My films give the spectator a lot of time to think. They communicate with everybody in a different way—you’re invited to reflect on how you experience nature and how you consume time.
A mansion, a lawn, some trees: an unmoved frontal view, 9 minutes long. We hear an off-screen voice. It si the co-director, who commands what goes on in the image. He calls up participants while the other co-director climbs a ladder and holds up a cornet that emits smoke and sparks.
A glacier. Icebergs. Cold fog gliding through the folds.
The record of a human intervention in nature: A static shot shows part of a landscape, a serene body of water in front of a mountain. A motorboat enters the picture from the right, obeying the directions sent by radio and forming a spiral in the water's surface. The boat then turns to the left and leaves the scene; solely its wake is visible for a time.