This doesn't lapse into bleakness though; there's never an instant of despair or doubt. The camera guides us through quotidian labour in the most poetic way. There is a aural overload that adds to narrative sparingness: the squelch of mud, the constant flow of water, the tamping movements of feet, the occasional clip of speech that adds some barebones narrative for the viewer. A haptic world is built outwards from the aural to the visual. Konermann's palette is not merely relegated to the whites and greys of the land. His camera captures every facet of sunlight, sun-darkened skin, worn-out but colourful workman's clothes. There's a whole life that is constructed through the facets that often lie outside of usage within the traditional documentary setting. It makes for an impressionistic documentary that moves outside of the structure of its genre in favour of a more visually reliant and stimulating narrative. While it does not romanticise the intense efforts its subjects, it manages to find beauty and peace there. It's a gripping portrayal of a portion of the world and its people who are rarely given the chance to speak or be seen. For that and more, My Name Is Salt leaves a pleasant aftertaste.
Allie Gemmill | @alliegem