NARRATOR:

This video you're watching is of a found Youtube clip of the revolving restaurant at the Bonaventure Hotel.

(While watching the embedded footage) It loops seamlessly, continuously; almost reminding me of a rotating security camera.

The camera shows us distant windows and we glimpse the diners' reflections in the glass. We are there but not there.

PAUSE.

Both the voyeur and the flâneur spring to mind, don't they? But, yes I agree, that isn't quite right, although the degree of separation is.

PAUSE.

(Slowly) if this is an island, I feel quite lost at sea.

THE VIEWER CONTINUES TO SCROLL DOWN THE WEBPAGE.












THE MAN WHO BROUGHT ME HERE. HE SAID HE WOULD BRING WATER. MORE WATER. THE MAN WHO BROUGHT ME HERE. HE SAID HE LIKED MY FACE, ASKED ME WHAT MY NAME WAS. THE MAN WHO BROUGHT ME HERE. HE SAID HE WOULD BRING WATER. MORE WATER. HE SAID HE LIKED ME, LIKED MY FACE. HE SAID HE WOULD COME BACK. HE WOULDN’T LEAVE UNTIL I TOLD HIM A JOKE. HE SAID: TELL ME A JOKE. SO I TOLD HIM MY PIRATE JOKE AND HE DIDN’T LAUGH. NO ONE EVER LAUGHS AT MY PIRATE JOKE. I MADE IT UP WHEN I WAS FIVE YEARS OLD AND NO ONE EVER LAUGHS BUT IT’S THE ONLY ONE I KNOW. HE DIDN’T LAUGH AND THEN HE POINTED AT THE LIGHTHOUSE. HE SAID: DON’T GO IN THAT LIGHTHOUSE. I ASKED HIM WHY AND HE TOLD ME MY PIRATE JOKE. I LAUGHED AND HE SAID HE LIKED MY LAUGH. HE SAID THAT AND THEN HE GOT BACK IN HIS BOAT. SAID HE WOULD BRING WATER. FOOD AND WATER, BUT I HAVE NOT SEEN HIM. IT’S THE ONLY JOKE I KNOW. IT’S NOT EVEN A JOKE IT’S MORE A STORY ABOUT THIS PIRATE. BUT I WON’T TELL IT. NO ONE EVER LAUGHS AT MY PIRATE JOKE. I WON’T TELL. I’LL KEEP IT TO MYSELF. THOSE LIGHTS ACROSS THE WATER. THAT’S THE MAINLAND. THE PEOPLE SLEEPING. THAT LIGHT ACROSS THE WATER. IS IT MOVING? THE MAN WHO BROUGHT ME HERE. IS HE COMING? THE MAN WHO BROUGHT ME HERE. I LIKED HIS FACE. I ASKED HIM WHAT HIS NAME WAS. I ASKED HIM WHAT HIS NAME WAS AND HE SAID HE WOULD COME BACK. I ASKED HIM WHAT HIS NAME WAS. HE SAID HE'D BRING ME WATER. STARS AND SATELLITES. THEY'RE COMING CLOSER. THAT LIGHT ACROSS THE WATER. IT’S COMING CLOSER. HE SAID HE’D BRING ME WATER. IT COULD BE HIM. THIS COULD BE IT. IT COULD BE THEM.




INT. HERE.

NARRATOR (off):

This roundabout scene you're watching was included in the installation at Kingsgate, but it wasn't included in the performance.

THE NARRATOR PAUSES TO LISTEN.

NARRATOR:

(Questioningly) The dialogue is quite mundane, it's normal, isn't it? Unscripted, but yet uncannily appropriate.

PAUSE.

Perhaps we could consider that the footage reveals the roundabout as a place of potential, rather than simply a device for channeling traffic.

(Thoughtfully) Quite like the structure of the internet.

PAUSE.

I have just begun to think about online blogging in relation to this footage: people who document their lives and then upload them to YouTube and Vine. Although this video does not play up to the camera.

In fact, you cannot see the artist or her sister at all in the footage. You watch as if you're observing through a dash cam. I am waiting for something to happen, like it so often does online, and it doesn't.

PAUSE.

(An aside) I just clicked on the YouTube link and liked the footage.

EXT. THE ROUNDABOUT.

A: Yeh they are quite annoying.

B: Are you filming?

A: Yeh, I want to film the roundabout, so that I remember about it.

B: Is it this one?

A: Yeh.

B: I feel self-conscious.

A: Don't suppose you feel like going all the way around it do you?

