Okay, what's the skinny? Over on the nominations thread for The Promontory 100 (or whatever it ends up being called), Doug suggested that we consider Stan Brakhage's shorts. It seemed in questionable taste to me, as no other director's underwear is being contemplated, but Leary and stef and other Chicagoans have in the past identified themselves as Brakhage "fan boys" and, at the risk of exposing The Prom to public scandal, I ask "What the heck?"
Who is this guy? The Windy City Norman McLaren? So he paints on film - big deal! What's that got to do with God, anyhow? (He did move to British Columbia for the last year of his life, so that points to a certain spiritual acuity, but I mean besides that....)
Enlighten us.
Full Version: Stan Brakhage
Oh man, wish I had time to respond in depth to this. Hold that thought for a week.
Brakhage is really important because he was one of the first to identify that the growth of the information age tapped film as a metaphysic. Film isn't just the "seventh art," it also is directly tied into the way we act in culture and percieve the historicity of images. I guess I wouldn't argue too strongly for putting Brakhage on the Promontory list, I would want to go with someone like Deren or maybe even Cocteau with the trilogy, someone a little less intentionally on the fringe.
Here may be a helpful analogy: Brakhage's work is to Film as Pascal's Pensees is to theological literature. A collection of pithy moments in which one comes into contact with the raw spirit of the discipline. Here are the most elevated, lofty concerns spoken in the simple and passionate language of the true seeker.
Brakhage is really important because he was one of the first to identify that the growth of the information age tapped film as a metaphysic. Film isn't just the "seventh art," it also is directly tied into the way we act in culture and percieve the historicity of images. I guess I wouldn't argue too strongly for putting Brakhage on the Promontory list, I would want to go with someone like Deren or maybe even Cocteau with the trilogy, someone a little less intentionally on the fringe.
Here may be a helpful analogy: Brakhage's work is to Film as Pascal's Pensees is to theological literature. A collection of pithy moments in which one comes into contact with the raw spirit of the discipline. Here are the most elevated, lofty concerns spoken in the simple and passionate language of the true seeker.
Hmmm. I am by no means a Brakhage "fan boy," i've seen Dog Star Man but that's about it. I'm curious to see more, but i think you have me confused with someone else.
Leary is out of town, or is at least leaving town, so if this thread starts to sink i would suggest resurrecting it in a week or so.
-s.
Leary is out of town, or is at least leaving town, so if this thread starts to sink i would suggest resurrecting it in a week or so.
-s.
Heh, he obviously hasn't left yet. GET OUT OF HERE!!
-s.
-s.
In short, Brakhage is a giant in the history of experimental cinema, renowned and respected the world over. He was also a very spiritual fellow:
Account of Brakhage's funeral on 3/14/03 in Victoria, BC, by Phil Solomon
"In the last days of his life, Stan had befriended Rev.Dr.David Rolfe, the rector at the Church of the Advent, Anglican Church of Canada. Rev. Rolfe would visit him at home and in the hospital during the last weeks, and they would engage in discussions about spiritual issues whenever possible. I think it was of some real comfort to Stan in his last, terribly difficult days. It should be no surprise to those that knew him and his work, that Stan would have requested a traditional Christian service. Though he did not 'practice', I believe that Stan always identified himself as a Christian, as long as I have known him — that he was, in his way, as a man of 'faith' — and many of his films reflect his spiritual sense of devotion, particularly Untitled (For Marilyn), the Chartres Series, the Jesus Trilogy and Coda, and most powerfully for me, Passage Through: A Ritual.
The funeral was at The Church of Saint Mary, the Virgin, Parish of Oak Bay, which was literally at the end of Stan's block (Milton street, no less...). The day before the funeral, the weather was so rough and the seas so heavy that my ferry from Seattle had to be canceled. It took me ten hours to get from Seattle to Victoria by an alternative route, and the rains and winds remained foreboding throughout the day. But the morning of Stan's funeral was simply beautiful, as the clouds parted to reveal a sun that I had never seen on that island during my last visit at the beginning of February. It was glorious, a spring day ahead of schedule. The next day was beautiful as well."
