Story Gallery
Exploration of a general theme or question in three individual parts all looking in the same direction but standing on their own with soundscapes, visual quilting, and full narration
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Shorter, stand alone pieces with soundscapes, visual quilting, and whittled words without narration
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While rummaging old film archives for material, we frequently find these little clips or moments that are so illustrative and informative on their own that we just round some edges and add a little context… we call these Celluloid Cyphers
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False Childhood Memories is collaborative storytelling in a digital space by real people making art from our hopes, memories, and fears… not all truth is historic
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This Digital Haiku is a tumble of image & word informed by the linear flow of Allen Ginsberg’s “American Sentences”, which are informed, in their turn, by the earlier form of Haiku used to capture the flavors of a moment
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Poems that take advantage of the digital space to use timing as punctuation music as tonal flavoring, and video collage as canvas
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Using one of the antique typewriters from the Quilted Rummage Fleet, Robb first typed these poems then carved them before filming them being still while surrounded by motion and set them to music words
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Short pieces built around a one-shot recording… like improve caught in amber.
Press “record”, start talking and stitch a thing worth saying together while falling towards an ending of some kind… then set it to music and video collage and hope it lands.
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These are shorts of world building informed as much by old time radio, Joe Frank, MTV, Goosebumps, and the X-Files as Italo Calvino, Jorge Borges, or Richard Brautigan
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Some of our friends, old and new,
helped build a new collaborative
story by adding a line or two at
a time to our scroll while only
being able to read the line
or two ahead of them!
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Real people
telling stories,
sharing thoughts,
or grinding axes.
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As one of the children born into the last half century of the last millennium, I was born into analog life only to find myself destined to dying a digital death…
My generational cohort is already heir to more than a lifetime’s worth of the best and worst, the trifling and middling, the full, sloppy living off of the western humanity that came before us, all accidentally and intentionally suspended in the amber of our media in fact, if you stopped everything else and dedicated every waking hour for the rest of your life to watching films, television shows, home movies, and industrial training reels, a lifetime listening to radio dramas, found tapes, published music and news broadcasts dated ONLY from the day BEFORE you were born and earlier…
well, there’s already more material than you could get through in your lifetime- we are awash in the functionally infinite records of ourselves becoming ourselves… and every day there’s only more created and ever greater, faster access to that more that’s been created… and it seems we can no more drown in it than a fish can drown in ocean, but we can surely get lost in it the same way rain disappears into a river
but it’s not just the death of knobs and levers, or even the way it’s placed the Library of Alexandria in every one of our pockets while selling our eyes to the highest bidder… no, it’s even stickier than that…
and in all of this, I’ve always been drawn to the way of rummaging, of wandering through these piles, troves, and catches of shadowed-echoes, our inheritance from worlds we’ll never actually know, full of the faces… hands… extinct scenery… defunct machinery… the ALMOST actual voices of the dead… shadow theater of unheralded lives and scripted lies… the stories that came before us and, inevitably, that inform, color, and flavor the stories we tell ourselves about ourselves… whether we realize it or not…
-RT