Installation, one projector, film reels, 16 mm celluloid, 2006

A projector in a room spills the contents of a film reel onto the floor. After the film ends the visitor is advised to check with the gallery attendant to rethread the projector with a full reel of film. For the interval in which there is no visitor the projector remains running with the lamp on until there is a reel change. Over the course of the exhibition there emerges an uncontrollable growing heap of celluloid flooding the gallerys floor. A light spill, so to speak.

To my eyes the most interesting work is that of Sandra Gibson and Luis Recoder, Light Spill, in which a movie projector uninterruptedly unwinds its film, which then cascades upon the floor in the absence of a second reel. The projected image is fuzzy and indistinct, but that is significant, as one sees only the conical shape of the raw, organic brown matter, the animated jolts and jerks, the glutinous, algae-like appearance in the incessant play of the light. During the show, the attendant audience, amused and anxious, discretely ponders: What would happen at the end of the reel? The performance moved from the screen to the pile of film, from the pile to the audience themselves, and finally from the audience to the lovely museum employee who, braving the brown froth, comes to install a new film reel, but, it seems, a sumptuous pied de nez, only if a visitor is present. For an hour or two, the new film will in its turn be spewed out upon the floor, light spill, like an oil spill, a black tide.
Le Monde

"In our installation work, we use projected light to articulate space and time. Film projectors and celluloid are the material base of our constructions in light and shadow, the elemental properties of cinema. These things are deeply imbued with a history of viewership in the dark of the theater. To remove it from darkness is to flood this history and cast a certain illumination upon it. A certain exposure. Light spills in the shifting of film from its native darkness in enclosed chambers (camera obscura) to the uncanny openness and defamiliarized illumination of installation. We are exploring the shift, elaborating the displacement, recasting the light mechanics of a peculiar estrangement of the medium. The art of cinema, yes. But more timely: the becoming cinema of art. That is the coming attraction for us."
Sandra Gibson / Luis Recoder

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