A piece of soil with plants displayed in a cabinet – three-dimensional and yet only a digital image. The sound suggests a sterile exhibition space. As forest sounds start to play, the stems, leaves and blossoms dissolve in particles and layers. As if awakening from a coma, an organic rebellion flares up, a brief revolt against the technically perfect simulation of nature.

Marta Pajek (digitally) created a complex, atmospheric universe – with minimalist means and yet rich in detail. References to contemporary history meet visions of an intuited, dystopian future. We are made aware of (our own) transience in subtle, but almost brutal ways. Ageing bodies, ageing ideas. In the end, the grande dame of Polish cinema, actor Anna Polony, sings: “… when will we ever learn?”

An escalating neighbourhood dispute as a pacifist parable on the Korean War. The pixilation, which Norman McLaren is said to have pioneered, makes plot and scenery look more and more absurd. The madness is heihgtened by frantic electronic sounds, which were also created by a special technique: McLaren drew optical sound signals in lines and dots by hand directly on the soundtrack.

Electromagnetic waves cannot be detected by our conventional sensorium, but are perceived as stressful by electro-sensitive persons, “like a substance pouring all over you”. Karl Lemieux and David Bryant translate this invisible, inaudible threat into decay damage to original 16mm film stock. Visual wounds, wrapped in subtle drone sounds.