She and he. Day after day. Hour after hour. Minute after minute. Message after message. Sentence after sentence. Photo, link, voice message. Click after click. With bursts of dopamine. With phones all day in sight. With phones close at hand at night. Phone in the bag, pocket, on the table, in the bathroom, on the headboard, in the hand. A phone call, a message away from each other. Always available. Always present to suppress the feeling of the other’s absence. Awaiting a notification. In fear of an empty battery, muted tone, lost reception. On love, on shopping lists, on separation, on jealousy, on fatigue, on covid, on one life in two apartments, on the past, on the present, on the future. Always on love. Connected and separated by screens. Seemingly always together. Chronically lonely. Seemingly never alone. Worn down by separation. Protected by virtual proximity. Protected from real closeness. How do they feel as they type out their relationship? How consciously do they build it? When he laughs in writing, is he really laughing? Does she believe his laughter when she reads it? Is she really crying with the crying emoji? Do they deepen understanding or create misunderstandings? Do they feel that the other is there for them? Do they feel lonely? Present yet absent. So close yet so far. ALONE TOGETHER.
She and he. A and B. 2 characters. 2 performers. 2 phones. 2 screens. 1 camera. 360 degrees. One facing the other. One next to the other. Face to face. She reads his messages sent to her. He reads hers. At the railway station, in the retirement home, in the park, on the promenade, in bed, in the empty parking lot, in the children’s playground, in the kitchen, in the bar, on the bridge, by the river, at Gornji Grad, in school with the students, in the furniture salon, among passers-by, among voices, alone. Within hand’s reach. United by space. Separated by camera. Split by frame. United by recording. Never closer. Never farther. Do they see each other? Can they hear each other? Do they recognize each other? Do they recognize themselves in their own words? Are “they” really “they” or are they just characters, created in the space of virtual communication? Are “they” happening or are they just performing love through the act of reading texts? Are they more real over a screen or face to face? Does technology bring them together or apart? ALONE TOGETHER.
On one website. In about 30 videos. She and he in different video formats – vertical, square, horizontal. She and he on recordings of varying length – from 1 minute to 1 hour. With subtitles. With titles.