Account of Brakhage's funeral on 3/14/03 in Victoria, BC, by Phil Solomon
"In the last days of his life, Stan had befriended Rev.Dr.David Rolfe, the rector at the Church of the Advent, Anglican Church of Canada. Rev. Rolfe would visit him at home and in the hospital during the last weeks, and they would engage in discussions about spiritual issues whenever possible. I think it was of some real comfort to Stan in his last, terribly difficult days. It should be no surprise to those that knew him and his work, that Stan would have requested a traditional Christian service. Though he did not 'practice', I believe that Stan always identified himself as a Christian, as long as I have known him — that he was, in his way, as a man of 'faith' — and many of his films reflect his spiritual sense of devotion, particularly Untitled (For Marilyn), the Chartres Series, the Jesus Trilogy and Coda, and most powerfully for me, Passage Through: A Ritual.
The funeral was at The Church of Saint Mary, the Virgin, Parish of Oak Bay, which was literally at the end of Stan's block (Milton street, no less...). The day before the funeral, the weather was so rough and the seas so heavy that my ferry from Seattle had to be canceled. It took me ten hours to get from Seattle to Victoria by an alternative route, and the rains and winds remained foreboding throughout the day. But the morning of Stan's funeral was simply beautiful, as the clouds parted to reveal a sun that I had never seen on that island during my last visit at the beginning of February. It was glorious, a spring day ahead of schedule. The next day was beautiful as well."
I am a Brakhage admirer but I would question his placement on this list. Although I think we could impose spiritual themes to his experimental work, I have yet to see the Jesus Trilogy (can't get my hands on it) which may aid in "spiritualizing" Brakhage's work. However, I do find that the way he ties his images together creates a kind of - humans are so small in this huge metaphysical world - type of feeling.
jroberts - were you part of the Stan Brakhage night at the college? If so, will they bring that back or was it a "passing through" type of exhibition?
I cannot speak for Deren but I owuld agree with (M) about Cocteau if indeed any experimental, abstract, avantgarde filmmakers make the list.
jroberts - were you part of the Stan Brakhage night at the college? If so, will they bring that back or was it a "passing through" type of exhibition?
I cannot speak for Deren but I owuld agree with (M) about Cocteau if indeed any experimental, abstract, avantgarde filmmakers make the list.
I'm really amazed by the hesitancy to include Brakhage here, a Christian filmmaker of universal acclaim who made extremely worshipful films: hand-painted images of Chartres Cathedral or meditations on Christ or a film with the words "Praise Be/to God" scratched on the celluloid itself. I didn't say all Christians should see all of his films, some would certainly object to some of his content, but his work is artistically and spiritually very significant.
His widow, Marylin, wrote this in his death announcement last year:
In his well known Metaphors on Vision of 1963, Stan had written of film artists creating "where fear before them has created the greatest necessity," and that "They are essentially preoccupied by and deal imagistically with — birth, sex, death, and the search for God." Speaking recently of his life, he stated that most of all he had wanted to GIVE something to people — through the arts, through music and painting. He said, "I wanted to give them God."
His widow, Marylin, wrote this in his death announcement last year:
In his well known Metaphors on Vision of 1963, Stan had written of film artists creating "where fear before them has created the greatest necessity," and that "They are essentially preoccupied by and deal imagistically with — birth, sex, death, and the search for God." Speaking recently of his life, he stated that most of all he had wanted to GIVE something to people — through the arts, through music and painting. He said, "I wanted to give them God."
(Incidentally, Brakhage made close to 400 films, so the possibility of anyone seeing all of them is quite unlikely anyway.)
Can't say I know his work, but from your description, Doug, it sounds like he deserves inclusion.
| QUOTE |
| \"through the arts, through music and painting. He said, \"I wanted to give them God.\" |
I am also a bit cynical and not knowing the life of Brakhage the above comment could be more of a mystical, new age kind of comment meaning he wanted to help people find their God or concept of a god.
