My earliest memories are that of a migrant. Through being displaced, I have always been fascinated by the constant rhythm of migration and the shifting landscape as it unfolds itself, always ending in foreign homes.
I cannot recall my first encounter with the sea, but I can feel it every time I immerse in it. The currents of the ocean, provide remedy and comfort for the alienated gaze. Water is where I am closest to home.
With the recent Syrian refugee crisis, the world witnessed the thriving violence occurring on the sea, burdened by innocent people, when their quest for dignity and happiness is deemed illegitimate. On the other end of the naval routes, container ships wander aimlessly, tasked in keep societies functioning. This migrating flow of cargos, public yet discrete, drew to my attention its ability to function as a metaphor. An allegory for the public yet discrete consequences of our access to excess.
With borrowed equipment from friends and a budget of under £1000, I embarked on an eight day voyage on the stormy seas of the North, crossing into the Baltic. My aim was to create a psycho-geographic film essay, documenting the ethnographic tendencies of the industrial landscape and its malevolent stature over the individual. I opted not to include the human voice in the film, but rather let the narration get occupied by machine-bred resonances interweaved with the hypnotizing soundscape of the sea.
Anina is a film about the transitory state of crossing borders. The shipping industry’s ever-shifting landscape, affecting even this interaction you are having with this text, crafts its own mythology. Through displacing myself on the sea, the alienated gaze returns home, to empathize with tales of migration and wonder.