Barking Film Series!

A Slice of Human Caviar - Q & A with Paul Senior

On March 27th 1998, Paul Senior woke up, took a picture of himself and went about his life. For nigh a decade this routine continued until Paul had amassed a mountain of mug shots that documented the slow, barely perceptible changes in himself. Bad haircuts, glum days, unfortunate outfits are all recorded here in the short film, “Human Caviar,” written by Paul Senior and directed by Tony Johnson. Now, where did the time go….?

Q & A with Paul Senior

Laura: How would you describe yourself when that annoying question “And what do you do?” pops up?

Paul: An artist, using whatever means possible to express myself. Whether it be drawing, painting, sculpture, installations, performance, writing, film or photography In “Human Caviar,” I am just using photography as a tool. In many ways, I consider this a long term performance project. Lately, I have been doing spontaneous writing and drawing.

Laura: When you began photographing yourself, where did you envision the project going?

Paul: Photographing myself was a conscious effort to create a visual diary: a split second of a moment of my life. It reflects elements of my emotional state. The project is something I imagined would carry on for the rest of my lifetime, with the last photograph being on the day that I die. The work was never meant to be a film. The photographs are a piece of work in their own right. I did think of turning the piece into a animation. When Tony and I collaberated on the film, he wanted a soundtrack and the monologue seemed to fit quite well with the film.

Laura:In many ways the film isolates you, Paul, in almost an experiment-like manner: the mug shots, the bald description of your actions. Do you think the film does distance you from the viewer, or is there a chance for the viewer to connect with you, despite this alienating effect?

Paul: There is an element of isolation, but that’s a feeling we all share at times. The photos were always developed in a normal, High street chemists with no alterations made to any of the prints. Obviously, day-to-day there would be a difference. At times, I was feeling sad, happy, depressed, exited, lonely, content, tired, inspired, and so on. We share these emotions even if you only see a glimpse of someone’s photo. It all shows in the face, eyes and body language. Even the inevitable aging process shows to a certain extent. We are born, age and die.

Laura: How did you decide which photos would linger longer on the screen and which would flicker past instantaneously? Is there any reason why some photos deserve special attention? Did something particular happen on that day that you wanted to preserve?

Paul: It’s actually quite a simple answer. Tony came up with the idea that the photo on the right is the daily photograph. Every seventh photograph would move over to the left - this is the weekly photograph. Then every fourth weekly photograph would move over to the left - the monthly photograph. Then every twelfth of the monthly photographs would move over to the last column on the left - the yearly photography.

Laura: The final lines of the film indicate the emotional baggage dragged along throughout your day as well as the impossible desire to wipe out the past. Why at the last moment did you feel it necessary to let the viewer into your thoughts? Is this a normal reaction to one’s past?

Paul: Of course, everyone’s a product of their past, learning from mistakes and developing as a person. I think the film shows the monotony of day-to-day reality. The work and routines you’re forced to do each day. Taking the photos became a way for me to endure that routine. I didn’t necessarily feel I had to let the viewer into my thoughts; what’s shown is apart of human nature. I hope this ritualistic taking of photos brought out a honesty that cannot be hidden.