I do not know whether Stan Brakhage was a follower of Christ or not but beautifully painted films, Cathedral images, and other visuals do not immmediately testify of one's salvation. And even if they did I do not see that as instant inclusion. There are many films that were not made by Christians that will certainly (hopefully) be included in this list. If it is a visually stunning, or visually significant, film then it should be included viewing for a Chrisitan. Maybe it will aid in the appreciation of artists and their art.
I am only going by what I know of his work and based on that small amount of knowledge I would not have suggested Brakhage. I am absolutely fine with another's request to include him and specific pieces of his work.
| QUOTE |
| his work is artistically and spiritually very significant. |
You definitely have more intimate knowledge of his work and I respect your opinion. The above comment has only made me want to see more Brakhage.
| QUOTE |
| I do not know whether Stan Brakhage was a follower of Christ or not but beautifully painted films, Cathedral images, and other visuals do not immmediately testify of one's salvation. |
No, they don't, but I take people at their word. If they claim to be a Christian and their friends and widow affirm that in unambiguous terms, I'm not going to argue with it. It's not for me to judge.
| QUOTE |
| If it is a visually stunning, or visually significant, film then it should be included viewing for a Chrisitan. Maybe it will aid in the appreciation of artists and their art. |
Then what you want is the Sight & Sound poll or a good book on film history. Despite the obvious inclusion of some titles which are merely the personal favorites of various people, my impression was that there was something intrinsically "Christian" intended about the list, ie., the films were made by Christians or dealt with Christian themes and subjects in a notable fashion. All of Brakhage's film fit the first criterion, some fit the second, depending on how narrow the definition is. Certainly both criteria fit Brakhage more than Cocteau. Although the latter did make beautiful and meaningful films, I'm not aware that he ever claimed to be a man of faith or that he ever made films of unabashed worship like Brakhage did.
Maybe I should clarify that when I wrote "some of Stan Brakhage's films," I didn't mean a random sampling of his work, but specific films like Passage Through: A Ritual (1990), the Chartres Series (1994), and Untitled (for Marilyn) (1992), all of which I've seen, and other works like the Jesus Trilogy and Coda, which I've only read about.
I think Christians should be encouraged to look into the work of such a renowned filmmaker in order to a) experience the work--I found it very spiritually moving,
respond to the many commentaries on the spiritual nature of it, and c) because he claimed to be a Christian artist. I don't think Brakhage should be overlooked or dismissed simply because he worked in the avant-garde. He should be embraced in precisely the same terms many Christians have apparently endorsed Mel Gibson.
When I saw the films mentioned above here in L.A. (with none other than Kenneth Anger in attendance), the dean of CalArts' film school, Steve Anker, stopped the screenings to read Brakhage's favorite passage from 1 Corinthians 3--the same passage Anker had read at the funeral:
"I planted the seed, Apollos watered it, but God made it grow. So neither he who plants nor he who waters is anything, but only God, who makes things grow. The man who plants and the man who waters have one purpose, and each will be rewarded according to his own labor. For we are God's fellow workers; you are God's field, God's building.
By the grace God has given me, I laid a foundation as an expert builder, and someone else is building on it. But each one should be careful how he builds. For no one can lay any foundation other than the one already laid, which is Jesus Christ. If any man builds on this foundation using gold, silver, costly stones, wood, hay or straw, his work will be shown for what it is, because the Day will bring it to light. It will be revealed with fire, and the fire will test the quality of each man's work."
For a filmmaker who made a movie out of moth wings, the idea of building on a foundation with unique materials is quite touching.
The hardcore experimental cinephile audience sat in respectful silence throughout. It was certainly one of the more worshipful screenings I have attended in years.
I think Christians should be encouraged to look into the work of such a renowned filmmaker in order to a) experience the work--I found it very spiritually moving,
respond to the many commentaries on the spiritual nature of it, and c) because he claimed to be a Christian artist. I don't think Brakhage should be overlooked or dismissed simply because he worked in the avant-garde. He should be embraced in precisely the same terms many Christians have apparently endorsed Mel Gibson.
