The slow shots of fences and open landscape in Knavesmire hold a definite photographic sensibility; almost still images and unhurried panning shots, sequenced together to construct a gently moving whole, a meditation on space and light. Warm colours and a vintage tone are a contemporary rendition of traditional film recording processes – an iPhone pretending to be a Super 8 camera. A smoothness and luminosity within the imagery discloses the modern nature of HD video and the glitches and jumps, whilst not immediately apparent, should inject small shocks of recognition in the viewer. The lack of explicit sound within the piece is also an indication of the digital/analogue juxtaposition. The sound of a projector is an integral part of the experience of watching a Super 8 film, and yet it is absent, albeit inconspicuously so, in Knavesmire, further questioning the nature of documentary and recording processes and our expectations of them. Nevertheless, the film isn’t silent. There is an ambient audio track that could result from any point within the entire process of recording, processing, editing and finalising the project, emphasising the various levels of mediation inherent in the work.
The largely un-manipulated and clear imagery seen in Knavesmire lends it an unambiguity that enables the viewer to easily engage with the content, whilst the slowed pace and the contemplative aesthetic of the video allows the viewer to concentrate on numerous details, an act that they may potentially carry with them into their experiences beyond their encounter with the film.