In ENOLA this shifted perception is multiplied many times over. We see the camera as it sees, we see the visitors to the themepark looking at the world below them as they step carefully between its buildings, we watch the tour guides watching that scene, we see the spaces of the installation, we see the stools which stand mutely before the screen, we see ourselves amidst others watching the screen. At no point do any of these levels of vision refer back to reality, but instead keep us aware of the multiple and material structures of the architectures of the installation. However, this multiplication and fragmentation of the cinema is not only visual. As a sound track, muzac does not adhere to the surfaces of the screen; it does not add to a narrative, or drive the visual loop, but infiltrates and seeps out of the spaces of the room. The simulated muzac ties our viewing bodies into the architectures of the installation, and lingers with us long after we leave. It is through this endlessly repetitive sound track that ENOLA makes a final slip from the grasp of cinema, and becomes a vision machine.