founding day
the image shows men in black suits and hats, and women in white dresses with parasols, standing in an open field before a stone pedestal. they have formed into a dense crowd despite the space. small groups of men and women are in conversation; most of the crowd is facing expectantly towards the pedestal, or turning their heads towards something out of the image. the landscape behind them is indistinct. the rolling fields resolve themselves into a forested mountain ridge. willows and poplars chart the river meandering around its base. beyond that it is impossible to see where the land and sky meet. but it seems to be a sunny day. the stone pedestal, a low rectangle one pace high and several paces in breadth, casts a short shadow on the grass.
the men and women become attentive and the image shifts across to a smaller group on the other side of the pedestal. facing the crowd and with their backs to the iris, each member of this group takes turns speaking or gesturing, then gesturing to the next person to step forward. after each member of this group has had their turn, they start again. they gesture to one another, step back, then, when gestured to, step forward. the crowd is slumping, but for each replacement rouses itself upright and applauds.
finally, the the last person steps back and no one else steps forward. the crowd applauds for a while and then begins to disperse. they look lost, as though they have woken from a dream and found themselves not in the comfortable arcades and cafes of the city, but truly here in this dusty dirty paddock. some mill about the pedestal shaking hands and conversing. the rest walk off in different directions, left, right, towards the iris and out of the image, or receding off into the distance towards the mountain.
the image abruptly shifts to a grassy hill where neither pedestal nor crowd is to be seen. standing in position, the iris turns a complete circle, lasting about a minute and capturing in sequence: a river fringed with willows meandering through the valley from out of a distant fen, a pair of forested mountains connected by a saddle, open fields out to the horizon where three grassy hills are faintly visible, a very close by forested mountain resembling the one seen earlier, a bushy pine tree growing on the hilltop, the low sun momentarily turning everything white and pushing black shadows into the corners, and finally, alternating hills and plains rising into tall hazy peaks - the alps.