Certain logistical issues meant we were already reconsidering the co-operative nature of the task (in the show Gillian and I are attached to each other via a pulley system), and we were wondering how the solo, personal nature of the text worked with the two person task.Īt the very last minute (in fact later than that, the cameras were running and Gillian had started work on the circle) I took myself out of the process. When we got into Sheffield Independent Film’s studio we were still working out what the film was - how the ritual would be different to that of the show. Thinking about making a digital short of 9 Billion Miles From Home I was interested in using this text, rather than the semi-improvised journey texts that Gillian and I deliver in the show (I think perhaps I was wary of fixing them in a distinct work, born as they are, each time they are delivered, of a particular time and place). It was produced in a simple, task-based way - she saw each image one at a time and then described it: I can see… I can see… I can see… But as the Voyager satellites became a less significant element of 9 Billion Miles, this material didn’t connect with the ritual we were creating as the show. The orphan material from 9 Billion Miles From Home was a description by Gillian of the world as if all she could see of it were the encoded images carried by the Voyager satellites. Out of context these sections can be difficult to transplant into another show or process (the lovely opening and closing sequences of a version of Hang Up that seemed to be about kidnapping were cut late into the process, and never found a home anywhere else). The intention will usually be that this material will then find another life in something else (a long list of irritations survived the process of Saved and turned up in a phone box in Hang Up, for example), but in fact often it doesn’t. Most of our processes will throw up pieces of material like this - often held on to quite late into the process, and then cut when the show is actually being constructed from the material we’ve made it just doesn’t fit with the rest of the material, or something has to be cut because the show is just going to be too long. The initial intention was to document the circle-making ritual that Gillian and I perform in 9 Billion Miles From Home, and combine it with a section from the devising process of that show that didn’t make the final cut of the show. A Perfect Circle is one of several pieces of work to emerge from Third Angel’s The Distance Project, an exploratory process obsessed with time and with returning with circles and cycles, with precision.
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