Loes Vanneste, Between places

master audiovisuele kunsten
animatiefilm
Mentoren / Mentors:
Michel Druart
Carl Van Isacker
Edwin Carels
Links:
instagram
website
watch me watch myself (film, is deel van installatie) wachtwoord: Loesvanneste3
watch me watch myself (installatie filmpje) wachtwoord: Loesvanneste3i
SPORA, wachtwoord: LoesVanneste22
Mr. P. Lastiek wachtwoord: LoesVanneste1

Ergens in de diepte van de ruimte vliegen de gedachten en herinneringen van wat ooit was, rond. Daar is het paleis der stof, dat bewoond wordt door een transparant beest/wezen dat alle deeltjes stof herschikt, verschuift en verorbert. “Waar ben ik?”  Klinkt er in de open ruimte. Het is de vrouw die door haar droom geleidt is tot het paleis der stof. Haar fysieke lichaam ligt horizontaal op het bed, maar haar stem, haar geest, bevindt zicht in het paleis. Het beest neemt haar mee door de ruimtes van het paleis en beantwoord al haar vragen. Het vertelt haar over de waarde van stof en transitie en laat haar ‘Door het glas, donker’ of door het stof, donker’ (op een imperfecte of obscure manier) naar de wereld kijken. Uiteindelijk begrijpt ze het beest en is ze zelf in transitie waarna haar kijk op en haar vorm in de wereld niet meer dezelfde zijn. Als laatste is er het bed van de vrouw te zien dat in een gefragmenteerde wereld staat die gelijkenissen vertoont met de werkelijkheid. Er zijn herkenbare dingen, maar toch klopt er iets niet, want waar eerst de vrouw lag ligt nu een hoop ademende stof. 

“We always used to call it dirt, blind to this

whole universe. Only now do we realize how privileged dust mites actually are. They live in

palaces of amazing beauty and it has never once crossed their minds to vanish into a cloud of

dust.”

Josef Haslinger & Klaus Pichler

Somewhere in the depths of space, thoughts and memories of what once was are flying around. There is the palace of dust, inhabited by a transparent beast/being that rearranges, shifts and consumes all particles of dust. “Where am I?” Sounds in the open space. It is the woman who has been led by her dream to the palace of dust. Her physical body lies horizontally on the bed, but her voice, her mind, is sight inside the palace. The beast takes her through the spaces of the palace and answers all her questions. It tells her about the value of dust and transition and makes her look ‘Through the glass, dark’ or through the dust, dark’ (in an imperfect or obscure way) at the world. In the end, she understands the beast and is herself in transition after which her view and form in the world are no longer the same. Lastly, there is the woman’s bed on display, which stands in a fragmented world that bears resemblance to reality. There are recognisable things, yet something is not right, because where the woman used to lie is now a pile of breathing dust.

“We always used to call it dirt, blind to this

whole universe. Only now do we realize how privileged dust mites actually are. They live in

palaces of amazing beauty and it has never once crossed their minds to vanish into a cloud of

dust.”

Josef Haslinger & Klaus Pichler

Sleeping in dust
Yesterday evening  I found a piece of dust in my bed. after this I slept for days. A never-ending sleep, a long-life dream I won’t wake up from. 
In my dream I was drifting through a wondrous space with bits and pieces I didn’t recognize, though I felt It was not the first time I was there. In the far distance I saw an enormous palace. My feet got me by the door, I opened it and beheld a magnificent venue full of fragments of life. Bits of skin, hair, fabric, nails, candy, gold and silver. When wandering trough this place I stumbled upon a mysterious beast, translucent in nature. All I could think about was the piece of dust I found before fell asleep and I didn’t felt treathened to ask this jelly like creature some questions about it. 
Is dust so different from the world it lives in? Are we not equally fragmented? Have we lost our “touch” with nature , lost in a fragmented world that merges everything and nothing into a gray mass until it becomes ironic? Is dust not a pure and interpretive allegory for being in this world? If we stop ignoring what lives between us and the rest of things, that wat is between the chinks and crevices, something that fills the gaps with an unseen yet intrusive spirit, will we see what we are really made of? Will we find our connection back with the earth we life in? 
The beast answered: “Some people look trough the dust at the world and find it disgusting, a thing to get rid of. I see it as true beauty, a metaphor for life, not only on this earth, but everywhere. These bits and pieces come together on a ‘misplaced’ space on a ‘mis timed’ time and form a matter, anti-matter,  that reforms all laws. I’s a place where time is felt and space is heard.”
I asked: “How can you be aware of all this? Do you know what’s out there, there where I sleep in my bed? Do you ever think you’ll vanish into a cloud of dust?”
The creature didn’t answer me and ate and ate. It was as if it never saw me, never heard me and never talked to me.  
When I woke up the next morning I could only hear my breathing. I couldn’t see clearly because I had powder in my eyes. I guess u never dream without consequences