All Hallows on Sea

EDITH LOOPS is a reflection upon all things Edith Swan Neck and her role as the great visionary and Pagan Queen to the muddled British Isles in the wake of The Battle of Hastings 950 years ago.

In 1972 a family are on their way for a holiday in Essex. The parents argue and the son swears, making obscene gestures. So the father throws him out, drives on and crashes the car. The grandmother flags down a car with three men in it. Too late she recognises one as the man who shot a neighbour...

FORGOTTEN THE QUEEN is a short animated film that digs into themes inspired by the life of Edith Swan Neck. Eden’s drawings and collages are brought to life by Glenn Whiting and tossed into the time-line like flotsam from a demented passion. Meantime Edith’s eyes fix on the man-shadows overhead, resplendent in their didactic belief systems and stupid hats, which seem to have blighted women since the beginning of time. King Harold would not have approved because despite the fact that time itself can touch you like a feather, stupid men keep firing their bloody arrows.

A collection of films from an eclectic array of contributors commissioned to raise funds for the Bristol independent cinema The Cube.

As families enjoy the May Day sun at a funfair in a south-east London park, overlooked by the skyscrapers of the financial district, Martin Donegan reads philosophical quotes from Mao Tse Tung on the future of society.

These pinhole photographs are taken by Anonymous Bosch and document a 108 mile walk in 5 days from Waltham Abbey to Leonards-on- Sea.

In a hinterland within the 'elsewhere', a lone character meanders in search of meaning and understanding. Hither and dither doth he wander reflecting upon all things that came before and all things hereafter. The work is a companion piece to Kötting's latest feature film LEK AND THE DOGS and was shot in the Atacama desert in Chile.

A companion piece to the film IT’S ALL IN THE MIND commissioned through Channel 4 for their RANDOM ACTS strand. This time however we are not land-locked, we are all-at-sea. Eden Kötting’s drawings and collages are aquatically themed featuring fish, boats and stars. The work is a moving image celebration of the collages that Eden has been making with her father Andrew for the last five years.

'I’m not moaning, you don’t hear me moaning!' These are the words spoken by Gladys Morris, the artist’s dead grandmother, that form, along with other snippets of her conversation, the soundscape for moving image artist Andrew Kötting’s latest work 'The Woman of Kent', a short film that acts as an intervention in the cinema space at Kino Digital in Hawkhurst, Kent. The Woman of Kent interrupts the cinematic experience like an explosion. The words of Gladys are laid over tiny sections of archive moving image showing a Kent that no longer exists, edited together at high speed and interspersed with contemporary pinhole stills of the cinema as it is today. The film will be shown exclusively at the Kino, before regular screenings. The audience may notice the accompanying poster designed by Kötting in the foyer, advertising it as ‘remarkably confusing’ and ‘a forgettable classic’, but other than this will receive no indication of what they are about to witness.

A site specific performance piece for camera, filmed on location at Beachy Head, a metaphor for our collective headlong rush over the edge when it comes to our dealings with the environment. But rather than a decisive leap off the cliff, the piece has a much slower, more erosive pace with Paris and Hill gradually sinking in a deep fissure near the cliff edge. Seemingly oblivious, they chat bravely on mixing the banal with specific personal fixations on environment. Time-lapse cinematography marks time passing, clouds and shadows moving as the women slowly descend into the earth. They are very positive, very upbeat, but their sinking is inevitable. They keep talking until they are no longer visible; the last sentence breathed out through a crack in the earth and carried off in the wind. Then they are gone without a trace, and the viewer is confronted with the precipice, which in their absence becomes the foreground rather than the background.