Not Yet is an interactive video installation that allows the viewers to compose their own personal oneiric experience from a given set of borrowed cinematographic imagery. The life-size projection is managed through readings from a sensor that detects movement in space. The linear iconography runs through two poles relative to the viewer's proximity to the screen: the first, "far", is thick fog, taken from Theo Angolopoulos' Ulysses' Gaze, the last, "near", is burning light. In between, the viewer is led through an obscure landscape taken from Kurasawa's Dreams: thick tree stems that morph into panning rows of trunks, finishing in a leveled motion towards a radiant, hyper-realistic sun. Between the two white naughts - absolute fog and absolute light - the viewer experiences a complete incarnation: from the enveloping, tactile proximity of the trees, to the hubristic surge of Icaros.

Enchanting, on the verge of iconic, these partly borrowed, partly fabricated images carry a specific affect: the acute scent of nostalgia. Kurasawa's double-screened images - passed through the mental filter of the dream and the physical filter of the camera - is reinvested in the first-hand experience though technological means: once again, we gain an oneiric stroll in the woods. Our extremities take us back to Angelopoulos' fog, which facilitated a surreal carnival in the midst of war in a snipers' range; the grace of invisibility is also the visual naught as we journey from one blindness to another. Nostalgia, our dominating affect, is itself alluding to the futility of the linear pursuit of an ultimate truth; in this work the elusiveness of final certainties is formed as we hold on to the memory of old truths while reaching for the next one.