Chris Campanioni — Windows 85
- Date
- March 1, 2024
- Poet
- Poet site (external)
Process Note
If this is a book about the body, it's a record of what happens when the body stops being a stable site and becomes a file—captured, reposted, versioned, and rerouted through other people's devices. The film leans into that disappearance: the self is dispersed across screens, formats, and interfaces, and intimacy arrives as something networked—epistolary, delayed, half-public, half-private—rather than face-to-face.
That's the part that sits closest to my practice: treating mediation as the condition of feeling, and using collage, citation, and platform texture to show how desire outgrows the physical even as it stays tethered to it.
What makes this adaptation especially sharp is the inclusion of Campanioni's modeling footage. Those images don't function as "author portrait" so much as evidence of self-commodification: the body as product image, as brand asset, as a surface designed to circulate.
Set against the book's post-internet register—its traffic of immediacy and distance, attachment and dispersal—the modeling shots make the stakes legible: a body can be everywhere and nowhere at once, multiplied across feeds while still hungry for contact. In that tension, Windows 85 reads as a cyberspace opera of want—an ode to desire that keeps exceeding its own containers.