We put all the stuff inside the van the night before, as we had to get up at 5.00am to be in time for sunrise. Sunrise was at 06.30am and it was a 20 minute drive. We got there in time to set up our installation and set phone alarms for every minute. And there we go. From 06.30am til 06.30pm we had to move the sliding system every minute. A centimetre for every minute of daylight. Some people passed by asking us what was up with the ping pong table or the sjoelbak or whatever else they could come up with followed by their chuckles. We would smile and have a little talk about the who and the what.
Sitting there, phone alarms going off every minute. Time becomes longer and shorter every other hour. It’s a weird experience making sandwiches in between alarms. The function of time changes; on one hand you can’t wait till you’re done, because of the type of work you’re doing, on the other hand the monotonous work is kind of interesting. It’s directly fulfilling in a way. It reminds me of working on the factory line when i was a kid. We remembered the time works of Maarten Baas, where time becomes something physical. We could relate with the guy writing the clock or brooming the dirt clock.
Anyway. We talked all through the day until the last alarms rang and we couldn’t wait to take the installation ‘home’ and see what kind of light we harvested, and what the daylight drew upon our window. So we packed up, drove to Felix’s, dropped the installation in the kitchen, pulled out the screen and started to spray it in the shower. Because of the window's size we couldn’t spray it out in Felix’s own spray cabin, so the shower it is. We sprayed and sprayed, but nothing seemed to happen. Until we could see some small pieces got sprayed out. Aaah finally we got somewhere. In the end we got a beautiful drawing out of the screen. Now what would the actual print bring us?