Fishing is not done on Tuesdays
Landscape is a question of distance. Patterns and formations become recognizable from a distance revealing the landscape as a fabrication, a result of natural and historical movements.
Fishing is not done on Tuesdays takes variously distanced, moving and focused looks at a location on the coast of Ghana. The first building block of a grid that threads its way through the entire film is indicated by a rotating bird´s eye view of a densely woven canopy of trees intersected by an uneven wall. The vertigo of this circular motion shifts into a gradual glide along untreated cement pylons. Their verticality intersects with the horizon line visible in the distance, to be ruptured only by the turbulence of approaching waves. Constructed lines produce visual axes and visual slits, dividing and lending rhythm to an apparently wild growth of abundant vegetation. These lines and grids do not divide the interior and exterior but rather create openings and passageways.
Over and over again views are seen that refute these clear geometries, vibrating and unstable, brought near by binoculars but at the same time strangely far removed. Fisherman on their boats, at prayer before the workday begins; two boys with toy guns in search of an invisible adversary. Smoke condenses; silhouettes become blurred. Are these everyday scenes or the distant echoes of disturbing memories?
There is no fishing on Tuesdays. Loudspeaker systems are the domain of Christian agitators on Sundays. The everyday rhythms of this place are overlaid with the drumming of rotors, the swelling and waning of music and the ocean. Their intersection is marked by this house on stilts, this perch from which an interior grid merges with the exterior as landscape. (Katrin Mundt)
Translation: Eve Heller