pouringdown

This is spooky, romantic and somehow believable–like anything COULD happen in this strange little underworld you have created. Thank you.

Practice – what better advice?

I sought out my deceased grandfather in the dark once, he spoke to me but I was awake. (Completely irrelevant)

It seems the colors and light (and lack of) tell your story, but no one could have guessed what was hidden in the cracks and crevices without your narration. Another beautiful piece…

I love how the text of the narration is so well married to video. It’s so subtle that I didn’t even notice on the first viewing, but of course it’s why it works. I think you should tag this post “dreamy”.

I miss grandma, too.

Great story, great video, brilliant!

thanks dan!
we loved this one.
tender, funny, beautifully narrated, poignant!
we wanted more and more and more.

so truthful -every time I ride the train in dark hours of long and tumultuous nights I too can hear their stories. AWE INSPIRING!

-taxiplasm

I never feel articulate or eloquent enough to comment on your films. They’re too beautiful. And simple. And perfectly executed. Like this one. Moving and mesmerising and immersive and funny and real and immediate and… just… oh. I love it.

Wish my grandparents would show up on the trains – both the living and the dead. They would enjoy the ride.

I was reminded again with this video the things that drew me to your pages, to you art, to your stories, to your moving pictures, to your practice.

Wow. Loved it. Thanks Dan.

Have you ever read Will Self?

and I really love to watch your work, this has inspired me to begin a blog…

Have you read Will Self? Essayist, novelist, short stories?
Your work is inspiring.

thanks.

where should i start with Self?

your writing always makes me do a mental double take.

I wake up in bed crying covered in plantain chips. The goldfish are floating in the aquarium and my head feels like it has been repeatedly hammered by a cricket bat. The sun is down, so I assume it’s either early morning or late evening. The dog is scraping at my door, I let him in and he jumps into my arms and pisses all over me with excitement. I laugh; I could have belted him but it what’s the point?

The phone rings. I answer to shut it up.

Apparently Ed was found wandering in the park yesterday off his brain on Ecstasy and cheap speed and could I come over and check on him? Well, he’d got himself into this and he could fucking well get himself out, as far as I was concerned.

I crack some eggs into the frying pan and watch the milkyness of them cooking like it is some kind of miracle.

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