Some time ago, a whalebone box that was found washed up on a remote beach was given to writer Iain Sinclair. Once touched the box can change lives. In 2018 filmmaker Andrew Kötting, photographer Anonymous Bosch and Sinclair take the box on a reverse pilgrimage from London back to the Isle of Harris.
British artists Andrew and Eden Kötting and author Iain Sinclair venture into the depths of mythmaking to return a singular, mysterious artifact. Haunting soundscapes and a textured mix of analog and digital footage turn The Whalebone Box into a playful, highly surreal psychogeographic road movie.
I loved this film. I’ve watched others by this guy and they slip by like a fever dream... It’s like an action film for the mind... I didn’t really take anything from it, but it was a joy to experience.
Bill Drumond’s 45 wrapped in the Joe Frank Radio Hour with Ivor Cutler mashed by Adam Curtis. Initially sceptical from reviews the found footage / public service broadcasting / Betamax cut style of this is mesmerising. It’s a document from a different age - John peel, the orb, steven Jessie Bernstein, Julian cope came to mind. Pre-digital and beguiling. I can understand people not liking it but I was utterly taken.
A poignant, mesmeric study of meaning-making, part wild imagining, part farce. Kotting spotlights, often tenderly, the randomness of human communication. The way we just string stuff together, with no real clue what anything means, neither alone nor collectively. Things mean whatever we make them, we must find and decide for ourselves. That is the only real freedom there is in this world, would seem his implication.
I apologise but I thought this was dreadful, I think I must lack the intelligence to appreciate it. It was terribly tedious, pompous and seemed very pleased with itself about being very intellectual. I watched The Blood of the Poet the day before, a film which also seeks to work beyond narrative. This was far better.
There was a moment when some French rap came on the sound track, which I enjoyed.
Not for me. I have no framework to approach this from. Frankly, I found parts of the film disturbing. It was like seeing and hearing something I wasn't meant to be exposed to. That was only sometimes. The rest of the time two old white guys talked shite about this recalling that and "earth batteries" and healing and other bollocks. Maybe I know nothing about avant-garde art, or maybe this is a waste of 83 minutes.