M O R E
Illustration + Storytelling
Fairytale Architecture Competition
Autumn 2017
M O R E
A recollection of a diagnosed hoarder living in a modernist home.
ACT I - S I L H O U E T T E S
There is a two-dimensional image. Perhaps a painting. One half: familiar green tree tops, the other half: powder pink to blue gradient sky. The image begins to move, the treetops sway in the wind. A voice fills the scene–
VOICE
How does that saying go…
As the view pans back slowly, the trees simultaneously expand in numbers but shrink in scale. A manicured striped lawn fills the foundation.
VOICE
If a tree falls and no one is there to hear it...
Pan further back - vertical stripes appear, a module is formed.
VOICE
…does it make a sound?
A figure appears within the module: a tall blonde-haired woman faces outward, she is wearing a soft pink dress with an open back. Her reflection is visible against the glass.
WOMAN
Yeah, I think that's right. These thoughts come and go like the seasons outside these walls, or lack thereof. Thank god I have you to talk to. I admit, sometimes it can get pretty lonely out here...
The night closes in and jet black shadows dance across the white gridded plane.
WOMAN
This might sound silly, but sometimes the trees feel like they're closing in on me, the ground disappears into an infinite plane...the sky and stars are my only relief. The shadows, the shadows frighten me the most...beasts, monsters, men...who knows what's out there - lurking, waiting...but I guess I'm the real animal aren't I? Prowling and trapped in this glass prism.
She gently presses herself against the glass - she can feel the elements of the closing night soaking into her skin - they absorb each other, like parasite and host.
WOMAN
I know...I know...I sound paranoid…
Long dark figures glide across the floor and begin to stretch toward her.
WOMAN
But it tricks you doesn't it, the shadow...
The darkness creeps up her legs, then covers her back - she is on the verge of being engulfed in the dark veil.
WOMAN
The smallest object becomes stretched to its limits, the largest becomes truncated and mutilated, banal forms begin to coalesce and merge mutating into impossible silhouettes...it's terrifying, and yet strangely beauti–
<RING RING>
The sound is deafening within the emptiness of the space. Startled, she turns and moves away from the glass and toward the center of the room...she barely escapes.
ACT II - O B J E C T S
WOMAN
Oh my god! That scared me half to death…who could be calling at this hour?
<RING RING>
WOMAN
I'm sorry, this shouldn't take long…
<RING RING>
WOMAN
Alright, alright, I'm coming...
<RING –
WOMAN
Hello, this is Maria.
Maria is on repeat. She's had this conversation before. The breath on the other end methodically rises and falls, pulling deep from struggling lungs.
MARIA
Hello, who is this? I told you to stop calling!
As the relentless breath crashes into her embankment, Maria pours herself a glass of courage. The breath begins to build to a crescendo - then, out of the corner of her eye, Maria sees a figure inside the room.
MARIA
Oh my god, who's there?!
The glass overflows like an erupting volcano - it topples over hitting the table as the rest of the liquid spreads and cascades off the edge of the surface.
MARIA
Oh dammit, now look what I’ve done!
Maria abruptly hangs up the telephone.
The scene is reminiscent of a still-life painting, or possibly a crime scene. She is alone.
She stands, poised, her breathing starts frantic but then levels off as her eyes study the accident in front of her.
MARIA
Objects of Desire, these things...Objects of Desire.
As Maria begins to clean, she suddenly stops and a slight smirk creeps across her face. A low audible laugh resonates from deep within her.
MARIA
Leave it be! Let the whole world gaze upon this accident, this mistake, imperfection, disaster...this, this, this mess...
THIS MESS IS MORE!
ACT III – S P E L L S
In a moment of pure relief and excitement, Maria skips to the record player and pins the needle.
MARIA
You know what's better than cleaning? Dancing!
Jay Hawkins' 1950's hit I Put A Spell On You suddenly fills the room and becomes a giant phonograph resonating the soundwaves through the glass bowl.
MARIA
Mmmm, god I love this song…
She closes her eyes and begins to sway her body - Maria is drunk with sound. As if moving underwater, there is a flowing resistance as her flared arms and open palms break-free with every movement.
<THUD>
She begins to liberate herself from her surroundings and her movements become even more erratic.
<THUD>
She spins faster and faster, her hair is released from its bounds and whips through the air like autumn leaves in the wind.
<THUD>
MARIA
I can feel it, if I close my eyes I can feel myself floating out of here - higher, lighter, furth–
<CRASH>
Startled, Maria stops in her tracks. Something has violently struck the glass. The colors have now drained from the background and a blank canvas surrounds her on all sides.
As she stands and stares at her cracked reflection, we drift in toward the broken pane, then through and downward to a mixture of blood, feathers, and glass.
She could not see the wounded flying thing, but she could hear the fluttering, breaking wing (1)
MARIA
The invisible rendered visible...but at what cost?
ACT IV – M I R A G E
Beads of sweat cover Maria's face. Coming down from her high, she tries to catch her breath as she makes her way toward the bare mattress at the end of the room.
MARIA
I think it's time for a bath, I need to escape this place…
Maria begins to disrobe at the foot of the bed.
<BOOM>
Her belongings are scattered on the mattress. Shoes, jewelry, undergarments - the pink dress is added to the collection.
MARIA
Objects of Desire…
Goosebumps wash over her naked body, like fingertips caressing her skin. She shivers and rubs her arms.
<BOOM BOOM>
MARIA
Sounds like everyone is ringing in the New Year...
<BOOM BOOM BOOM>
Maria walks over to the glass. The fireworks light up the sky and create fading views into the surrounding trees.
MARIA
Those fireworks are getting awfully close...and is that...I think I can see some–
<BOOM BOOM BANG!>
The sound is deafening. The sight is blinding.
Maria turns away and extends her arms to shield herself from the exposure.
As the sights and sounds fade, for a moment Maria catches a glimmer of moving figures in front of her - they fade in and out of her adjusting view, like a mirage in the desert horizon.
ACT V – E S C A P E
Lost within a trance, Maria slowly stammers to the bathtub in the middle of the room.
She climbs in and releases the valve. Vibrant blue and pink colors rush out and begin to fill the vessel.
We slowly pan upward to a plan view. The bathtub begins to overflow and the white canvas is painted below..
As Maria doses in and out of consciousness, she can feel the tides rise and her worries fall…the cascading colors reverberate within her solitude and the <boom> and <bang> of shooting stars echo in the distance…
We pan higher, lighter, and further away......the invisible rendered visible.
(1) Farnsworth, Edith B. "Artifact" poem. 1960.
