It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen.
“These mean grey boxes were actually erasing truth, disqualifying natural colour. And, worse than that, their interference, their unceasing attention, disturbed the time-stream, the dance of photons. Their alien
consciousness was a mortuary dream, the dream of someone left in a coma after a road accident. A dream with no rage, no anxiety, no phallic dew. A dream without symbols or archetypes. Instead of coding these images to heal, the Watchers in their Bishopgate precinct had to invent a subversive psyche to fit the crimes that trouble urban sleep. Surveillance abuses the past while fragmenting the present. The subject is split, divided from itself (Sinclair 1998: 105).”
I'm interested in mapping my city's CCTV to find out exactly how much we have and whether there is any space left at all that is not been filmed. Its a bizzare thing to think how many days pass when we are not committed to film, when our journeys are not played out or forgotten.
Found a great company called the Surveillance Camera Players who according to their brief:
I just love the idea of someone taking advantage of the level of exposure that we are granted by civic banalisation. Will have to examine this group further.
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