
Yao Qingmei
We watch a woman sitting in a small, sterile room, alone amid a bank of monitors and random office equipment. Fluorescent tubes radiate an even glow of artificial light around her. Time creeps by. There is no progression; the only movements in the scene are occasional glitches on the screens, a printer spitting out reports, the air setting the leaves of a potted plant aquiver, and the woman readjusting herself in her chair from time to time. These minor events, transpiring at the security control room of an unnamed Chinese seaside resort community, constitute the central component of Yao Qingmei’s