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Lost in the Memory Palace | The Dark Pool
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pyramids kept razor blades sharp, or why
this dark pool wasn't able to have
anything floating on it, or why it was
defying the laws of gravity.
BC: So in one sense the whole piece was a
projection into a doubtful future?
GBM: But it was also about the
accumulation of knowledge and how
impossible it is to actually know anything.
BC: Did you have sources for your notion of
layering text and sound? Were there
models–either literary or visual–that you
had been thinking about?
GBM: We were reading a lot of science
fiction, a lot of Philip K. Dick. In some
ways he's a really bad pulp writer but he
has incredibly interesting and weird
ideas. We were also reading William
Gibson, the cyberpunk novelist.
JC: And that fantastic book by Neil
Stevenson called
Snow Crash
that has
interesting ideas of layering and the
analogy of cyberspace that relate to
Borges and his
Library of Babel.
As well
as to the original Tower of Babel.
BC: What I find in your text are poetic
moments that seem to be very suggestive,
conscious writing. How much pressure do
you put on yourself as a scriptwriter?
JC: Quite a bit actually. The writing goes
through tons and tons of modification. I
consider myself quite a bad writer so I
have to really work at it. The type of
writers that I like are Michael Ondaatje;
Coming through Slaughter
is amazingly
layered. Perhaps it's just where we are in
our century or something. Because of
editing on television we're able to
understand the language of fragment and
this structure of fragmentation. Kids
today can read books, watch TV and
listen to a CD at the same time and get
meanings out of all of them.
GB: A lot of Canadian writers have that
layering sense Janet mentioned. Robert
Kroetsch is an amazing Western writer.
BC: One of his poetry books that I've always
admired is Seed Catalogue. It has the line
"bring me the radish seeds my mother
whispered," a fragment that suggests a
subtle degree of intimacy. The reason I raise
it is because whispering has a lot to do with
the way your pieces work. You're literally in
the listener's ear and giving gentle
instructions or teasing insinuations, like,
"I'll tell you about that later." How does
intimacy play into the work?
JC: Something you said made me
remember that when we were building
The Dark Pool
at the Walter Phillips
Gallery, our nephew, he was 14 at the
time and had lived on a boat all his life,
came into the room and said, this is just
like Myst. He understood it as a
completely interactive world.
GBM: Only it's three-dimensional Myst.
JC: But he was touching everything as he
went along, because his is a hands-on
generation. But to answer your question
more directly: intimacy is a really
important part of it. To me it's like
surrogate relationships. I get letters and
e-mails from people all over the place
about how important the walk was for
them. It's a false intimacy that's set up, of
course, but it's the same kind of intimacy
that you get from a writer's voice when
you're reading. This way it's actually
connected to you. I think what
accentuates it is that you hear the
footsteps and you begin walking in the
body and you hear my breath right
behind you. It's as if I am part of their
body.
GBM: It's your voice as well. She's
recording using a binaural head right at
the back, so it's like her voice is tickling
the back of your neck. Her voice isn't an
actor's voice. We work very hard to get
beyond acting, beyond reading. It seems
to exist outside any kind of mediation,
like a thinking voice, a voice inside your
head. It's also pretty sexy.
JC: It's a deliberately invisible voice.
When I'm working with actors, I'm
always saying, can you just make it a bit
flatter? It's really, really hard to get it flat
but with emotion.
BC: George is right, it's a sexy voice. Is it
caused by the circumstances of technology
or are you actually working to insinuate
yourself beyond what the technology can
offer?
JC: Well, I do say lines like, "I want you to
walk with me," and then I sometimes
accentuate the idea that we're together in
the experience.
GBM: I don't think we considered the
quality of her voice when we started
doing the walks. It just happened; it's
something you can't define and it affects
you in a certain way.
BC: Are your own footsteps metronomic for
you? As you're walking, it must be like
having a drum beat.
JC: Yeah, I'm monitoring at the same time
as I'm recording, so I do hear them.
BC: Your movement is embodied, then?
JC: Yes. The reason I started doing these
walks was because I was recording with
the tape recorder out in the cemetery. I
had a headset on and I was walking
around doing research, just recording the
names of the people on the headstones. I
don't know what it was for; it was a
totally senseless activity. Then I pressed
stop and instead of pressing go again, I hit
rewind by mistake, so I had to press play
to find out where I was. All of a sudden I
heard my voice describing what was in
front of me and my footsteps walking, so
I rewound it again and I went back to the
exact places where I was recording and
listened to the whole experience. I was
electrified. It was really, really incredible.
That's how I started doing walks. It was
totally serendipitous.
BC: Are you shooting here in Toronto
because it's convenient or is it actually
something you intended to do?
GBM: We're shooting here because we're
here. Is that right?
JC: Mostly. We came for another reason
but we had three days extra to blow and
we knew a singer and a friend runs a bar.
GBM: It seems like it's going to work out,
we have the bar scene we needed to get.
BC: Aren't you burning a barn as well?
JC: A house. But that came after we knew
we were coming here. We were thinking
of inserting an image of a house burning
because we're using this character who
builds big fires. We thought, will we do it
by making a model house? Then I
remembered there's a derelict house on
one of my father's farms. Maybe he'll
burn it down for me. People haven't lived
in it for 30 years. That's the way they do
it in the country if they have to get rid of
something. Next year it'll be a field.
BC: I realize the Venice piece is a
work-in-progress at this stage, but do you
have a sense of what it will be by the time it
opens at the vernissage?
GBM: We have a sense and while
everything changes, I don't think this one
will change that much. It's definitely
derived out of the
Muriel Lake
piece, but
we wanted to make it more immersive
and in a way more disorienting. It'll be a
theatre for 16 people. You'll sit in a
balcony situation overlooking a model of
a theatre.
JC: We're building a bigger version of
Muriel Lake
that you will actually sit in.
You go into this particular situation and
then experience what's on the screen as
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Robert Enright, "Pleasure Principals: The Art of Janet Cardiff and George Bures Miller,"
Border Crossings
(78) 2001.