inspired by  THOMAS BARTELS 
POCKELSTREET BRIDGE
POCKELSBRUCHE/ BRAUNCHWIEG, DE.
(animation by T. Bartels)

  
the audio version

"SCHWIMMER" 

"Over water over air over you over there
across the bridge
under them swimming".

"Splash"

(We turn, to cross the street walking downstream to the other side,
then that fall onto the bridge
we stop frame, we say, we think)
"you okay?"
the woman dives,
-the splash 
 a flat paddle slap, and a kayak's laugh
in the silent swimmers path,
on a river 
swimming beneath our overpass,

 "Whey hey and up she rises, 
Whey hey and up she rises
 settling like a swing..."
the pendulum of the bridge begins
as feet touch the crossing street which meets 
every road in Europe 
every

Muybridge-drawbridge- footbridge-swimbridge 

film beginning,
electron's beam being 
moved to cross between each arching frame
submerged

thinking: 
"how the hell?...

the loop above our heads 
each stop is endless grainy black and white
past some present/future
calculating animator's dream
engineered to play upon the silver screen 

Muybridge- drawbridge- footbridge -swimbridge 

In a film shot from treetop down
 above the black pond background 
the man and woman flow, you know, the way a river flows:
water swimming in air... 
upstream to where,

 der beamer licht 's revolving like
a model of  the planet's
orbital flight
clock hands colliding at midnight
our spirits brightened 
by each other's passing 
on the bridge at which
a microcosm named Braunshweig and its universe exists, 

Muybridge- drawbridge- footbridge-swimbridge

This focal point between road and stream,
this parabolic mis en scene
of man and woman 
swimming in a camera's sight, 
above a bridge lit up at night, 
on a surface of reflected light 
shone by arms in shuttered flight, 

moonlight, 
like a clockwork counterweight
shimmers on the swimmers screen,
passing by the twinkling stars, 
which rise and fall
projected in the sky.

Muybridge- drawbridge- footbridge-swimbridge

drawn
like Lascaux's lamp lit caves, or video we rewind and play,
pictures move, like nudes in actions painted large, 
celluloid miniatures magnified by beams discharged 
through mirrored reflections of what we are:

(sometimes human, sometimes a human race, 
sometimes  a look of wonder on a child-like face) 

mechanisms turning like clockwork hands
casting the seraphic shadows of a woman and a man,
whose rise and fall we don't quite understand. 

dropping from the sky flowing into the sea, 
on a bridge we wait and see 
them meet. 
in the balanced fulcrum of a heartbeat
above our heads, below our feet... 
swimming.

Muybridge- drawbridge- footbridge-swimbridge

"Splash".


18/9/00.                             mac dunlop
part two, "the script pitch"
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