Curatorialist

I’m sure as you get older you learn to romanticize the imagery of your youth. Certainly, that is the subject of many a song, novel, script, poem, probably even architecture, dance and other things, like how you parent. Down home this past week, I travelled through my own ghostly playgrounds and flashes of images past seeped through in flickery, Proustian, Christopher Walken in “Dead Zone” kind of way. No coincidence, then, that I’d wander upon this video today, looking like memories I didn’t know I had and, who knows, maybe they are mine, it’s hard to tell the difference anymore. The band is new (Bibio), the look is old, but the effect is nothing less than stunning and has me lost in a daze of childhood school days of overhead projectors, endless educational videos and banal things seen for the first time. It defies description, I am only glad that certain artists are able capture small pieces of it so I don’t feel crazy when the flood comes.