Exhibition revolves around the intimate minutiae of the lives of a middle-aged couple, both artists, in the process of selling off their modernist London home. Going into the film I was hoping for something that might in some way constitute a relaxing viewing experience, but that wasn't what I found here. There is a tension permeating every shot that belies the otherwise mundane premise. Some past incident, never explicitly mentioned, seems to have raised a barrier between the couple that neither seems capable of breaching - they talk but they don't truly communicate, meaningful conversation replaced by guarded politeness and detached analysis. This anxious tension is only exacerbated by the sound design; Hogg's London is one that is steeped in the ambient noise of alarms, screeching cars and raised voices and I found this particularly disaffecting. Perhaps of late I have grown increasingly unused to the ever-present noise and bustle of city life.
My favourite shot in the film was a visually striking image of the wife taken through the house's blinds that reminded me of the several Man Ray pieces that play with light and shadow on the female form. Tantalising glimpses of flesh flickering in and out of view through the gaps in the blinds as she creeps ever closer to fulfilling her latent desire for exposure.
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