When I saw the films mentioned above here in L.A. (with none other than Kenneth Anger in attendance), the dean of CalArts' film school, Steve Anker, stopped the screenings to read Brakhage's favorite passage from 1 Corinthians 3--the same passage Anker had read at the funeral:
"I planted the seed, Apollos watered it, but God made it grow. So neither he who plants nor he who waters is anything, but only God, who makes things grow. The man who plants and the man who waters have one purpose, and each will be rewarded according to his own labor. For we are God's fellow workers; you are God's field, God's building.
By the grace God has given me, I laid a foundation as an expert builder, and someone else is building on it. But each one should be careful how he builds. For no one can lay any foundation other than the one already laid, which is Jesus Christ. If any man builds on this foundation using gold, silver, costly stones, wood, hay or straw, his work will be shown for what it is, because the Day will bring it to light. It will be revealed with fire, and the fire will test the quality of each man's work."
For a filmmaker who made a movie out of moth wings, the idea of building on a foundation with unique materials is quite touching.
The hardcore experimental cinephile audience sat in respectful silence throughout. It was certainly one of the more worshipful screenings I have attended in years.
"The Jesus Trilogy and Coda is driven by tensions between movement and stillness, depth and flatness. Many images are visible just long enough to seem stills but also contribute to the film's rhythmic flow, as patterns transform or collide with others. Skeins of lines and splashes of color create depth effects that suddenly yield to flatness. These oppositions, perceived as irresolvable paradoxes, prevent the imagery from becoming decorative or static, locating it as much in the viewer's mind as on the screen.
Colors glow with an inner light as if alive and at times seem translucent, with others shining through them; then, suddenly, they become more solid, like a relief map. These transitions, experienced as a vibration between solidity and transparence, lie within a long tradition of depicting Christ as both deity and human, spirit and flesh; Brakhage's is one of the most lucid articulations of the idea ever.
In the last of the four, Christ on Cross, Brakhage's multiple lines unexpectedly converge into a vertical pattern, then a horizontal one, several times. Soon there are fleeting glimpses of a cross, standing as a kind of essence behind all the patterns we've seen — a moment that will doubtless disturb those who admire Brakhage's efforts to free cinema's imaginative potential yet refuse to accept his films' spiritual, even devotional aspects. The Jesus Trilogy and Coda recalled for me the huge, spectacular Tintoretto Crucifixion in the Scuola Grande di San Rocco in Venice: a glowing Christ in the top center is a surprisingly tentative presence, powerful only by contrast to the chaos around and below him."
--Fred Camper
Colors glow with an inner light as if alive and at times seem translucent, with others shining through them; then, suddenly, they become more solid, like a relief map. These transitions, experienced as a vibration between solidity and transparence, lie within a long tradition of depicting Christ as both deity and human, spirit and flesh; Brakhage's is one of the most lucid articulations of the idea ever.
In the last of the four, Christ on Cross, Brakhage's multiple lines unexpectedly converge into a vertical pattern, then a horizontal one, several times. Soon there are fleeting glimpses of a cross, standing as a kind of essence behind all the patterns we've seen — a moment that will doubtless disturb those who admire Brakhage's efforts to free cinema's imaginative potential yet refuse to accept his films' spiritual, even devotional aspects. The Jesus Trilogy and Coda recalled for me the huge, spectacular Tintoretto Crucifixion in the Scuola Grande di San Rocco in Venice: a glowing Christ in the top center is a surprisingly tentative presence, powerful only by contrast to the chaos around and below him."
--Fred Camper
Ron wrote:
: Doug suggested that we consider Stan Brakhage's shorts. It seemed in
: questionable taste to me, as no other director's underwear is being
: contemplated . . .
And you say this in a thread, the title of which uses the abbreviated form of "bumfodder" -- you cheeky devil, you.
asher wrote:
: I do not know whether Stan Brakhage was a follower of Christ or not but
: beautifully painted films, Cathedral images, and other visuals do not
: immmediately testify of one's salvation.
