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  1. WORLD WATCHER is an audiovisual project by Andris Indāns and Laura Prikule. Developed at Rucka Art Residency in Cēsis it uses a range of sensory forms of expression. Drawn to the overlapping zone between the real and the imaginary the piece dives into a number of remote worlds unseen by the naked eye, exploring them by means of spoken text, image, sound and technology. Mixing scientific research methods, travel notes and personal experience of delving in the subconscious alike, ‘World Watcher’ offers a perceptual journey. Camel Sultan, the main protagonist of the piece, gazing from a spot near the ceiling, is always present, yet never entirely involved in the twists and turns of the non-linear story.


  2. Worldscapes 

    by Laura Prikule

    World of thoughts. It is closer than some villages in the countryside. I am watching the dreams. Distances in the mind space. Miles and miles of mind space. Oceans of thought. I watch the waves splash over the idea-islands. The ideas vanish under those waves. Long waves and short waves erase the idea waves. They wash them away and destroy them. They crash in the banks of nothingness. Forgetful, mindless non-awareness. Zero-moment. Zig-zag. Jig-saw puzzle. Black and white elements and the Japanese flag. The vastness of the empty space. 

    I approach the world of the real. Ready for the truth. Not necessarily. Sometimes collectively we explore the borders of reality to find that what seemed to be is not valid. Knots of perception, goals and perfection. Occasional truths and trolls. Truth and reality is less than it is supposed to be. Captives of facts wander there to get a better view of what could be true or real but usually it is not. 

    World of silence. Sometimes I take a walk in the park. I take a walk along the gaps between words I once marked on a map. Signs and signals between colons dots and quotation marks. Distances bigger than galaxies. Estranged. Truths sometimes are hidden in long paragraphs, beyond the cities of artificial mud. Megalithic constructions are destroyed by mute musicians. Scientific discoveries of vacant pages. 

    Sometimes I wander in the world of memories. Basic recollections of seconds, minutes, decades. I pause and stop at vanishing points of dreams to read summaries of forgotten ideas and ideals never to be reached. Photographic imprints on the mind structure creating chaotic 

    emotional experiences. Fast backward through the memories of recent years, back to the origins of life patterns and loops. I remember some faces, a few names. Some colors, textures, childhood games. Unique sensations. Everyday non-eventfulness. I dive deep through time. I collect fragments of the past present and future and parallel possibilities of events. I see some ruins, some rivals, some ricochets. There is a path for pedestrians only. The thermal camera shows some footprints. On-line statistics of past visits. A screen with repeated images and repeated situations. Solutions, solvents and solar rays. The dynamic range of vacant thoughts. I bring in the instruments to get to the the sum of some-thing. There is no beginning, no end in the sea of information. Just endless waves of data. I float and I remember. 

    I find myself in the world of greenhouses. Somewhere in the south. Somewhere in Europe. Wilderness is kept out by plastic walls and metal ribs. Safe experiments with plastic realities. Plant production. Plans for plantations. The slaves are gone but there are many workers there. Industrial touch and systematic consumption. Pagan rituals of land harvesting are strictly forbidden by law, yet some people still manage. Slight manipulations at a grand scale. Race for 

    the ripe (right) tomato. Traces of poison in le -overs of everyday meals. 5% real 10% natural. Sights of scenic beauty amidst the fields of cubical water melons and orange grapes. Plastic oceans and plastic islands in those oceans and some old orchards in between, rarely to be seen. 

    i am here in the world of tomorrow. Theories thrown away, rotten apple style. the future is not yet, but almost. A figure on the striped field making choices about where to go next as if he was an ant on a highway. Is there a choice? Deep fascination with progress. The week a er the one before. The artificial sun is shining over there for 48 hours in a row. it still glows. Improbability is a sign of the past, wade on! wade on! meet the sun! 

    I am in the shadows. In the world of darkness. There are no shapes. Nothing to be seen. Not a beam of light. Nothing is clear here. I can hear the sound of the train in the distance. The wild deer some elephants behind the falling fence. Giant trees. Science and fiction. The hyenas. No framing, no farming just a futuristic jungle. And there are some camels here, too. 

    I am in the world of the pond. I witness the movement of tiny molecular structures through space. Under the microscope thousands of tiny creatures are revealed. Why are they moving? Where are they going? Are they out of control? What do those chaotic patterns mean? is there anything to know? Knowledge is beyond the borders of our pond. Ichthyoplankton, phytoplankton, zooplankton. Plankton is a wanderer, an errant dri er floating along the streams of the real. the eco-system of the pond is very self-sufficient and yes life is quite comfortable here. 

    i am falling down to the very bottom of the basin to the origins to the world of clay. everything from clay. bricks there are loads of bricks here i arrange them in structures, patterns and bridges. i make houses and walls and take them down again. i am in a constant state of reconstruction. the bricks are heavy they weigh a ton they could be a shelter in windy situations. red bricks white bricks brown bricks. Egyptian bricks, Indian bricks, South American bricks. All types of bricks. Concrete bricks from the soviet past are not there to last. From bricks to shambles to dust and the other way round again. Some water is added. Muddy water to make it through with rubber boots right from the nearest Maxima or any other major supermarket chain. 

    I am kind of flying. I am not quite sure. Into the world of illusions. Some would say that the world is an illusion. There are big illusions, small and medium scale illusions. Some are quite close to what we call reality, may be too close, others hardly resemble it. It is so easy to 

    accept the illusions, the almost actual. Take it or dream it. I know I know I know. No errors in an error. just terror engineering. 

    I really want some clarity, I find myself in the world of geometry. Some lines and nice curves. Crystalline spheres and diagonal division of a blank sheet of paper. I mind the borders. A journey from point A to B avoiding C is so possible. I can hitch-hike or take a bike. Dot dot dot. Occasional regularity. Right or wrong. Answers not valid. Easy and clear. Cones. Shapes. I color the stripes and spaces between and the shades cast by cubes and dodecahedrons. Zig- zags of Z. Hype-erbolic hypnosis. I am in a circle in the center and on the line. A rectangle a triangle and a point in the middle of the ocean. 

    World between worlds. The inter-space and entrance point. Hallway and airport lobby. Tunnel of change. At an accelerated pace trains flash by. I see the lights until they are lost again in the vast dark vacant underground arteries.