In 2016 I was working at Zoo Atlanta in their multimedia department. This meant I was doing everything from photo and video work to some light graphics and the occasional basic tech support - by which I mean I spent a lot of time futzing around with monitor or speaker connections pretending like I knew what I was doing and praying to whoever would listen that at some point my random reconnection of wires would have a positive effect.
One of the perks of this job was that when I had some down time, I could stroll through the zoo grounds for a bit. Sometimes I was even able to do so with a camera. I would often use this as a chance to get stills or footage of animals I never got to interact with or document that often - usually the gorillas or the lions/tiger. But one of the species that always intrigued me and kept pulling me back were the Naked Mole Rats.
Some of it was their location and habitat. They reside in a small building tucked in an upper corner of the zoo that’s beyond anything else you’d ever want to see - at that point you have to either pop in and say hi, or turn and head back the way you came. They are next to a small playground and the old reptile house, an abandoned building adorned with inscriptions depicting ancient Egyptians holding asps. This whole area feels vaguely neglected, and so it always appealed to me. Inside the Mole Rat building is a tiny, dark, and cramped space befitting the natural environs of its tenants. One whole wall is made up of a series of interconnected tunnels, all behind glass, through which dozens of the small rodents are constantly making their way.
I’ve always had a strange fascination with, and felt a pull towards, the occupants of tucked away and neglected spaces, be they animate or not. The best illustration I can come up with for this is a box of stuffing, sitting on the bottom shelf of a convenience store that is itself tucked away in a space unaccustomed to regular shoppers, like a subway station - an item that I cannot imagine anyone ever seeing, let alone considering the purchase of. I was once watching a YouTube video in which a laserdisc collector was showing off the contents of a special edition of Schindler’s List, and as he pointed out the soundtrack CD that was contained behind the disk sleeve I felt a sudden rush thinking of that album lying hidden within that box for years, perhaps decades, at a time.
I’m not sure what this is about or where it comes from. It’s not quite claustrophilia, though it seems close to that. Though I also loathe the thought of enclosed spaces. I remain, as ever, a bundle of contradictions.
In any event, it was partly for this reason that I felt such a fascination and affection for what may be some of the most unpleasant-looking creatures on god’s earth (they resemble - and there is just no nice way to say this - penises with overgrown teeth). They existed, and had built up an entire society, within an entire world tucked away into the corner of what was itself a condensed representation of the larger natural world.
A microcosm within a microcosm.
So I took a lot of footage of the Mole Rats. And while my other visual studies have languished on hard drives for the last 8-9 years, I came up with something for them fairly quickly. I cut together the following short film and never really did anything with it - for me at that point the making of it was all I really wanted out of it. This was a point where I hadn’t made much of anything for a while, and this scratched an itch. It was inspired somewhat by the short documentaries of Jean Painlevé but also, I will say, very much inspired by what it felt like to be living in America in the waning days of 2016.
I’m happy to share it here, which is a space that finally feels appropriate. Enjoy it below, or don’t, at your leisure.
-cs