'I’m not moaning, you don’t hear me moaning!' These are the words spoken by Gladys Morris, the artist’s dead grandmother, that form, along with other snippets of her conversation, the soundscape for moving image artist Andrew Kötting’s latest work 'The Woman of Kent', a short film that acts as an intervention in the cinema space at Kino Digital in Hawkhurst, Kent. The Woman of Kent interrupts the cinematic experience like an explosion. The words of Gladys are laid over tiny sections of archive moving image showing a Kent that no longer exists, edited together at high speed and interspersed with contemporary pinhole stills of the cinema as it is today. The film will be shown exclusively at the Kino, before regular screenings. The audience may notice the accompanying poster designed by Kötting in the foyer, advertising it as ‘remarkably confusing’ and ‘a forgettable classic’, but other than this will receive no indication of what they are about to witness.

Part home movie, part road movie, Kötting's riveting and eccentric film stars his 85-year-old grandmother Gladys - opinionated, bursting with anecdotes and contradictory reminiscences – and Eden, his eight-year-old daughter with Joubert syndrome, as they take a zig-zagging 6,000 mile trip in their campervan around Britain's coastline.

Various characters appear stranded on a beach buried under large piles of their own memorabilia and self-importance.