The Pump

As Scottish poet Ivor Cutler muses, in Jamie Kane's "The Pump": 'Gravity begins at home.' Kane's film grapples with premonition and what you miss when you lose everything. The gaping absence of one’s own house swallowed by nature through a flooded mine shaft is told through a personal account of the events. Objects from the rubble, outside structures and interior details map such loss against the impermanence of possessions. As Scottish poet Ivor Cutler muses, in Jamie Kane's "The Pump": 'Gravity begins at home.' Kane's film grapples with premonition and what you miss when you lose everything. The gaping absence of one’s own house swallowed by nature through a flooded mine shaft is told through a personal account of the events. Objects from the rubble, outside structures and interior details map such loss against the impermanence of possessions. As Scottish poet Ivor Cutler muses, in Jamie Kane's "The Pump": 'Gravity begins at home.' Kane's film grapples with premonition and what you miss when you lose everything. The gaping absence of one’s own house swallowed by nature through a flooded mine shaft is told through a personal account of the events. Objects from the rubble, outside structures and interior details map such loss against the impermanence of possessions. As Scottish poet Ivor Cutler muses, in Jamie Kane's "The Pump": 'Gravity begins at home.' Kane's film grapples with premonition and what you miss when you lose everything. The gaping absence of one’s own house swallowed by nature through a flooded mine shaft is told through a personal account of the events. Objects from the rubble, outside structures and interior details map such loss against the impermanence of possessions.