22/1/16 --- ZM

➿ 🙅🏾 👤

I think it’s important to start by saying that I really liked this. Like, TWP has always written in an unashamedly subjective way, and I have always been biased. But recently me and Gab have been talking about disclosing our biases; like, if we should state them and make it clear where we’re writing from. So disclaimer; I like this work nd here’s why::;;;;:::


Pinpoints are sneezed out and the camera kinda splutters; I’ve been weirdly obsessed with the aesthetic of military screens /// control rooms, cross-hairs. Like when u wonder what ur hair looks like from the back. 

This must be like a super concentrated version of that feeling like ur being watched, but I’m in an unfamiliar position in that transaction. I am normally subject, and now I’m in someone else’s seat that’s still warm from when they were sitting ~ick~. 

I wrote in my notes: “I feel complicit and angry”

The figure is hunched over and pale; I feel bad for saying that, it feels shitty of me to say. 

The green screen behind goes transparent /// backgrounds rub against each other, along the grain. 

A dead lizard floats on a river // my uncle in Gajipur has a farm; I miss the river and the plants and the sky. Speaking about it afterwards, my boy thought it was weird that I felt at home; he felt on edge. He said he thought it was meant to look unfamiliar (READ: OTHER). 

The calibrated pinpoints fade out // lights flicker // rain pours /// I didn’t realise that the stool was overturned until it cut to black and the light had burned a shadow of the shape into my eyes.


The text was specific. 

idk where it came from. It felt like a narrativised violation, but I didn’t know what that violation felt like or what shape it was bc it was just text jumping around on a screen. For me to feel empathy I think I’d need a voice or a body; but I’m glad it was just text. Idk where empathy /// sympathy ~misplaced pathos~ would sit in relation to the hunched, pale figure that came before & after the text. (Abjection & pathos; a lovely recipe 4 the brown subject. I was glad this work stood away from that.)

I still recognised it as a familiar smell —\- like gaze but more invasive —/- the smell of being watched maybe? 

I didn’t know how or where to place the specific and familiar kind of violation the text describes. I think I was trying to process the way my empathy should have felt; it had a rhythm. And the sounds disturbed me from feeling too quickly (they made it cold). Bc like a horror movie sound track, they amplified the feeling of the image(text); and the image(text) was cold too. 

It was all very strange. 

We left quietly. 

Bc it was a not-easily-located-feeling that was also familiar; but I wasn’t so sure how. 

It was that feeling when something happens and you think it’s bad or wrong, but you can’t quite voice how or why ;;;; u just know it is. 

 (I’ve just realised that feeling might be the feeling of being stripped of agency. It’s the feeling I got when I was on a school trip to the Houses of Parliament, and me and a hijabi girl were the only girls in my year that got sent through the metal detectors. That feeling at the base of ur throat when u have to move on and swallow a lump bc it’s not worth it. But you’ve still traded something in, whether u know what it was or not? u get me? It’s a vague press on the front of ur throat.)


I only read the handout text that evening; I fished it out of my bag by accident n I wish I hadn’t. Bc this film affected/effected(?) me. And I think its power was in that v specific // implicit & vague // that cold familiarity. And I liked that. It made it unstable, and I thought that instability was amazing. I feel like maybe issues get reduced when u itemise them, name them, and place them into something quantifiable. Something happened when the work went from something felt and understood ~bodily~; to something known. It made the lump in my throat easier to swallow, maybe bc it went from experience to explanation (but also, maybe I am just scared of the didactic???) I was angry at the handout text bc it gave the disembodied/voiceless text a voice & a body. I was much happier with that vagueness staying as a feeling ~ carrying the lump in my throat with me as I walked on down the road. I think u should be able to make a work about a political thing without making a political work; I think I was angry at the handout for politicising something I knew and felt through my body. Just text: untied from body and voice is difficult to categorise; nd when u can’t categorise it, it forces u to chew it over properly (there’s a word: ~mouthfeel~ idk what it means but it sits well here).


