I used to have a recurring nightmare. In it I was microscopic, and embedded deep within the cellular fabric of the wall beside my bed. It was as if the infinite, granular dust of the structure had closed in around me, blocking me in completely. It was suffocating. I couldn’t move, and I couldn’t escape.

 

Elevator is an exploration of that claustrophobic state.

 

To embody the paralysis of being stuck, the film turns restriction into its primary language. Only here, I substituted space for time. Shot on Super 16mm film with less than a minute of physical stock, the piece loops brief moments of time. The resulting aesthetic, marked by the natural jitter of the film gate, mirrors the relentless, involuntary repetitions of confinement.

 

It is an exploration of memory and paralysis, where a slow, grinding mechanical lift becomes a living container for an unspoken trauma.