Arboretum Cycle

projection booth
Inside Close Up Cinema’s projection booth with one of Dorsky’s reels.

“Above all, cinema is a screen, cinema is a rectangle of light, cinema is light sculpted in time” (Dorsky, Devotional Cinema).

The screening of Nathaniel Dorsky’s Arboretum Cycle at the Close Up Centre in London’s Hoxton was a singular experience. The small auditorium was very dark and almost (two free seats) filled to capacity at 7.30 on a Friday night. We arrived slightly late following a taxing 250 mile journey that, due to the vagaries of satellite navigation and road closures, took us through Piccadilly Circus and Theatreland on the way to our less mainstream entertainment in Shoreditch. We were ushered into the pitch darkness by the charming projectionist. The audience was watching images of foliage in silence which were quite dim at times despite the high spec xenon-lamped projector, meaning one could sense the human presence rather than see it.

instruction sheet
Dorsky’s presentation guidelines

Dorsky has restricted the availability of his films to analogue screenings. The films are 16mm prints of his silent films which must be projected at the ‘silent speed’ of 18fps. The prints had come from LightCone in Paris accompanied by strict guidelines for the screening which specified the films’ order, the brightness of the cinema, that the leaders must be left intact when the three larger reels were made up by the projectionist etc.

The auditorium was very quiet and unusually dark with the fire escape lights providing the only illumination other than the film projection . The audience was as silent as a group of around 100 people could be, there was no projector sound since it was housed in a proper projection box behind glass – unlike most 16mm screenings where an Elf projector is typically squeezed in to the rear of the seating in the auditorium. Images of the arboretum filled the 4:3 screen which had been blanked off to match the aspect ratio: some shadowy, some bright, an occasional shot of intense green beauty, images pulsing as the sun appeared from behind a cloud.

As the film filled the eyes the dislocated sounds of east London permeated the building. The thrum of a police helicopter overhead merged with shots of Californian sky glimpsed through the canopy of leaves. A washing machine somewhere above us in the building proceeded with its own cycles, strangely complementing the on-screen meditation.

Created over 10-month period, the seven-film Arboretum Cycle (2017) is dedicated to the relationship between light, trees, and plants of the Golden Gate Park Arboretum (Now known as the San Francisco Botantical Garden) in San Francisco, within walking distance of the filmmaker’s home. Dorsky began filming in February 2017 and completed editing at the end of December that year. This cycle of seven sections takes in a complete year in the world of light and plants. Not only do we witness the progression of the seasons but also the development of the filmmaking during this year-long exploration of light as life’s energy (2017).

“Silence in cinema is undoubtedly an acquired taste, but the delicacy and intimacy it reveals has many rich rewards. In film, there are two ways of including human beings. One is depicting them. Another is to create a film form which, in itself, has all the qualities of being human: tenderness, observation, fear, curiosity, the sense of stepping into the world, sudden murky disruptions and undercurrents, expansion, pulling back, contraction, relaxation, sublime revelation.” (Dorsky, 2022)

For Dorsky, film has a human quality infused.

https://lightcone.org/en/cineaste-94-nathaniel-dorsky

https://lightcone.org/en/film-11522-arboretum-cycle

Robinson in Ruins

Kayla Parker introduced the screening of Patrick Keiller’s third film featuring the itinerant scholar Robinson, for Peninsula Arts, at Jill Craigie Cinema, Plymouth University in 2011:

“In conversation at Watershed in Bristol earlier this year, Patrick Keiller described how he set out with a camera to find answers to some questions about moving image and the history of settlement in the British landscape. That expedition became the film you’re about to see: an investigation into notions of dwelling, of belonging to the landscape, and an exploration of land ownership in Britain.”

Keiller says he wanted to find out why people are so interested in looking at landscape, and asks: Why do people love looking at a beautiful view? And, to whom does the land belong? The film starts with the conceit that Robinson’s exposed rolls of film were found in an ancient caravan in the countryside. Keiller was thinking of shooting on digital but someone told him he’d become be responsible for the digital data in perpetuity as part of his contractual obligations.

Paolo Cherchi Usai said cinema is self-destructive as projection eventually wears out film prints. He hadn’t tried to resurrect films on old video tape or audio on DAT!

Father-land at NiMAC in October 18

Exhibtion poster over Nimac entrance

Our film will be part of the Layers of Visibility exhibition alongside Ar(t)chaeology in NiMAC from 19/10/18 to 12/01/2019. The ICPT photography conference takes place during the exhibition where we’ll present a paper on Father-land.

The exhibition catalogue and poster has my image looking out from the residency apartment. Professor Liz Wells selected it in part for the connection between the venetian blinds and the Venetian history of the old city.

