13 Deleted Scenes, From a Film Existing Only in the Mind of the Director

1. A panning shot of the room glimpsed briefly in the final scene. Stuttering fluorescent tubes, cracked walls, smashed bottles, a camcorder still recording.

2. Man A greets Man B with a slow wave. Hot LA traffic thunders between them, breaks the gesture into morse code.

3. Alessandra Lucenti’s character sitting alone on the terrace of the ruined hotel, laughing.

4. The young couple strew their clothes over sand and run into the inky sea.

5. In the aftermath of the explosion, smoke cocoons a man wearing an eye patch and leaning on a walking stick.

6. The Director locks his hotel room door and turns back to the woman lying naked on his bed. A fly walks around the rim of a tumbler of whiskey.

7. A montage, in which we see all six main characters asleep.

8. A moonlit night. Man B walks by the towpath, hands in his pockets, head lowered, whistling the tune heard by Man A on the staircase.

9. The man with the eye patch is disturbed by an unusual cloud formation.

10. Leaving the theatre, James Knight and the Director argue over the casting of Alessandra Lucenti as the blind poet.

11. The girl on the reception desk picks up her scissors, cuts the silk ribbon and opens the white box. Inside is a maggot.

12. A repeat of scene one, with Man B taking the place of Man A.

13. A close-up of a wet black disc, radiating blue. The camera pulls back, to reveal the Director’s eye.

Fin

This piece is dedicated to Kneel Downe, author of Virulent Blurb: Fractures. Visit his website here.

All of the texts on this site are the copyright of James Knight. All rights reserved.

13 Clouds Reflected in a Lake, at Sunset

1
A nacreous mannequin, obscenely supine, in disjointed abandon.

2
A blown kiss, powdery, fatal.

3
A cocoon, hanging from the sky’s striations.

4
A memory of an account of a troubling dream.

5
Faces made of crumpled tissues, soggy loo roll, bandages, chalk.

6
A foetus, revolving in the womb’s red night.

7
Fossils of impossible creatures: chimeras, basilisks, a hunchback with tortured wings.

8
An eye, blind with cataracts.

9
Something someone once said to you, jokingly, casually, that you’ve never forgotten.

10
An octopus wearing a coral crown.

11
A smashed swan.

12
Fleets of phantom ships, evaporating into history.

13
13. Your mind, your sleeping mind, wondering, wandering, unravelling, surrendering.

———-
All texts on this site are the copyright of James Knight. All rights reserved.

13 Pieces of a Broken Mirror

1
A tight, tired smile. Downturned eyes. A hand brushing a cheek.

2
A woman who looks like you, who might once have been you, holding a blue rose.

3
The ghost of a candle flame, guttering in the gloom.

4
A table, smooth, possibly metallic. On the edge: something pink or yellow, alive. Looking more closely: a maggot.

5
The eyes of someone who has seen little, imagined too much.

6
Screens shedding light on spectral faces, machines ministering in corridors, a grey lump ticking and snapping in a sneering skull.

7
Nothing, just a silvered surface, indifferent as ice. Nothing, still nothing.

8
Her laughing mouth, lips curling with mirth and mild cruelty. In the background: a door opening onto darkness.

9
A roomful of collapsed cocoons. Something smudges the light, panics in little flutters.

10
A tensed hand with nails like claws.

11
A cheek, a shoulder, impossibly smooth. Barely moving, or perhaps not at all. A curtain moving in the breeze from the open window.

12
A shoal of fish with serrated mouths and luciferous eyes, gulping thick black water, spiralling, turning, dissolving.

13
An open book, a blank page. A face, probably your face, stooping to see.

All of the texts on this site are the copyright of James Knight. All rights reserved.

New artwork: The Body of Work

Over the summer I bought a book about the works of Czech surrealist Jindřich Heisler, which included his startling, enigmatic photobook, From the Strongholds of Sleep, in which poetic texts were arranged in three dimensions with other objects and then photographed. Each page of Strongholds incorporates text as a part of the visual composition, rather than as an accompaniment to it, with astonishing results.

The pictures that follow, all created in the past few weeks, were influenced by Heisler’s example, though they bear little resemblance to the pages of Strongholds. I like the three-dimensionality of Heisler’s texts and wanted to create a similar effect, so photographed pages from two of my books (The Death of the Bird King and The Small Hours) and then created images incorporating them, using Photoshop Touch. I like the way the words curve and arch across the pictures. I included eyes in all of the pictures, perhaps as a reference to the act of reading or looking, but more likely because I’m fascinated by eyes and enjoy their accusatory, threatening or dreamlike presence.

These pictures are all of a kind. I have given them the collective title The Body of Work.

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