Framing The Bling Ring: (Im)material Psychogeography and Screen Technology

Abstract

Humans are spatial creatures. Everywhere we walk, we assess in a spatial tapestry; this place feels like this. The exploration and learning of a space turns it into a place, investing it with emotions and memories. This transfer was first outlined by French neo-Marxist Guy Debord, who dubbed this enriched landscape psychogeography. Walking in famous cities, it is an eerie yet common experience to look at a certain landmark, one you have never been to before, and have a moment of recognition. I discovered this on a trip to New York, a place which felt haunted by memories I had no right to possess. The city had taken on a cinematic familiarity. It was as though, long before I booked my flights, I had already been many times. Of course, in a sense I had. One of cinema's chief pleasures is its ability to provide the illusion of travel. In the medium's first days, motion pictures were projected out of the windows of stationary train carriages, so that the spectator could experience a journey they could never afford to take otherwise.3 In its earlier forms, cinema was a mode of mass virtual transportation. Even without the elaborate ruse of stationary train carriages, watching a film can feel like being lifted out of the room, and transported into the world on screen. I in-tend to demonstrate that the impact a film can have on the spectator's psychogeography goes beyond illusory transportation. An examination of how the spectator perceives the landscape behind the screen reveals that the distinction between material geography and psychogeography is collapsing.