In Time’s Ruins
2025
16 minutes
Two-channel video installation
Act I
An antique Austrian grand piano sits in idyllic morning light in the artist’s studio in Downtown Los Angeles. A mover arrives and begins disassembling it, his movements steady and unfazed. Soon, the instrument is ready for departure.
Act II
The mover rolls the piano into the garage. A dark space, concrete columns covered in graffiti. The music spirals. Jazz begins to glitch, speeding up, unraveling into something stranger. Then, a rupture: silence. From here, the film descends into myth.
Act III
The piano appears again, now alone in the barren desert. Relentless gunshots begin. Bullets pierce the piano’s body, shattering keys. When a round strikes the strings, it produces a sound, almost musical, but cruel in its very musicality. A thin stick holding up the lid is struck. It breaks. The lid slams shut. Light begins to shift. The sky softens. The wounded piano sits in silent vastness. The moon rises.
Act IV
One by one, figures draped in jewel tones emerge in a line, marching solemnly. In the backdrop are the eroded shells of two buildings, their warped silhouettes like an alien ruin. Soon it becomes clear: this is a funeral procession. At its center, four people carry the shattered piano on a palanquin. The marchers advance through the ghost town in slow unison. The music deepens, ending on a gothic note.
Act V
Dreamlike, the music restarts as the streets of Downtown Los Angeles comes into view. A sign outside an Evangelical church reads: Pare de Sufrir. Below it, pigeons feast on spilled popcorn. The ghostly parade reappears, bearing the piano through the Jewelry District. Storefronts sparkle with gold. The procession crosses busy intersections. Pedestrians barely look up.
Act VI
The music lightens to playful jazz. As the marchers mover deeper into the city, they ease into a gentle trot, joyous. Moving in loose formation, they weave through the golden light of the Flower District. The air shimmers with almost too much warmth. At some point, the piano is set down. The group skips off together, their laughter carnivalesque, until it is swallowed by the last rays of sunlight.
Act VII
Night falls. The sky is nearly dark, though a faint blush of pink still clings to the horizon. Under the fading light, the mover loads the piano - now barely holding together - back into his trailer. He drives off into the night.