Full HD video | 16:9 | 12 min. | Black and white | Sound
The narration in Island has neither a clear beginning nor a definite ending. The camera observes a young man through moments of his daily life in Japan and portrays his interactions with a black square: he carries it through the city’s streets, clutching it to his body; back in his apartment, he feels it with his fingers; or sits face to face with it, gazing into its void. The nature of his relationship with the minimalist object remains in abeyance, alternating between intimate physical contact and distanced reflection. The film never reaches a final determination or conclusive understanding of what this form is in itself or what it stands for. It thus also eludes our efforts to read it, remaining a paradigmatic projection screen for our attempts to attribute meaning, which invariably come to “nothing.” Once we allow ourselves to suspend the mechanisms of interpretation, the film discloses a quiet space of presence in time.