A FISHING TOWN
Rough streets, cold docks, a town the rest of the country forgot. Nobody handed anybody anything. You learned early that if you wanted something, you took the long way round and built it yourself.
Came from fuck all. Now I put my soul in it.
Faces can be manufactured.
Voices can be replicated.
Visibility is not virtue.
A mask does not make a liar.
YOU ARE BEING FARMED.
Rough streets, cold docks, a town the rest of the country forgot. Nobody handed anybody anything. You learned early that if you wanted something, you took the long way round and built it yourself.
No opportunities. No education worth the name. He fell through the system the way a lot of kids round here do: quietly, and with nobody noticing.
So he taught himself. One cracked screen, one bedroom, a thousand nights. Code, sound, image. Everything nobody would teach him, he took.
He came to believe that systems built by people can be bought, and that the work should speak louder than the face. So he built a machine of his own.
He showed his face once. They came to his door. He learned what exposure costs.
His community stood in front of that door. People just as rough as he is. That is who the mask is for.
Now there is no face to find, only the work. When they think they know the person behind the mask… they do not.
The following films were produced to ensure the correct behaviour of citizens. Viewing is mandatory.