I don't think Brakhage's salvation or lack thereof is relevant at all. We are recommending FILMS, not filmMAKERS. And even if we WERE recommending filmmakers, we are hardly trying to recommend them based on what we perceive their spiritual status to be.
Doug C wrote:
: He should be embraced in precisely the same terms many Christians
: have apparently endorsed Mel Gibson.
Well ain't THAT the kiss of death.
: The hardcore experimental cinephile audience sat in respectful silence
: throughout.
Do hardcore experimental cinephiles normally talk during movies, then?
: Doug suggested that we consider Stan Brakhage's shorts. It seemed in
: questionable taste to me, as no other director's underwear is being
: contemplated . . .
And you say this in a thread, the title of which uses the abbreviated form of "bumfodder" -- you cheeky devil, you.
asher wrote:
: I do not know whether Stan Brakhage was a follower of Christ or not but
: beautifully painted films, Cathedral images, and other visuals do not
: immmediately testify of one's salvation.
I don't think Brakhage's salvation or lack thereof is relevant at all. We are recommending FILMS, not filmMAKERS. And even if we WERE recommending filmmakers, we are hardly trying to recommend them based on what we perceive their spiritual status to be.
Doug C wrote:
: He should be embraced in precisely the same terms many Christians
: have apparently endorsed Mel Gibson.
Well ain't THAT the kiss of death.
: The hardcore experimental cinephile audience sat in respectful silence
: throughout.
Do hardcore experimental cinephiles normally talk during movies, then?
| QUOTE |
| I'm really amazed by the hesitancy to include Brakhage here, a Christian filmmaker of universal acclaim who made extremely worshipful films: hand-painted images of Chartres Cathedral or meditations on Christ or a film with the words \"Praise Be/to God\" scratched on the celluloid itself. |
I emphatically agree with taking this tack on watching Brakhage. I have been trying to write up a little piece on his "Christian" films for about a year now. Too hard, he really is very hard to write about without your copy coming across like a blustery, fluttery catalog introduction for a Kiefer exhibition. But it is worth trying to write about the guy, I have had some intense theological experiences in the midst of some of his handpainted pieces, especially the Praise Be/To God piece. Right there I had the sensation of hearing trees clapping and rocks shouting when that slithered into the background of the film.
But, my only caveat is that I don't think he belongs on a Promontory list at all. Brakhage really works out of a network of thought that doesn't play a role here in discussion very often, if at all. His approach to film doesn't seem to fit well into the tacit paradigm that is work in what films we tend to talk about here and how we talk about them. He just doesn't fit in very well.
I guess that is why I would lean towards Cocteau or someone like that. A director that more people in the "Promontory" arena watch and discuss. Just seems more practical in this sense to leave Brakhage off the list. As I write this I realize how lame it sounds, considering Brakhage's signficance. But there is only 100 slots, might as well fill them up with things people can actually get thier hands on.
| QUOTE |
| But, my only caveat is that I don't think he belongs on a Promontory list at all. Brakhage really works out of a network of thought that doesn't play a role here in discussion very often, if at all. His approach to film doesn't seem to fit well into the tacit paradigm that is work in what films we tend to talk about here and how we talk about them. He just doesn't fit in very well. |
I see. Well, I guess one purpose of any critical list is to encourage viewers to break out of their usual viewing habits and engage works they may not have thought about already. Obviously, Brakhage is not a hot topic around here...but he should be.
Where should a Brakhage neophyte (or, more accurately, know-nothing) start? Is the Criterion set representative or recommended? Is there much else out on video release? Am I at the mercy of festivals and retrospectives?
Doug C wrote:
: Well, I guess one purpose of any critical list is to encourage viewers to
: break out of their usual viewing habits and engage works they may not
: have thought about already.
Yes, you might say it is to encourage other viewers to develop the viewing habits of the people who made the list. And since the Promontory 101 list is all about films that we would recommend to others, rather than films that we think might be recommended to us ...
