Two machines are the protagonists of Rodney Graham’s film installation: a 1930s typewriter by German manufacturer Rheinmetall and a 1960s Cinemeccanica Victoria 8 projector produced in Italy. Both machines once stood for the very epitome of technological achievement; both now bear witness to an antiquated, long obsolete technique. The film projected by the gigantic, rattling 35mm projector is barely 11 minutes long. Our gaze runs over the shiny black typewriter as if it were a fetish: the curved case, the unused platen roller, the shiny carriage that moves the paper along. The mechanical writing automat presents itself from all angles in close-up and in long, static shots. The elegant appearance of this untouched device, accompanied by the steady rattling of the projector, communicates the promise of speedy, eloquently flowing writing. But then suddenly snow sets in, covers the immaculate surface, clogs the technical device, and puts an end to any hope in aspiring to progress. If the mechanization of writing stands for the beginning of modernism, then burying the virgin machine under a blanket of snow (flour) might be read as incorporating its demise.

Graham found the pristine typewriter in a junk shop in Vancouver. Since it had never been used, he felt it was like a time capsule sheltering an old tale. In the installation, the juxtaposed filmed image and the real projector are comparable in scale. Graham placed the projector on a stand, making not just a functional statement but also a sculptural one so that both devices seem to converse quite naturally.