Dallas Video Festival 2008

An empty address book found in an abandoned appartment building is thrown into the sea, washing up scribbles of people on the beach. If you repeatedly forgot every person you knew, and searched for ciphers that might remain, you might in your surrender discover the approach of some imaginary person, half sensed, half-glimpsed by intuition. Not a ghost, not an archetype exactly, but an empty form waiting to be filled, something like an unspoken, unremembered word. A thing as yet un-named, or already un-named by the mind and time, shifting identities like a mutinous fantasy.