: Well, I guess one purpose of any critical list is to encourage viewers to
: break out of their usual viewing habits and engage works they may not
: have thought about already.
Yes, you might say it is to encourage other viewers to develop the viewing habits of the people who made the list. And since the Promontory 101 list is all about films that we would recommend to others, rather than films that we think might be recommended to us ...
| QUOTE |
| Where should a Brakhage neophyte (or, more accurately, know-nothing) start? Is the Criterion set representative or recommended? Is there much else out on video release? Am I at the mercy of festivals and retrospectives? |
The Criterion set is preternaturally representative. And it comes stacked with all sorts of Brakhage's own commentary on his own work. It is a rather remarkable set, and even if you know nothing about the guy the DVD will find a welcome place on your shelf. I have only seen about a dozen things by Brakhage that aren't on the discs and feel familiar enough with his work.
The best thing about the discs is that they give you a keen sense of what is going on in his films. Something like Dogstar... is really tough to figure out, but the Criterion set will give you enough background to make sense of it. If you do pick up the discs, spend some time at Fred Camper's Brakhage site to get some background.
Yeah Russell, the Criterion DVD is amazing--beautifully transferred frame-by-frame, with commentary by Brakhage and Fred Camper, reigning Brakhage scholar and sometimes Chicago Reader critic.
But do be warned--some of Brakhage's films are very intense, graphically incorporating nudity, childbirth, autopsies, etc. I haven't even completely made it through the whole DVD collection myself, and I'm not sure I will. But his work is widely regarded as being a genuine search for truth and transcendence and artistic discovery, not merely a source of sensationalism or titillation. All of his work is definitely not for everyone, but some of his work certainly could be.
If you can rent the collection and selectively watch a few of the films (like the aforementioned Untitled (for Marilyn)), I'd definitely recommend it. Otherwise, yeah, you'll have to catch a film exhibition somewhere.
But do be warned--some of Brakhage's films are very intense, graphically incorporating nudity, childbirth, autopsies, etc. I haven't even completely made it through the whole DVD collection myself, and I'm not sure I will. But his work is widely regarded as being a genuine search for truth and transcendence and artistic discovery, not merely a source of sensationalism or titillation. All of his work is definitely not for everyone, but some of his work certainly could be.
If you can rent the collection and selectively watch a few of the films (like the aforementioned Untitled (for Marilyn)), I'd definitely recommend it. Otherwise, yeah, you'll have to catch a film exhibition somewhere.
Thanks, guys. I'll look into that set, and I hope I'll have an opportunity to discuss it with you two in July.
Followed by a lengthy discussion on The Thing With Two Heads, which was an utterly remarkable hunk of cinema.
"[U]tterly remarkable." That might be the best non-substantive phrase I've heard all year!
I will look forward to it.
I will look forward to it.
Just returned from the Greatest Christmas of my Life, but leafing through the thread I am reminded that my best buds are here and that I've really missed being able to pay attention to the boards as much as I once did. My education has gotten the best of me. I'd like to report in a little more often: one of the reasons Christmas was personally so good (one of many reasons) is that my parents gave me the Brakhage Criterion Collection as a present. I am sure they don't even know who Brakhage is, but I was actually entertaining the notion of somehow naming my (approaching) son after Brakhage, so I guess they realized I really do love this artist's work.
I'd like to keep this thread alive and eventually make it through the collection. In the meantime, does anyone know where the thread was in which I went Nuts Over Stan Brakhage? IIRC, I posted at A&F regarding Wedlock House: An Intercourse and The Act of Seeing With One's Own Eyes, posts that were most likely smeared with awe at what I'd just encountered. I've been paging through different Brakhage threads and can't seem to locate those old posts...
My goal was to keep this as the open Brakhage thread but link to the other one in which I fell in love with his works. I think the original question Ron asked can be probed more in depth -- it's something I'd like to consider and really take on over the next few months.
