:: Shalom Gorewitz - Video Artist ::

At the end of the summer, the well went dry. Hurricanes demolished the delta coast. Last spring we suffered a locust-like plague, barren trees devoured after bloom. The moths die of hunger, the leaves return. October rain refills the well. During the hottest days of summer, I experienced the Meadowlands, an airy AIR searching for a clean breath. Reclaimed landfill, surrounded by active trash dumps, near the Newark airport. Putrid smell, foul waters, this is our flood plain, how will it protect us from a surge? Swarms of gnats guard the transmission towers. They look like the floaters in my left eye, out of focus, shapeless blobs quickly moving in slow motion, clouding the lens, turning day to night. We cruise endlessly, dreaming that a video might turn back the tide. Witnessing, caught between two worlds, tending the polluted garden, pretending that the noise is silence.

Riding down the elevator with neighbor Peter Brown, a Scientist, I told him I was struggling for a name to describe the chaotic nature of the Meadowlands. He suggested thrashing for several reasons- it was what I was doing at the point; in computer jargon it means that the system is overworked with too many processes while relying on too few resources; it also relates to the many versions of this video I've made over the past few months trying to find the right way to convey the sensual experience of working there- the smells, insects, and sounds. As I explored by boat, car, and foot, it was hard to avoid signs of how this was a thoroughly thrashed and trashed (beaten and humiliated) environment in need of restraint and rejuvenation.


	At the end of the summer, the well went dry. Hurricanes demolished the delta coast. Last spring we suffered a locust-like plague, barren trees devoured after bloom. The moths die of hunger, the leaves return. October rain refills the well. During the hottest days of summer, I experienced the Meadowlands, an airy AIR searching for a clean breath. Reclaimed landfill, surrounded by active trash dumps, near the Newark airport. Putrid smell, foul waters, this is our flood plain, how will it protect us from a surge? Swarms of gnats guard the transmission towers. They look like the floaters in my left eye, out of focus, shapeless blobs quickly moving in slow motion, clouding the lens, turning day to night. We cruise endlessly, dreaming that a video might turn back the tide. Witnessing, caught between two worlds, tending the polluted garden, pretending that the noise is silence. Riding down the elevator with neighbor Peter Brown, a Scientist, I told him I was struggling for a name to describe the chaotic nature of the Meadowlands. He suggested thrashing for several reasons- it was what I was doing at the point; in computer jargon it means that the system is overworked with too many processes while relying on too few resources; it also relates to the many versions of this video I've made over the past few months trying to find the right way to convey the sensual experience of working there- the smells, insects, and sounds. As I explored by boat, car, and foot, it was hard to avoid signs of how this was a thoroughly thrashed and trashed (beaten and humiliated) environment in need of restraint and rejuvenation.
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