Missing Derek in The Scott Building

The final frame looking towards the power stations

I screened Missing Derek in the Scott 102 at Plymouth University. The 5-hour film played on a loop. When working in Kent in the 80s and 90s I was transported along A-roads and motorways across the width of England. After the quiet frenzy of getting ready to leave – both personal gear and the filming kit – you would settle into a ‘zone’ as the miles and hours rolled by in the crew bus. As we were physically transported over 300 miles one was also mentally transported by the ever-changing vista through the windscreen of the VW Transporter van.

The experience of motorway driving is similar to cinema, in that you have a fixed frame within which there is action – or the lack of it – but the sensorial experience is largely visual, as you are separated from the ‘outside’ within the vehicle, and the environment is perceived through the pane as images – like watching a film.

Robert Shaller

A screening and talk at Plymouth University, Robert Shaller had brought 16mm prints and some of his homemade 16mm cameras. Shaller was Stan Brakhage’s projectionist in Boulder, Colorado, USA. He visited to talk about his projects that explore the representation of landscape, projecting examples of his work from 16mm film. Marcy Saude kindly brought her projector as ours all have ‘issues’ and the university has none that are working.

Robert Shaller building an optical device.

The films were great and his low-tech cameras – one made from empty Kodak 16mm film boxes – caught the imagination of the audience. His devotion to the materiality of film was inspirational.

The event info:
Robert Schaller the renowned American film-maker and founder of the Handmade Film Institute in Colorado, USA, will be here on Tuesday and Wednesday to talk about his projects that explore the representation of landscape, and will be using a 16mm film projector to screen examples of his work.

Wednesday 9 May 4.30pm > 6.00pm
Room 102 Scott Building, University of Plymouth

About the artist:
For more than twenty years, Robert Schaller has been making films that are fundamentally concerned with two essential aspects of film-making: the materiality of the film medium itself, and the creation of ‘visual music’ through applying the formal structures of music to film-making.

His approach is based on the fact that film, consisting merely of a transparent strip of plastic that can be held in the hand and seen with an unaided eye, is accessible to the artist in a direct and tactile way. He has been a pioneer in re-envisioning the industrial model of celluloid film-making into an embodied human-scale practice for the individual artist who seeks greater control of the means of artistic production.

His is an anti-consumer world of film-making in which the work of creating and re-conceiving the materials, tools, and methods of the medium on a personal non-industrial scale is as essential to the art as are the images light casts on a screen after passing through it.

http://www.robertschaller.org
http://www.handmadefilm.org

Derek Jarman: Brutal Beauty

Brutal_Beauty

It’s ten years since we made a special trip to London to see the Serpentine exhibition which was curated by artist filmmaker Isaac Julien. There were several spaces in use: Blue was running in one room, Jarman’s paintings along some walls, some photos of Dungeness and a room with multiple projections of Super 8 loops. We sat on bean bags and saw some familiar work like the mirror plays from the Thameside flat, others were new to me. I had seen some of the material in the compilation work Glitterbug which was broadcast as an episode of Arena on BBC2 one evening. A gallery attendant stopped us filming the installation after a few minutes. It was lovely to see the work with Jarman’s sonorous voice filtering through from Blue.

The looped Super 8 in the gallery was a particular experience, perhaps not wholly satisfying. The screens were at different heights and sizes and for me the overall experience was engaging rather than anything more profound. I wouldn’t go as far as to say it trivialised the work but there wasn’t the engagement or immersion I would have appreciated.

I think I first encountered Jarman’s work (that is his personal cinema’ rather than his features) in a touring programme by the Arts Council which came to Plymouth Arts Centre cinema. I remember being struck by Gerald’s Film which was slowed down, with the frame-rate maybe 3fps on screen, although presumably projected via a 16mm blow-up.

Jarman described the origins of his Super 8 practice as being the home movies his father shot, then being an early adopter of Super 8 when he was loaned a camera. This was a personal practice that ran alongside his professional work as a designer for Ken Russell’s The Devils and for the ballet. Also, he was a painter, writer and gardener.

Over the years I did also see his features in the cinema: Jubilee, Caravaggio, The Tempest etc. I remember going from the Arts Centre down to the Minerva for a few well-earned pints after the The Last of England.

Amnesialand

Amnesialand, approx 22 min

Stefanos Tsivopoulos

Part of The Presence of Absence, or the Catastrophe Theory

https://nimac.org.cy/the-presence-of-absence-or-the-catastrophe-theory/

Mixed BW and colour archive film with contemporary footage

No diegetic sound, just high-quality voiceover interspersed with silence – three voices, one female. The shots of the landscape appear to be shot on colour Super 16 although grainless as projected there is a subtle but evident weave. Projection from Blu-ray with mpeg gop stuttering particularly on shots with sea in the upper frames.