I hope no one reads the handout: this work deserves to be felt separately and clean from ur empathy. 

Brother to brother is showing @ Jerwood Space as part of their Solo Presentations 2017; it's on till 26th Feb xoxo


b͓̽e͓̽s͓̽t͓̽ ͓̽v͓̽i͓̽e͓̽w͓̽e͓̽d͓̽ ͓̽i͓̽n͓̽ ͓̽l͓̽a͓̽n͓̽d͓̽s͓̽c͓̽a͓̽p͓̽e͓̽
͓̽o͓̽r͓̽ ͓̽o͓̽n͓̽ ͓̽a͓̽ ͓̽d͓̽e͓̽s͓̽k͓̽t͓̽o͓̽p͓̽

{ 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔬𝔫𝔩𝔶 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔰𝔬𝔫 𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔚𝔥𝔦𝔱𝔢 𝔓𝔲𝔟𝔢 𝔠𝔞𝔫 𝔰𝔱𝔦𝔩𝔩 𝔢𝔵𝔦𝔰𝔱 𝔦𝔰 𝔟𝔢𝔠𝔞𝔲𝔰𝔢 𝔰𝔬𝔪𝔢 𝔬𝔣 𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔯𝔰 𝔠𝔥𝔬𝔬𝔰𝔢 𝔱𝔬 𝔰𝔲𝔭𝔭𝔬𝔯𝔱 𝔲𝔰 𝔢𝔞𝔠𝔥 𝔪𝔬𝔫𝔱𝔥 𝔳𝔦𝔞 𝔓𝔞𝔱𝔯𝔢𝔬𝔫. 𝔚𝔢 𝔰𝔬𝔪𝔢𝔱𝔦𝔪𝔢𝔰 𝔡𝔬 𝔱𝔞𝔩𝔨𝔰 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔧𝔬𝔟𝔰 𝔟𝔲𝔱 𝔓𝔞𝔱𝔯𝔢𝔬𝔫 𝔦𝔰 𝔥𝔬𝔴 𝔴𝔢 𝔤𝔢𝔱 𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔡 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔲𝔞𝔩 𝔴𝔯𝔦𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢 - 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔯𝔢𝔳𝔦𝔢𝔴𝔰 𝔫 𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔱𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔤𝔥𝔱𝔰 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔰𝔬 𝔬𝔫. 𝔄𝔫𝔡 𝔦𝔱'𝔰 𝔰𝔬 𝔦𝔪𝔭𝔬𝔯𝔱𝔞𝔫𝔱 𝔱𝔬 𝔲𝔰 2 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔴𝔢 𝔠𝔞𝔫 𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔶 𝔦𝔫𝔡𝔢𝔭𝔢𝔫𝔡𝔢𝔫𝔱 𝔠𝔯𝔦𝔱𝔦𝔠𝔰 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔱 𝔱𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝔱𝔬 𝔟𝔦𝔤 𝔣𝔲𝔫𝔡𝔢𝔯𝔰 𝔬𝔯 𝔦𝔫𝔰𝔱𝔦𝔱𝔲𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫𝔰, 𝔭𝔲𝔟𝔩𝔦𝔠 𝔬𝔯 𝔭𝔯𝔦𝔳𝔞𝔱𝔢. 𝔗𝔥𝔞𝔫𝔨 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔟𝔢𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔬𝔩𝔡 𝔱𝔦𝔪𝔢𝔶 𝔭𝔞𝔱𝔯𝔬𝔫𝔰 - 𝔴𝔢'𝔩𝔩 𝔡𝔬 𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔟𝔢𝔰𝔱 𝔱𝔬 𝔭𝔯𝔬𝔡𝔲𝔠𝔢 𝔮𝔲𝔞𝔩𝔦𝔱𝔶 𝔬𝔲𝔱𝔭𝔲𝔱; 𝔴𝔯𝔦𝔱𝔢 𝔰𝔱𝔲𝔣𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔦𝔰 𝔱𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔤𝔥𝔱𝔣𝔲𝔩 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔰𝔦𝔫𝔠𝔢𝔯𝔢. }

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