Fractions
Sunday, January 28th, 2007
Walking along the harbour-front in yesterday’s winterish twilight, which at this time of the year in Copenhagen means afternoon, Inge and I discussed how the gradual change of the day into night manifested itself – clouds getting darker, profiles of the trees on the old fortifications getting sharper against the remaining light on the western sky, lampposts on the quay being lit, the illuminated Opera marking more of a statement on the other basin as it had done half an hour ago…
It was in this scenery that we suddenly heard: “We do not have carrots and butter” – a fraction of a conversation between by-passers, which for us was totally out of context and we could not help smiling about this absurdity.
This little incident triggered an interesting discussion on fractions of conversations. In the public space we often involuntarily overhear such bits and pieces of conversations: in the shopping queue, in airports, in the station etc. and in the course of a day we may overhear hundreds of them. Such fractions can be neutral like the carrots and butter above, but be very emotional when related to a goodbye in an airport for example.
Fractions are usually registered and discarded within the same 2-3 seconds, but the question remained as to what makes us remember a particular fraction? We agreed that the degree of emotion did not really matter – it was rather the degree of being out of context relative to the situation within which we overheard them, that would cause us to notice and perhaps remember them.
Like people passing by in a café can cause one to wonder where they came from and where they are going – as they become actors in a book or drama we are just about to write – so can fractions of conversations create avenues for the fantasy. Avenues to think the conversation further.
Interesting!
We then started to imagine what a collection of fractions could lead to and started to play with the fractions we heard on the remainder of the way to the hotel. Imagine what “We do not have carrots and butter” could lead to when combined with “In 20 seconds” and “Music and notes” etc.
Can fractions of conversations collectively form a meaning like fractions of fabrics can form a patchwork?
What if this is not the case – what if the arbitrarily collected fractions of conversations could not form a closure – would we not be able to tap into this source of inspiration?
We think we would, and maybe the lack of automatically provided closure of a motif would turn out to our advantage by leaving unfinished and undefined loose ends for the viewer to think it further – to build an individual closure for him or herself.
Interesting thought!



