Iceboat starts underwater, a boat made of ice, sinking as it melts; a body spins slowly downwards, only glugs and the sound of air bubbles rising through the water that accompanies the otherwise silent world. After this initial summation of events, she takes you back to the start – an ethereal row across a silvery plane of water that shimmers as it catches the sun, that sometimes is the only movement in a still scene. For the most part however, she rows earnestly, sometimes ecstatically, to a moving soundtrack, knowing it all must end and when it does it’s a sudden upheaval, the back of the boat slips under the surface of the lake just as Choksi is deposited into its underbelly. All this happens at the very edge of the frame; if you turn away for a moment, the moment is missed – the momentary ephemeral made present.
