Willie Doherty

Alexander and Bonin

“You think you know me. I am unknowable.” The male voice is measured, calm, and somber. “I am invisible. I disappear in a crowd.” Pausing between lines, the speaker allows a few seconds for each statement to sink in before proceeding to the next. “I share your fears. I know your desires.” As the recitation continues, we watch a projection of a lone young white man with a shaved head and severe expression; he remains motionless and silent as the camera circles him, steadily and unceasingly. “There will be no television. There will be no radio.” Interspersed with what we assume to be the subject’s characterizations of himself and his relationship to us are predictions of a desolate future in which the conveniences of modern life have melted away. “I am fictional. I am real.” The man, dressed in a denim jacket, black T-shirt, and gold chain, stands in an abandoned warehouse, sufficient detail

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