The film takes place in the realm of the mundane and the familiar. Death/Sleep at home. Death/Sleep which is not dramatic, but silent. A house, objects in a room, a dog – the cyclicality of day and night.
Morning. A woman’s face sleeping. As the film starts, the character opens her eyes to the sound of loud barking. An involuntary response of waking up or of sudden fright. But a strange reaction forces itself on the goings-on when we notice the barking stops. At first glance our eyes rest on the varied objects scattered in the room. Our eyes don’t focus on one spot and there is no sense of center but of a neutral composition. At second glance we notice a woman. She is sitting facing the window. She’s not moving. Her sitting body which is not lying down, the fact she is fully clothed, a full glass of water placed beside her, all indicate a casual scene. Nothing unique, nothing dramatic. The room is silent. The only sounds heard are the street sounds, entering indoors. Only after watching for a few moments we notice a slight movement – slow breathing moving the woman’s chest. Her breaths, the movements seen through the window, the dog’s frequent visits to the room, all happen in a natural rhythm which appears in contract to the rapid rhythm of light, pouring into the room. The change from day to night happens before our eyes, the rays of sun moving, changing color, uncover and cover. We start to realize we have been watching for longer than we had thought.
The CDA's archives are operating with the support of the Ostrovsky Family Fund and Artis