I sat in NiMAC’s auditorium (where we hope to screen Father-land) watching the film. The clear narration filled the space. “We do not remember, we rewrite memory as much as history is rewritten.” (Chris Marker, Sans Soleil, 1982)

“Stefanos Tsivopoulos takes a photographic collection found in the public archives of the port city Cartagena as starting point for a poetic investigation on the questions of memory and forgetting, on the role that images play in the construction of history, and their relation to reality and historic truth.”

Compare with anamnesis.

anamnesis, a recalling to mind, or reminiscence. Anamnesis is often used as a narrative technique in fiction and poetry as well as in memoirs and autobiographies. A notable example is Marcel Proust’s anamnesis brought on by the taste of a madeleine in the first volume of Remembrance of Things Past (1913–27). The word is from the Greek anámnēsis, “to recall or remember.”

Essay Film Festival

I attended the Birkbeck Essay Film Festival this weekend in order to gain insights into the essay film and to further my understanding of current academic perspectives of this ‘genre’ of filmmaking, which I propose to use to present my research findings.

Although the festival featured many examples of the audiovisual essay – a video lecture incorporating illustrative moving image extracts – the Festival of (In)Appropriation programme of experimental works created from appropriated archive footage resonated with my own approach and interests. This “showcase of contemporary, short audiovisual works that repurpose existing film, video, or other media in inventive ways” (Essay Film Festival, 2016) curated by Jaimie Baron proved to be something of a breakthrough. The works in the programme were exploratory and experimental in form, in contrast to the audiovisual essays, which functioned as self contained pedagogic packages for audience consumption. For me, as a filmmaker, the essential difference is that the author of the audiovisual essay occupies a position ‘outside’ their subject, whereas the essay film author speaks from a position of practice from within the work.

Held at Birkbeck Cinema, University of London, from 17 to 24 March 2016

Seeing Carol

Super 16 viewfinder

I saw Carol at Plymouth Art Centre cinema sat in the centre of the front row. The auditorium in Looe Street is quite small, and the 2pm matinee screening was almost completely sold out with the venue’s fairly senior regular clientele. I wouldn’t normally sit in the front seats as the screen is quite close (maybe 4m?) but today it worked out perfectly. The visual experience was intense at such close range, the image grain was almost tangible.

Richard Brody compares the sensory affects of viewing Carol (Haynes, 2015), directed by Todd Haynes – which was shot on grainy Super 16mm film – once from the rear of the auditorium then a second time close enough to the screen in the cinema to visually experience the grain structure of the image: “They’re not effects of the actors’ skin but of its appearance on the second skin of the film stock (the French word for “film” is “pellicule,” meaning little skin) which lends the actors’ theatricalized immobility an illusion of shivers” (2015). These medium specific qualia (the experience of the projected grain images) are an example of ‘haptic visuality’ – a method of sensory analysis which is located in the viewer’s body, although it does not depend on the presence of literal touch, smell, taste or hearing. It is a concept of embodied spectatorship that situates the phenomenology of cinematic experience as synaesthetic and interactive: an exchange between two bodies.

Although the film was shot on Super 16 it went through the DI (digital intermediate) process in postproduction and was projected from a DCP. Adding grain in postproduction is common both for a ‘film look’ and also to reduce banding when using 8-bit for delivery – the latter not relevant for cinema workflows. I wonder whether shooting on a Super 16 crop of a digital sensor and using the same lenses to match the Arri 416 film camera, then adding grain in postproduction would produce a discernible difference?

http://www.newyorker.com/culture/richard-brody/carol-up-close [Accessed 9 December 2015].

Jem Cohen – A Day in the Lives

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IMG_2648-2015-10-31-12-36.jpg

Close Up Film Centre, Hoxton, London

https://www.closeupfilmcentre.com/film_programmes/2015/jem-cohen-a-day-in-the-lives/

Nineteen Hopes for an Activist Cinema

By  Jem Cohen

buried-in-light.jpg

1. That it tells me something I don’t know and questions as much as it answers.

2. That it holds a mirror to the broken world.

3. That it takes a new shape, somehow unlike that of the movies before it, especially those within its own genre.

4. That it not dehumanise or take cheap shots.

5. That it comes as a shock, even if the shock is that of discomfort or joy.

6. That it not look like a music video, or smell like an advertisement.

7. That it is somehow mysterious, ambiguous, strange.

8. That it is somehow funny.

9. That it inspires me to rage.

10. That it inspires me towards peace.

11. That it not be guided by the Hollywood Commandments (Film as a Business, Movies as Commodities, Worship of Celebrity and Spectacle, Life in three Predictable Acts).

12. That it is more than propaganda.

13. That it avoids sentimentality.

14. That it speaks truth to power.

15. That it speaks truth to the powerless.

16. That it picks at the scabs of history.

17. That it makes me want to get to work.

18. That it strives for honesty.

19. That it blows my mind.


Jem Cohen is a filmmaker. This text is taken from the programme for his festival Fusebox, at Ghent in 2005.Vertigo Volume 3 | Issue 3 | Autumn 2006