Imagine the landscape of possibilities for your life as a vast pinewood forest. There are mirrors and screens set into the tree-trunks, and as you peer into each, you see at first your own familiar face. The reflection alters as you stare. It’s David Cameron lying to camera. No, it’s a Cassetteboy mash-up. Now it’s Marina Abramovich, tugging at your soul. Hang on a minute, she’s getting up out of her seat and turning her back on you. She walks slowly towards the blue-screen within the screen, her clothes dropping away like Scarlett Johansson’s in ‘that scene’ from Jonathan Glazier’s Under The Skin. A breeze tickles your shoulder blades. Where have your own threads gone? Those selvedge jeans cost a guilty £200! At least there’s no one here to see your naked imperfections. Relief is short-lived. Rustling from a dense cluster of pines catches your attention, as white noise fills every screen. Stepping towards the quivering branches, arms crossed over your chest, fear bubbles at the base of your spine. It pops into glorious amusement as two giggling men tumble forth from the undergrowth. Oh look, it’s Charlie Brooker and the comedian Stewart Lee, having a friendly play-fight. And upon realising that you are once again clothed, in a preposterous Minnie Mouse costume, you think ‘Oh, what the heck’ and join them for a wrestle amidst the bluebells.
Our cultural, political and aesthetic choices connect us. Shared humour cements our kinship.