THE INANIMAS WHO FORGOT
HOW TO BREATHE

Trailer for a short film piece exploring narratives of time and vulnerability in a period of flux during the Covid-19 outbreak.  

I sit here concocting this film piece with more time to dedicate in the studio than ever before.  It is as though I am coming back into myself, that I am able to stop and be still.  We seem to be playing in one of life's cruellest games.  Whilst some of us can take time to pause this is only happening because others are dying from a virus that stops us from breathing.  There is no time to waste.  Byung-Chul Han writes of the 'atomisation of time' and it is not a sustainable existence.

 

 

This short film piece will explore narratives of time and vulnerability in a period of flux during the Covid-19 outbreak.  An ecology of matter and imagination will infuse the works in a bid to engage with something tangible yet escapist to unpick and to try to come to terms with the change in reality.  Prose, stop-motion animation and live action will tell the tale of an ‘Inanimas’, a driven female who, like others, counts time as currency and lives fast-paced.  As such, ‘Vulnermois’, wee and saggy mice-men feed on the oils she excretes as she atomises her time and self for economic gain and infinite personal development.  Under lockdown the Inanimas is gifted time to nurture herself, and the Vulnermois.  The change in character will show in the Vulnermois’ transformation; they will grow plump and hairy; they will sing instead of slurping with their willy-tails and the Inanimas will learn to breathe steadily.

 

 

A looping film shot in ratio 1080x1920: the orientation of a mobile-phone screen mimicking the window we receive pandemic updates. To be projected on a floor-to-ceiling backdrop, or, intimate stage with chairs_monitor_headphones. Award would fund time to produce film (3 weeks) and purchase: stainless-steel armature(£249), installation materials: 2x4 CLS timber(£100), 3x6 projection muslin(£50).

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Behind the Scenes

Inanimas spend time 

On everything, always

No time for nothing

Each moment filled

Mindless doing, never

Mindless mindfulness

Speeding up, living

No life of steadiness

Time to breathe

Few and far fewer

The body here

The mind there

Neither connected

As the cut deepens

The separation draws oil

And the Vulnermois drinks

With sad and phallic

Dicktail slurps

As wee hands caress

For this secretion

Thirsty and insistent -

Until, the virus hit.

© Kate Bell Artist 2020 | All Rights Reserved