To touch – an act increasingly elusive. We are made aware of the virus we may pick up each time our fingers or hands, elbows and clothes come into contact with another surface. Public health information videos highlight areas touched by infection in red. A woman sits in a restaurant – her mouth, her knife and fork, her plate, the door handles, the bottle of wine passed from waiter to diner, all blaze in red. Infection spreads on skin and metal and plastic and wood. Don’t touch.
But our virtual lives also prevent touch. I type on and look at the same surface on my laptop and my phone. I cannot get beyond the screen. I am prevented from reaching into a stubborn flatness.
I feel frustration. I want to touch. I want to make my human presence known.
In these videos, my hands reach in and play with what would otherwise be still (like a background on a phone screen). I make things move. I do not allow the video and the things that I film to exist without me.