Invisible Man came close to asking about this, too, in the recent Rosetta thread. What makes a film spiritual other than our own personal connection to it? It really is hard to come to a decent, absolute answer to this question. I nominated The Act of Seeing With One's Own Eyes last year, and stand by that nomination today. I still don't see how we cannot include Brakhage somewhere on the list. I hope to further probe the issues here; I can't think of a better place to discuss this.
-s.
I'd like to keep this thread alive and eventually make it through the collection. In the meantime, does anyone know where the thread was in which I went Nuts Over Stan Brakhage? IIRC, I posted at A&F regarding Wedlock House: An Intercourse and The Act of Seeing With One's Own Eyes, posts that were most likely smeared with awe at what I'd just encountered. I've been paging through different Brakhage threads and can't seem to locate those old posts...
My goal was to keep this as the open Brakhage thread but link to the other one in which I fell in love with his works. I think the original question Ron asked can be probed more in depth -- it's something I'd like to consider and really take on over the next few months.
Invisible Man came close to asking about this, too, in the recent Rosetta thread. What makes a film spiritual other than our own personal connection to it? It really is hard to come to a decent, absolute answer to this question. I nominated The Act of Seeing With One's Own Eyes last year, and stand by that nomination today. I still don't see how we cannot include Brakhage somewhere on the list. I hope to further probe the issues here; I can't think of a better place to discuss this.
-s.
Let's keep an ongoing Brakhage discussion open. I don't know if it should be this thread and title but there should definitely be one.
Shortly after this thread began, almost 2 years ago, I picked up a copy of the Brakhage Collection. I have been mesmerized by the images Brakhage has created. They can easily be as worshipful as a piece of music written only to stir the heart in praise to God. I have become weepy and had moments of epiphany while watching some of the hand-painted pieces.
Shortly after this thread began, almost 2 years ago, I picked up a copy of the Brakhage Collection. I have been mesmerized by the images Brakhage has created. They can easily be as worshipful as a piece of music written only to stir the heart in praise to God. I have become weepy and had moments of epiphany while watching some of the hand-painted pieces.
I am with you. Pick a short and lets dig into it. It will be a mini film-club right here in this thread.
Here are my picks to begin with, Kindering and Eye Myth.
Due to the non-narrative structure, any of the selections are going to make for a interesting discussion but Kindering really took me in.
Due to the non-narrative structure, any of the selections are going to make for a interesting discussion but Kindering really took me in.
Kindering. Deal. I will watch it over the weekend (and Eye Myth is one of my favorites of his).
Eye Myth is amazing. There is so much presented in only 9 seconds, of course the viewer brings a lot to Brakhage.
I will rewatch both of these tonight.
Eyemyth is an amazing work if only because it took a year for Brakhage to create it but clocks in at a speedy nine seconds of wonder.
It is a silent film.
The idea, if I can properly understand it, was that he would create a myth without the use of language, a myth born purely of our own perceptions. I don't really know if this is possible or not, but one comprehends the abstracted pictures a whole lot better when still frames are shown rather than the movie. I've opted not to post any images because viewing a still might actually taint one's viewing of the film as a whole. If one wants to find stills, though, they are easily found in a google search or at Fred Camper's site.
I guess one question I have even before I watch Eyemyth again is: Can there be a myth without a story? Or, does a narrative need words to still speak to us?
I watched Eyemyth at least ten times the first time I saw it. It was explosively amazing. I had to back up and experience it over and over again, not even fully aware of what I was actually experiencing. Come to think of it, this is a lot like life itself. We look for and experience patterns -- some we recognize and many we fail to respond to.
I don't remember Kindering anywhere near as well as Eyemyth, but IIRC it was a much more passive, peaceful work.
-s.
Eyemyth is an amazing work if only because it took a year for Brakhage to create it but clocks in at a speedy nine seconds of wonder.
It is a silent film.
The idea, if I can properly understand it, was that he would create a myth without the use of language, a myth born purely of our own perceptions. I don't really know if this is possible or not, but one comprehends the abstracted pictures a whole lot better when still frames are shown rather than the movie. I've opted not to post any images because viewing a still might actually taint one's viewing of the film as a whole. If one wants to find stills, though, they are easily found in a google search or at Fred Camper's site.
