The landscapes in Perlov’s video are more then mere backgrounds. They are the site of battle between different perceptions of time and memory. The ancient, seemingly-eternal tempo of the rocks and the tempo of the musical alien-character, who dropped down in the midst of this wasteland, one of unbearable beauty and stillness, attempting to observe, listen, interact. Coming from nowhere and going back to nowhere, this character refers to many likewise wanderers throughout histories. And in this land of Genesis, where the alien finds herself, her gestures and tools seem as odd and detached as the hand-shaped spaceship onboard which she flew in. She flickers, disappears and reappears, attempting to merge with this impassive scenery. Zion’s fiction.

A radio station travels through similar, historical soundscapes, as the ones originated in the Big Bang, playing a glitchy cover to a known Israeli song telling of the romance between Venus and Jupiter. A live-signal should arrive. In the post-flood ‘old-world' ,one of both creation and distraction, the alienated alien moves amongst valleys and mountaintops, as if floating in front of them, not touching, preforming tactics of listening. This dry universe remains distant in its hunting stillness. Her rhythm, and the rhythm of the land. “I’m here” she shouts against the deaf, absurd mountains. Plunged into this beauty, wisdom is enriched with nothingness. “I’m here”. Only low-frequency feedbacks bounce back echoing, amongst others, Abraham, then vanish as quickly as the dust finds rest at her feet. “I’m here”. Frozen memories of an (old?) world.

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Text - Ben Livne Weitzman

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