Perhaps, the combination of a film image showing a football game with a mixed soundscape – of an air conditioning unit fighting against the heat, a refrigerator joining in this fight, the intrinsic high-pitched buzz of an ageing Korean television set, and, far away in the background, barely perceptible but extremely loud screams – reminds one of Godard. If so, then the filmic disinformation as it occurs in Katarina Löfström’s work, the sign-less, confused, and yet comprehensibly structured interlacing of forms and colours in trance-inducing loops has exactly the opposite effect.

It is not the image that is subjected to an acoustic détournement in Löfström’s films; rather, it is the music that is made visible and thus abducted from its world of darkness. The viewer can see “inside” the music and it seems as if a new way of writing music has been created, analogous to notes, distantly related to a set theory notation that is like music itself, resisting the attempt of description in the very same manner. What Saint Augustine has said about time – that it is intimately known to everyone, though nobody can explain it to anyone else – is equally valid for music in general, and even more so for Löfström’s visual music, in which she allows stripes, bubbles and colours to dance.

(Excerpt from: Carsten Höller, Katarina Löfström, in: GREYSCALE/CMYK, NIFCA, Helsinki, 2002.)