Stalker

A river is nearby, you can hear the flowing water. And woods. Behind the trees are rows of wooden houses. Only their pointed roofs are visible behind the elms. It’s a domestic place but it feels ferrel. Down here by the river seems far away from the houses. The space around you is changing. The grass is getting taller and the river becomes more clear, too clear. Around you the soil is rising up. The sounds of the city are disappearing and you’re sinking. Down into the soil and the watery flow. Apparitions, who sometimes come towards us will also move away from us. Their activities overlap in a cyclical dance like sand sifting through open fingers. This phenomenon creates a syncopated rhythm and humming sound (it cannot really be described). It is neither loud nor quiet, but the reverberation of many activities occurring at once. Within the greater drone are smaller groups, and within those even smaller groups. They make up an interface of moving systems. Few stop to listen, although it is always there to hear. Some who listen have attempted to map out this network of oscillating ghosts. These so-called stalkers, soothsayers, alchemists and magicians and have attempted to forge a path through the woods down to the river. It’s rumoured that last thing they hear before they find it is followed by silence. Nicholas Adamson is a visual artist from Winnipeg, Treaty 1 Territory. His work incorporates personal and cinematic motifs into paintings and woodcut prints. The images can be interpreted as traces from a diary or the framework for an unfinished film. Recent exhibitions include La Maison des Artistes (Winnipeg), Akademie der Bildende Kunst (Vienna), and A und V (Leipzig). He is currently based in Leipzig.