Instagramストーリービューア

I’ve been dusting off some past projects and giving them a bit of life again. This is one that I originally shot for the previous project of @popradiomusic
It was just the two of us. No crew. Just a bunch of ideas I had scribbled on a pile of a4 office paper, a couple of cheap lights and the keys to a factory. We pulled an all nighter, playing with setups, moving the lights and factory equipment around. It was a push covering it all myself and rattling off a bunch of still shots while we were at it. Bit of an industrial rave sesh without the drugs and alcohol.

@kodak_shootfilm #kodak #kodakshootfilm #filmsnotdead

Tarlabaşı

Tarlabaşı

Tarlabaşı

Tarlabaşı

Tarlabaşı

Tarlabaşı

Tarlabaşı

Video for ‘In Life’ OUT NOW 🌅
One of my favourite songs I’ve made
Thanks to these guys for working so hard and late on it 🙏

Director/Editor - Sam Eastcott
DOP - Oliver Hay
Runners - Liam Young/Joseph Landro

Video for ‘In Life’ OUT NOW 🌅
One of my favourite songs I’ve made
Thanks to these guys for working so hard and late on it 🙏

Director/Editor - Sam Eastcott
DOP - Oliver Hay
Runners - Liam Young/Joseph Landro

Portraits of K man at home and some words that kinda describe what I feel when I read his poetry.

I take a moment to rest on a friend’s couch in their high rise apartment while they freshen up in another room. The lounge room’s floor to ceiling windows open out onto the city, the busy motorway down below. traffic sounds growing louder and multiplying, screeching breaks, the downshift of a semi trailer, a souped up road bike echos through an underpass, sirens bleed out and bounce off city walls, rev, beep, screech, metallic engine parts spinning a thousand times per second, fuel exploding pushing everybody forward, forward, forward. A tiny lamp on a stone side table spreads a soft warm light in a corner of the room leaving the rest in shadow. I just lie there watching the long white curtains sway and flap in a warm summer breeze thats blowing in between the skyscrapers from the hills beyond. The wind wraps itself around the sounds of the traffic, slowing it, smothering it out until the sound of the city is like a distant memory, a foggy thought. My ears ring.

*writing continued in slides*

Portraits of K man at home and some words that kinda describe what I feel when I read his poetry.

I take a moment to rest on a friend’s couch in their high rise apartment while they freshen up in another room. The lounge room’s floor to ceiling windows open out onto the city, the busy motorway down below. traffic sounds growing louder and multiplying, screeching breaks, the downshift of a semi trailer, a souped up road bike echos through an underpass, sirens bleed out and bounce off city walls, rev, beep, screech, metallic engine parts spinning a thousand times per second, fuel exploding pushing everybody forward, forward, forward. A tiny lamp on a stone side table spreads a soft warm light in a corner of the room leaving the rest in shadow. I just lie there watching the long white curtains sway and flap in a warm summer breeze thats blowing in between the skyscrapers from the hills beyond. The wind wraps itself around the sounds of the traffic, slowing it, smothering it out until the sound of the city is like a distant memory, a foggy thought. My ears ring.

*writing continued in slides*

Portraits of K man at home and some words that kinda describe what I feel when I read his poetry.

I take a moment to rest on a friend’s couch in their high rise apartment while they freshen up in another room. The lounge room’s floor to ceiling windows open out onto the city, the busy motorway down below. traffic sounds growing louder and multiplying, screeching breaks, the downshift of a semi trailer, a souped up road bike echos through an underpass, sirens bleed out and bounce off city walls, rev, beep, screech, metallic engine parts spinning a thousand times per second, fuel exploding pushing everybody forward, forward, forward. A tiny lamp on a stone side table spreads a soft warm light in a corner of the room leaving the rest in shadow. I just lie there watching the long white curtains sway and flap in a warm summer breeze thats blowing in between the skyscrapers from the hills beyond. The wind wraps itself around the sounds of the traffic, slowing it, smothering it out until the sound of the city is like a distant memory, a foggy thought. My ears ring.

*writing continued in slides*

Portraits of K man at home and some words that kinda describe what I feel when I read his poetry.

I take a moment to rest on a friend’s couch in their high rise apartment while they freshen up in another room. The lounge room’s floor to ceiling windows open out onto the city, the busy motorway down below. traffic sounds growing louder and multiplying, screeching breaks, the downshift of a semi trailer, a souped up road bike echos through an underpass, sirens bleed out and bounce off city walls, rev, beep, screech, metallic engine parts spinning a thousand times per second, fuel exploding pushing everybody forward, forward, forward. A tiny lamp on a stone side table spreads a soft warm light in a corner of the room leaving the rest in shadow. I just lie there watching the long white curtains sway and flap in a warm summer breeze thats blowing in between the skyscrapers from the hills beyond. The wind wraps itself around the sounds of the traffic, slowing it, smothering it out until the sound of the city is like a distant memory, a foggy thought. My ears ring.

*writing continued in slides*

Portraits of K man at home and some words that kinda describe what I feel when I read his poetry.

