Lyndsay Mann presents an installation of three works held in conspiratorial conversation across a reduced plane of submissive grey walls at FOUR.
In the first room Mann's film 'Twenty Four More Hours of Progress…' shot at Edinburgh's Dean Bridge, a notorious suicide destination since its completion in 1832, documents a banal activity, (rocks being thrown from a bridge), and it's inevitable conclusion (hitting the water), creating a hypnotic momentum through repetition and rhythm. Subtle differences within each sequence indicate some possibility of consequence from the repeated action.
The corridor between the two spaces hosts a speaker voicing intimate, strangulated sounds. Mann's audio work 'Greater Than', comprises individual words recorded, edited and reformed into conversational rhythm just beyond comprehension.
In the second room, a sheet of black glass, which appears as a glossy hole in the wall, comes into view, shifting daylight round the room where the viewer is confronted by the first human-scale realisation of one of Mann's hand-crafted maquettes. The recurring use of black glass in her sculptural installations creates a bond and a tension between the object and it's other self.
The viewer's movement across the space forces an excommunication between the object and it's 'shadow'. At a fixed point the object fills the shiny void, but seen from elsewhere, stands in a state of heightened solitariness.
In the first room Mann's film 'Twenty Four More Hours of Progress…' shot at Edinburgh's Dean Bridge, a notorious suicide destination since its completion in 1832, documents a banal activity, (rocks being thrown from a bridge), and it's inevitable conclusion (hitting the water), creating a hypnotic momentum through repetition and rhythm. Subtle differences within each sequence indicate some possibility of consequence from the repeated action.
The corridor between the two spaces hosts a speaker voicing intimate, strangulated sounds. Mann's audio work 'Greater Than', comprises individual words recorded, edited and reformed into conversational rhythm just beyond comprehension.
In the second room, a sheet of black glass, which appears as a glossy hole in the wall, comes into view, shifting daylight round the room where the viewer is confronted by the first human-scale realisation of one of Mann's hand-crafted maquettes. The recurring use of black glass in her sculptural installations creates a bond and a tension between the object and it's other self.
The viewer's movement across the space forces an excommunication between the object and it's 'shadow'. At a fixed point the object fills the shiny void, but seen from elsewhere, stands in a state of heightened solitariness.
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