The city is grey; it bathes in the usual muffled roar of traffic, sirens and horns. Among the bushes stiff from the cold, their branches caught in ice, the camera wanders forward. The wandering is restless. The walker will never be seen. Yet his presence is remarkable: his steps, his breathing, and his onomatopoeias reveal it in a sonic close-up. The subjective image closely examines the branches, marks brief pauses, continues on its way, and explores the alleys of this sort of labyrinth. The images in light suspension contrast with the staccato tramping of the footsteps on the frozen snow. Suddenly the walker stops. The camera sweeps over space. It is searching. The picture is slowed down, almost frozen. The stroller - undoubtedly Donigan Cumming - holds his breath. Anxiety peaks. Then the camera moves back. The search resumes, never to end. The anxiety persists, mysterious and penetrating.

Trip is a short fragment of Cumming's work but it is also a metaphor. That of a frantic and, as suggested by the title, hallucinatory search in a maze from a glacial age.

Jean Perret, Visions du réel, 2002 

(translation: Paul Belle)