They wait for you at every corner, those furious images, those blazing colours. But what if the world was full of sound, and sounds were as intimate and shameless as advertising?
Susan Collins has made her own the intimate and unsettling dimension of hearing. An invisible tongue licks your ear, footsteps echo in empty passageways. A voice insinuates itself into your consciousness, and then, and only then, a splash of light, an image, the colour of a memory. Because they look at the small things, unafraid of sensuousness, sounds and sights, these works are passionate romances with strangers we may never meet: Humans? Machines? Ourselves?
Sean Cubitt 1997