I take a moment to rest on a friend’s couch in their high rise apartment while they freshen up in another room. The lounge room’s floor to ceiling windows open out onto the city, the busy motorway down below. traffic sounds growing louder and multiplying, screeching breaks, the downshift of a semi trailer, a souped up road bike echos through an underpass, sirens bleed out and bounce off city walls, rev, beep, screech, metallic engine parts spinning a thousand times per second, fuel exploding pushing everybody forward, forward, forward. A tiny lamp on a stone side table spreads a soft warm light in a corner of the room leaving the rest in shadow. I just lie there watching the long white curtains sway and flap in a warm summer breeze thats blowing in between the skyscrapers from the hills beyond. The wind wraps itself around the sounds of the traffic, slowing it, smothering it out until the sound of the city is like a distant memory, a foggy thought. My ears ring.

*writing continued in slides*

Portraits of K man at home and some words that kinda describe what I feel when I read his poetry.

I take a moment to rest on a friend’s couch in their high rise apartment while they freshen up in another room. The lounge room’s floor to ceiling windows open out onto the city, the busy motorway down below. traffic sounds growing louder and multiplying, screeching breaks, the downshift of a semi trailer, a souped up road bike echos through an underpass, sirens bleed out and bounce off city walls, rev, beep, screech, metallic engine parts spinning a thousand times per second, fuel exploding pushing everybody forward, forward, forward. A tiny lamp on a stone side table spreads a soft warm light in a corner of the room leaving the rest in shadow. I just lie there watching the long white curtains sway and flap in a warm summer breeze thats blowing in between the skyscrapers from the hills beyond. The wind wraps itself around the sounds of the traffic, slowing it, smothering it out until the sound of the city is like a distant memory, a foggy thought. My ears ring.

*writing continued in slides*

Portraits of K man at home and some words that kinda describe what I feel when I read his poetry.

I take a moment to rest on a friend’s couch in their high rise apartment while they freshen up in another room. The lounge room’s floor to ceiling windows open out onto the city, the busy motorway down below. traffic sounds growing louder and multiplying, screeching breaks, the downshift of a semi trailer, a souped up road bike echos through an underpass, sirens bleed out and bounce off city walls, rev, beep, screech, metallic engine parts spinning a thousand times per second, fuel exploding pushing everybody forward, forward, forward. A tiny lamp on a stone side table spreads a soft warm light in a corner of the room leaving the rest in shadow. I just lie there watching the long white curtains sway and flap in a warm summer breeze thats blowing in between the skyscrapers from the hills beyond. The wind wraps itself around the sounds of the traffic, slowing it, smothering it out until the sound of the city is like a distant memory, a foggy thought. My ears ring.

*writing continued in slides*

@bures_band @lovepolice @supersonic_billions

@bures_band @lovepolice @supersonic_billions

@bures_band @lovepolice @supersonic_billions

@bures_band @lovepolice @supersonic_billions

@duncanwright__ and his artwork ‘Veil’ in this years @fremantlebiennale

“A work which has been bobbing around in my mind for well over three years, through various iterations - involving everything from percieving ideas of colonisation, to gigantic mirror arrays - it was eventually developed in a residency at Fremantle Art Centre and finally resulted in what it has become, which has something to do with the intangible search for a feeling. It is a post-humous collaboration with my grandfather, Gareth Morse (painter, educator, academic, critic) who taught me how to see and think about the world” @duncanwright__

@duncanwright__ and his artwork ‘Veil’ in this years @fremantlebiennale

“A work which has been bobbing around in my mind for well over three years, through various iterations - involving everything from percieving ideas of colonisation, to gigantic mirror arrays - it was eventually developed in a residency at Fremantle Art Centre and finally resulted in what it has become, which has something to do with the intangible search for a feeling. It is a post-humous collaboration with my grandfather, Gareth Morse (painter, educator, academic, critic) who taught me how to see and think about the world” @duncanwright__

@duncanwright__ and his artwork ‘Veil’ in this years @fremantlebiennale

“A work which has been bobbing around in my mind for well over three years, through various iterations - involving everything from percieving ideas of colonisation, to gigantic mirror arrays - it was eventually developed in a residency at Fremantle Art Centre and finally resulted in what it has become, which has something to do with the intangible search for a feeling. It is a post-humous collaboration with my grandfather, Gareth Morse (painter, educator, academic, critic) who taught me how to see and think about the world” @duncanwright__

@duncanwright__ and his artwork ‘Veil’ in this years @fremantlebiennale

“A work which has been bobbing around in my mind for well over three years, through various iterations - involving everything from percieving ideas of colonisation, to gigantic mirror arrays - it was eventually developed in a residency at Fremantle Art Centre and finally resulted in what it has become, which has something to do with the intangible search for a feeling. It is a post-humous collaboration with my grandfather, Gareth Morse (painter, educator, academic, critic) who taught me how to see and think about the world” @duncanwright__

@duncanwright__ and his artwork ‘Veil’ in this years @fremantlebiennale

“A work which has been bobbing around in my mind for well over three years, through various iterations - involving everything from percieving ideas of colonisation, to gigantic mirror arrays - it was eventually developed in a residency at Fremantle Art Centre and finally resulted in what it has become, which has something to do with the intangible search for a feeling. It is a post-humous collaboration with my grandfather, Gareth Morse (painter, educator, academic, critic) who taught me how to see and think about the world” @duncanwright__