• Wenn man gut durch geöffnete Türen kommen will, muß man die Tatsache achten, daß sie einen festen Rahmen haben […]

    To pass freely through open doors, it is necessary to respect the fact that they have solid frames […]

    Robert Musil: Der Mann ohne Eigenschaften

    The frame is a field. In other words, it is diametrically opposite to what is off-camera. Framing a shot is a process of selection. We have a point of view, we cut things out, we choose what not to show, we kill stuff, we trim things away, enclosing an image, showing one thing but not the rest. Personally, I love the frame: I think of it as the essence of the elegance of an image. In the film Contact, I say that the frame is pain and light is happiness. It’s true that there is something very painful in a frame. When I see Slavic films, Soviet films, films from Eastern Europe, it strikes me that they contain a kind of ode to pain. Soviet filmmakers frame well: they love framing. The East generates a painful frame, a point of view that involves us in the shot.

    Raymond Depardon. Quote from Errance, Éditions the Seuil, Paris 2000, p. 82

    Following Fürst, doors in Kafka do not primarily focus on the dichotomy of here and there, or on the status of perspective per se, but rather on the question whether there is anything to access behind the door at all. They are secret doors, simultaneously concealed and illuminated. It is because of this illumination that the subject misses them, even when they are open. In fact, their purpose is to allow only the illumination to shine forth from the spaceless-space they conceal. Here, the ambiguous nature of the German word Schein comes into play. Schein cannot only be translated as “glow,” but also as “semblance”. These doors pretend to be doors and are not a means of access anymore, but instead signify a space behind the door when in fact there is nothing to access. They achieve this fallacy by framing an image and at the same time signaling possible access into the image. Doors thus become mere illusions […]

    By taking a closer look on Kafka’s particular use of doors it becomes apparent that they have indeed a great significance. In his short prose “Grosser Lärm” Kafka mentions the words several times in relation to the “rooms” they grant access to. In  “Grosser Lärm” the opening and entering of doors produces noise. The intrusion of the noise of the modern world happens via doors and not windows. Doors are “broken through” by family members who intrude the space of the narrator from within the structure of his home, and the boundaries between public and private space collapse. There is no place of refuge left for the narrator, who in turn considers opening his door a little bit in order to slither into the room next door like a snake. […]

    From: Kai-Uwe Werbeck: The Interface as Door: On the Problem of Access to the Image in Kafka’s Das Schloß and Interactive Media


    The door is as such one of the most profound, symbolic achievements of man.

    Françis Smets: A van abyssaal

    To young children, of course, nature is full of doors – is nothing but doors, really – and they swing open at every step. A hollow in a tree is the gateway to a castle. An ant hole in dry soil leads to the other side of the world. A stick-den is a palace. A puddle is the portal to an undersea realm. To a three- or four-year-old, ‘landscape’ is not backdrop or wallpaper, it is a medium, teeming with opportunity and volatile in its textures. […] What we bloodlessly call ‘place’ is to young children a wild compound of dream, spell and substance: place is somewhere they are always in, never on.

    Robert Macfarlane: Landmarks

  • (Duchamp: Étant donnés: 1° la chute d'eau, 2° le gaz d'éclairage . . . (Given: 1. The Waterfall, 2. The Illuminating Gas . . . ))



     image (photocopy): Collier Schorr
     image (photocopy): Dana Lixenberg