The exhibition consisted of close-up video stills painted with minute differences of light effect or lens crop or the smallest turn of a head. These paintings from a sequence of frames (each separated by a fraction of a second) from a digitised vhs copy of Steve Scott and Al Parker’s Turned On (1982) were installed in short bursts, one beside the other.

In this version, two transcriptions, so close they could even be from the same frame are shown, one within the other.

I’m always interested in cuts and inserts and the differences between continuous and contiguous surfaces, but this painting ramps things up. Not only does the smaller picture exist within the larger, but the smaller is nested within a fine-line frame, the space for which then is additionally cut into the surrounding picture, causing gaps on four edges to open-up which serve to both connect and sever the image. The almost bleached-out white light of the film, intensified by the wear of the re-played tape and the copying from one format to another, is given its opposite in the black gaps caused by the cold steel frames. These micro-voids then are spaces where decades and instants become confused and where personal biographies are collapsed into other cultural histories. Just as the interval between the frames of a film are almost imperceptible (see the paintings in gallery 1), so lust, loss, joy and tragedy are unavoidable in the gap within and between this painting within a painting.