B: Okay.

B: I might get arrested.

A: No it's quite unlikely.

B: They're trying to open a cinema actually, there's a whole thing in the paper about it.

A: A cinema here?

B: Yeh.

A: Really?

B: There's a big like petition. But I was like, well, I don't think Cineplex comes because of a petition, does it?

A: Nah.

B: No.

B: I've just got a feeling it doesn't work like that.

A and B laugh together.























  • NARRATOR:

    (Listening) Both voices have been removed in a sense, haven't they? They are disembodied.

    The islander's voice loops; out of time and separated from the source. It is not happening now, or even, exclusively here.

    The computer is giving voice to Maia's commands; she is searching for private islands for sale. It is a simultaneous translation of her key-strokes.

    PAUSE.

    I remember reading in Steven Connor's book Dumbstruck that there were no disembodied voices, but there were voice-bodies.

    So, does that mean your computer acting as a surrogate for the voice that you hear now?

    PAUSE.     		COMPUTER:

    One system dialogue displayed. Voice over on safari Google window Google H A N S A E Island slash li-link – islands for sale – and – for – goes far beyond the Mediterranean sea we offer private islands in Scandinavia with a hole host of luxury with volca – vistor link – top ten – safari – for sale – selected. Finder desktop safari private private s n d space a i h n m – m - heading level 1 link image visited link. Buy your own island. Main dot c – More. Buy your own link flash start. buy your island - a - buy your own island twenty million one hundred and ten thousand two hundred and twenty five dash one v eight d eight flash start link application window window.     		ISLANDER:

    Welcome to my Island, in the Gulf of Salerno.

    GUESTURES TOWARDS THE ISLAND.

    Yes, It's all mine.

    CUT TO:

    EXT. THE ISLANDER IS WALKING TOWARDS THE CAMERA, HE IS ON A PATH HEADING TOWARDS HIS HOME.

    Come to the villa and tell you how I came by it.

    CUT TO:

    Welcome to my Island, in the Gulf of Salerno.

    GUESTURES TOWARDS THE ISLAND.

    Yes, It's all mine.

    CUT TO:

    EXT. THE ISLANDER IS WALKING TOWARDS THE CAMERA, HE IS ON A PATH HEADING TOWARDS HIS HOME.

    Come to the villa and tell you how I came by it.














I hear voices. It could be them. Hushed voices from the lighthouse. I hear them now but there is no one. I climbed the iron staircase, wall smooth under my fingers. These charcoal numbers. Ones and zeros. All the way up. Zeros and ones. Last four steps missing. And at the top I found the lens. Green glass. Quiet. Hard. Convex. Alien. And at its heart the unburned candle. Good enough to eat, the thought of bees, chewing honey from the wax. He told me not to. No way to light it. This was a darkhouse. Its darkness spreading out across the sea, across the waves. Cool and unsympathetic, the endless gaze. Hushed voices from the darkhouse. I hear them now but there is no one. Who held the matches? Who gave the signal? The unburned candle. Who was here before me? Whose voice is it I hear, who was the keeper of the house? Lone lighthouse. The charcoal numbers. This is a darkhouse, its darkness spreading out across the waves, the speed of darkness. I am its keeper. The unlit matches inside our kitchen drawer. Dark ocean and a continent between us. Our kitchen in our house inside the forest. Woodland stream, floating fish beneath the glass floor, pine trees framed in windows so vast as to be invisible. Discreet technology. I left you sleeping. No sign. Dark ocean and a continent between us. Stars and satellites.














  • ⚓⚓⚓
    NARRATOR:

    I've started to think about ownership: the ownership of the Island, the ownership of the Internet.

    As I scroll down the page, the work reminds me of an online search. There are multiple voices attempting to grab my attention, like signposts on a round-a-bout, and I struggle to focus.

    I opened up a new tab.

    I search for "buy island". I find: http://www.privateislandsonline.com

    There are a lot of islands for sale.

    DISCLIAMER:

    Private Islands Online makes no warranty or representation, expressed or implied, as to the accuracy of information contained in advertisements.

    Private Islands Online cannot guarantee that the site will be accessible 100% of the time. Downtime due to maintenance, updating, problems with the host server or other reasons may occur, but every reasonable effort will be made to ensure that these situations are kept to a minimum.

    Offsite links are provided by paying advertisers or for information purposes. By following any offsite links contained on the domain of Private Islands Online, each person assumes responsibility for any contracts entered into, purchases made, and any situation or event that may arise.

    FADE OUT