Chris studied traditional animation and worked in the industry for three years. He helped produce a feature film, a selection of short films, including a music video for U2, as well as development work for a computer game.
He then trained and worked as a teacher of Art, Design and Digital Photography in secondary education for the following ten years, based in Bristol.
Our memories scramble images together, erase parts and embellish others beyond what they were. The mass of lines struggle to collect and describe the mass of protests, the boards remaining empty, as our memory fails to recall each point of anger, hate, fire or flood. These lines then also begin to fade, as year passes year, leaving only the masks that still litter the seas and countries we share. Eventually though, they too become abstract in our minds and pass into the subconscious without meaning.
The hovering phone enhances the image beneath it, but also skews it, bending it to fit the frame. We are given the opportunity to skip and move on to what we really want to see: beauty, killers, cats… As we pass from left to right, as we would a novel, a story unfolds of raw emotions blending into each other, a collective thought being constructed only in order to be more easily forgotten later. If we move backwards from the end, slowly remembering parts of the whole, perhaps our memory will collect enough to regain focus on some of the problems people seemed to care so much about.
As our minds gather information from various social outlets, we can find it easy to persuade ourselves we remember clearly, as though hindsight were in perfect vision: 2020.