Lucy Harris

Filmed on location in the empty Olympic venues built for the Berlin 1936 Olympics, the interweaving of the architecture and two fencers performing a series of choreographed gestures, creates a tense dialogue between distinct architectural spaces disrupted by a legacy of past gestures.

Following a fire in the studio, this film is a result of the after-effects of the smoke damage. The smoke left a negative imprint on every surface, in every drawer, in every box. Solid marks and traces remained ‘fixed’ as photographs, ‘exposed’ as photograms. These ‘negatives’ are re-exposed as a 16mm film.

The greatest British film company emblematically deconstructed.

During lockdown I started an experiment, filming each full moon for a year. I also tried to ‘understand’ lunar science but whatever books I read I couldn’t seem to hold the facts in my head. Instead, each month I was surprised by the things I observed directly – a fingernail sliver moon, a punch hole in the sky. Because the repetition of that act of filming meant I noticed both consistency and changes – clear nights, cloudy nights, masked moons, moving moons. Filming made me stop and look. A vital reminder: it’s the looking that matters.

Filmed on location in the empty Olympic venues built for the Berlin 1936 Olympics, the interweaving of the architecture and two fencers performing a series of choreographed gestures, creates a tense dialogue between distinct architectural spaces disrupted by a legacy of past gestures.

Following a fire in the studio, this film is a result of the after-effects of the smoke damage. The smoke left a negative imprint on every surface, in every drawer, in every box. Solid marks and traces remained ‘fixed’ as photographs, ‘exposed’ as photograms. These ‘negatives’ are re-exposed as a 16mm film.

The greatest British film company emblematically deconstructed.

During lockdown I started an experiment, filming each full moon for a year. I also tried to ‘understand’ lunar science but whatever books I read I couldn’t seem to hold the facts in my head. Instead, each month I was surprised by the things I observed directly – a fingernail sliver moon, a punch hole in the sky. Because the repetition of that act of filming meant I noticed both consistency and changes – clear nights, cloudy nights, masked moons, moving moons. Filming made me stop and look. A vital reminder: it’s the looking that matters.