ventilation shafts, and maintenance facilities, and as they advance cautiously but nimbly into ever new parts of the building.
Only slowly and hesitantly individual, synthetic surfaces emerge on the audio level from the ambient noises of the engine rooms. At the same time the handheld camera is manoeuvred so calmly and deliberately that one might almost be prepared to question whether the whole action is actually secret. Yet this impression does not last for long, for already in the next image the camera and the actors hide out under the siding while an employee of the transport services, unaware that he is being observed, walks past the intruders. In the last third of the film the group does go back to spraying – underlaid by intoxicating arpeggios from an Alex.Do’s soundtrack – until the cans are empty, and while his mates are already lying in wait near the exit, ready to flee, one of the actors decides to tackle the interiors of the carriage and of the engine driver’s compartment with a fat cap. This burst of energy on the part of the protagonists also infects the camera and editing: Everything now starts to move faster – left, right, left, POV, let’s scram, then the camera lurches – a blurred floodlight, the sound of hectic steps on the gravel of the track bed and the sound surfaces suddenly pitch down as well, the screen goes pitch black, and the closing credits appear.
(...) continue reading
exil, 2020
video installation, colour, sound, 4K,
shipping crate, carpet, projector, headphones, energy storage device
It is dark. Only a fluorescent lamp flickers irregularly, making its characteristic buzzing noise in the vast echo chamber of a menacing concrete building. A group of young men with shoulder bags stand as if transfixed in front of a huge turbine. They listen intently, then delve into their bags, put on protective clothing and masks and climb down deeper into the catacombs of the service area that surrounds them.
Sebastian Weise‘s documentary film Exile (2020) is an observation made among a group of graffiti spray painters in Vienna that was recorded over several nights in the summer of 2019. The title, which refers to self-chosen, inner exile, stands for the lifestyle of the protagonists, who lead a double life vis-à-vis their friends, partners, and family. For their nocturnal hobby involves committing punishable offences. It’s the only reason they’re here tonight, driven by the urge to go all out, and by the fear of falling into the clutches of security guards and law enforcement agencies in the process. The film accompanies the group as they gain access to an underground labyrinth of railway sidings, ventilation shafts, and maintenance facilities, and as they advance cautiously but nimbly into ever new parts of the building.
Only slowly and hesitantly individual, synthetic surfaces emerge on the audio level from the ambient noises of the engine rooms. At the same time the handheld camera is manoeuvred so calmly and deliberately that one might almost be prepared to question whether the whole action is actually secret. Yet this impression does not last for long, for already in the next image the camera and the actors hide out under the siding while an employee of the transport services, unaware that he is being observed, walks past the intruders. In the last third of the film the group does go back to spraying – underlaid by intoxicating arpeggios from an Alex.Do’s soundtrack – until the cans are empty, and while his mates are already lying in wait near the exit, ready to flee, one of the actors decides to tackle the interiors of the carriage and of the engine driver’s compartment with a fat cap. This burst of energy on the part of the protagonists also infects the camera and editing: Everything now starts to move faster – left, right, left, POV, let’s scram, then the camera lurches – a blurred floodlight, the sound of hectic steps on the gravel of the track bed and the sound surfaces suddenly pitch down as well, the screen goes pitch black, and the closing credits appear.
(...) continue reading