The New Yorker:

Antonin Niclass’s stop-motion short “Do Not Feed the Pigeons” explores what can happen when those who are looking ahead stop to see what’s around them.

Film by Antonin Niclass
Text by Lauren Elyse Garcia 

The director Antonin Niclass has always been drawn to portraying loneliness and ugliness—which is why his latest muse is Victoria Coach Station, a hub of public transportation in London. As someone who recently saw a pack of rats on a subway platform turn their styrofoam-container house into a home, I understood the logic.

“The film is about trying to see beneath the sad and disgusting cold walls of the coach station and find beauty,” Niclass told me, of his stop-motion short “Do Not Feed the Pigeons.” It follows a disparate group of people waiting for a bus that is perpetually delayed in a station that is perpetually filthy, only for them to bear witness to a moment of transcendence that brings them all together, if even for a breath, a beat, an instance. But, before Niclass could make a film about finding the beauty, the transcendence, in a bus station, he would have to search for evidence of it himself. So he and the film’s screenwriter, Vladimir Krasilnikov, followed the siren’s call of Victoria Coach Station and went to observe its comings and goings.

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