ashby blogs shorts program #1
Posted by: Matt McCormick | From: April 27, 2007
This is Ashby Collinson sharing some thoughts on the Shorts Program #1- Eye of the Beholder: Experimental Portraiture. A recent addition to the experimental film internet blogging tribe, I have been a deep fan of Peripheral Produce since it's inception as a teenaged intern in the Northwest Film Center Equipment Room. As a budding media archivist and former teenage experimental filmmaker, I am pleased to relay my thoughts on the festival!
The first film of the series, Der Gruß von Meiner Mutter by Katja Straub struck me as a call to Su Friedrich's amazing documentation of her mother in The Ties That Bind. In this film, Straub recalls her Catholic upbringing, one she reacts to in disbelief. For her, the lessons and stories of the religiosity of her family are strengthened only in connection she has with her ancestors. When we receive a symbolic message from loved ones passed away in the form of a spirit animal, we receive a kind of communication unmatched by the iconic grasp of religious objects or mantras. The stutter and pixilation of the film grounds the experience in tactile relationships akin to Herzog's Land of Silence and Darkness.
Astika by Ben Rivers was the next film, a piece that I wish was a living installation! I absolutely didn't want to leave this zone the second it began; with incredible textures of rock and cement, like a micro/macro world much like our newly coined sister planet Gliese 581. The depiction of overgrowth with red and gold contrast objects injects a richness to the environment this man Astika, a man living on an island in Denmark, lives in. His project has been to let his farmhouse grow over around him, now being forced to move because of his inherent eccentric lifestyle. The kind of overgrowth captured by Rivers is a kind laden with richness, life and magic. The field recordings of the garden and Astika speaking are ambiguous to the point where you can't tell if he's talking about killing himself, or the beauty of the birds who fear his presence. The haptic screen and gorgeous interference of glass and foliage only add to the haunting and rich view of this film. It is a vision of freedom I can't wait to approach in my real life.
Kieu by Kevin T. Allen was perhaps the most difficult for me to relate to, as it was for the subjects. It documents the experience of Vietnamese refugees alienated from their culture on their return "home." The message by the subjects is often negative and suspicious, as the images of the film contradict what they say by lush landscapes and rich woven scenes of activity. We often think of ourselves as assured beings, set in our histories. We would like to think that we can base a face on a place, that what we look like is who we are. When the subjects of the film returned to Vietnam, they saw that the people who had spent their whole lives there were becoming more American and disoriented in much the same way as they had. Shots of flowing time lapse of clouds over mountains in the narratives opens a door of hope and possibility in their experience, in a reconceptualization of being.
My Person in the Water by Leighton Pierce entranced me immediately. It felt like an illustration of the revolutionary Phenomenological text by Maurice Merleau Ponty entitled Eye and Mind. In this essay he recalls a person under water, viewing a tree on the banks from underneath. We often think of our sight being blocked by the water and the limitations of our bodies being under a screen. For Ponty, we are here because of and despite our bodies, and we see the tree on the bank because of the water. That view is not blocked but is there because of our place in the world. This is a reality of filters, of texture and movement. The visceral experience of this film reminded me of being on swim team in fifth grade. I would revel in the space of glubbing and calm between breathes to the surface. It was perhaps my first glimpse at a meditative space. It is a freedom in this foreign yet inscrutable substance that makes up our planet.
Walk by Meg Knowles was an incredible video diary of a woman going through change and the death of her cat. The relationships filmmakers often have with their animals are an important one that ought to be examined further. Knowles is a part of a long line of experimental filmmakers such as Stan Brakhage, Carolee Schneeman and George Kuchar who find inspiration and cinematic beauty in the lives and deep ties they have with their furry family members.
Wood by David Fenster was a surprisingly sincere and dualistic piece on the mill workers of John Day Oregon. His acknowledgment of the lives of the timber workers is unique and appreciative, though not fully overshadowing the shocking reality of the industrialization of forest desecration. There is another angle to this portrait that I had not anticipated, one that touches deeply into the spiritual growth of human beings caught in the paradoxical and destructive environment we are building around themselves. All of these men call upon a deep sense of community based on awareness, collectivity and education. They all must fully trust in each other and watch out for each other in order to stay on track and safe. It is conflicting then when a man talks of the big cat fights between the timber executives and eco activists, who threaten to take away this community of respect and connection.
Hattenhorst by Ove Sander is a wonderful and rich portrait of an old timey projectionist in Germany. As a projectionist myself, I found this film a real treat. The realities of the job are relayed sweetly by this man, who recalls the beauty of autonomy, the holistic and all encompassing knowledge of the entire process of the job, and the sense of importance you have in your absolute control over the audience's experience. As a programmer and projectionist for the Grand Illusion Cinema in Seattle for many years, I have my own sense of nostalgia shared with this man. We had our own rituals and quirky elements to our experience with a job that allows a true embodiment of the magical filmic experience onto our lives. An experience that may soon disappear with the 'advancement' of technology and virtuality of experience.
The Magician's House by Deborah Stratman was a wonderful example of reconceptualizing imagery of normal life into a haunting experience of baroque magic. Normal objects are suddenly laden with mystery and fear, as a rocking chair begins to rock by itself, or whispers on the soundtrack craw up the side of a house, or a bald patch in the grass is suddenly lit by the sun. No corner of your normal and boring life is safe from the possibilities of magic!
That's all for now. Thanks so much to the PDX Fest and Urban Honking for giving me the chance to see some great films and share my thoughts with you.
Ashby Collinson
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nice cred
Posted by: at April 28, 2007 1:50 AM