A reality that has the inertia to pull apart the seams of our tentative understanding of what we see and how we feel. Escape Velocity is only achieved in conjunction with the proper application of machines that defy/belie these laws. With no angle of attack, there is no lift. No place to go. The rotors howl and just keep spinning.
The two films in No Angle of Attack are a blithe coercion of the viewer into the moods and language of violence. They are, at depth, metonyms for control— packaged as innocuous and premeditated comic relief. All the carnage is wholly irreconcilable. One images, the other illustrated. One captured, the other constructed. One piloted, the other programmed. The agents of chaos are always beyond view/invisible/imaginary. Despite their fury perhaps they leave no scars and return to their masters unscathed. Beneath the scattered flight path of the miniature helicopter is a pattern not dissimilar to the splattered shapes of blood on loop. Futility in repose, never quite gaining enough ground to become sinister or profound. Each film a parade of partial objects cast upon a stage with no direction home. Dissection without murder is even more debased (barbarism has its limits but curiosity does not). Torture is a probing gesture with no angle of attack. None at all.
Tom Morrill lives and works in Brooklyn, NY. Recent collaborations include the musical score for Two Sisters, a film by Keola Racela (2015). This year also saw the release of his first record Pain English under the pseudonym Pale Jones. Upcoming projects include Linda from 1-5, a performance and exhibition.
Rebecca Naegele lives and works in Ridgewood, NY. Her work was recently included in the group exhibition STOPGAP, a collaboration with Andrea Fourchy and Lily Randall (2014); previous exhibitions have taken place at BRIC House, Brooklyn; Fort Gondo, St. Louis; Los Caminos, St. Louis; and The Lemp, St. Louis.