I guess one question I have even before I watch Eyemyth again is: Can there be a myth without a story? Or, does a narrative need words to still speak to us?
I watched Eyemyth at least ten times the first time I saw it. It was explosively amazing. I had to back up and experience it over and over again, not even fully aware of what I was actually experiencing. Come to think of it, this is a lot like life itself. We look for and experience patterns -- some we recognize and many we fail to respond to.
I don't remember Kindering anywhere near as well as Eyemyth, but IIRC it was a much more passive, peaceful work.
-s.
Kindering is one of the very few that actually has a soundtrack, which seems to aid the creation and the world we are experiencing in it.
Watching Eye Myth in still frames, or a slow forward, tends to kill the notion of the myth being created visually. Stan has some short but interesting remarks on the DVD for Eye Myth. Another reason it took so long to complete was that it was originally 29 minutes.
Watching Eye Myth in still frames, or a slow forward, tends to kill the notion of the myth being created visually. Stan has some short but interesting remarks on the DVD for Eye Myth. Another reason it took so long to complete was that it was originally 29 minutes.
QUOTE(asher @ Dec 30 2005, 12:54 PM) [snapback]96236[/snapback]
Kindering is one of the very few that actually has a soundtrack, which seems to aid the creation and the world we are experiencing in it.
Absolutely true. In fact, this time, as I watched those two films (more than three times each), it was Kindering that I responded to more favorably than Eye Myth.
In Kindering we have SB's grandchildren caught in a moment of play, but shot with little regard to sentimentality or innocence. There are at times several juxtaposed or interlayed shots that show two grandchildren -- a little boy and little girl -- playing with each other in a big back yard. You see the front porch, the family dog, the big ol' tree in the front yard and a clothesline in the frames. Later on the clothesline is substitued for a leash, but we will get into that in a moment.
There were more special effects in this film than I remember from other SB films. The little girl on the swing in the first minute of the film had an editing effect that was fantastic. She seemed to stop in mid-air and switch to slow motion, and the garbled music ran perfectly in stride. The effect reminded me of something from a modern day horror film, to be honest. Like a stop-motion shot out of The Ring or Saw. It elevated the non-innocence theme running throughout the short.
The music seemed comprised of two backward tracks done seperately but running side by side. One was a stock orchestra score that seemed like it was from another film, the other was a child's voice singing acapella with lots and lots of reverb (which always creates tension backwards). I watched the films with my wife, who really found the music quite disturbing. I'm a little more at home with this type of recording, and have actually done many recordings using the exact effect (turn over the two-inch tape), so I didn't find it nearly as disturbing as she. In fact, at moments, I found it lovely. But who is this "A.O." who was responsible for it?
The problem I have with the film is this: What are the grandchildren doing? Brakhage spoke of the "rituals of adulthood" in the interview prior to the film, mentioning that the children seemed to be acting out some of the things they see socialized in adults. Well, what I saw was equal to a little girl who ended up on a leash and a little boy who was swinging a very big stick at her. Does this signify the aggressiveness of men and the submissiveness of women, or am I reading too much into the image here? Perhaps he just had a stick to swing; perhaps she was only playing "doggie." Is SB only capturing a moment of the play of his grandkids, or is he trying to convey something more?
Regardless of the motive, I found the film unique, separate, and altogether different than the things I am used to seeing. In short, I loved it. I loved his choice of shooting through the leaves in order to obtain a more mysterious and abstracted image of the grandchildren.
However, Eyemyth befuddled me this time around. I must've watched it six times, and each time I seemed to gain nothing compared to my first experience with it.
SB spoke of the "little stories" that the eye seems to draw in -- are they there in the nine seconds of this project? I don't know. I see a man, maybe a few men, and they appear to be reaching out or up. Perhaps the myth is that one can fully comprehend vision. Or that one can rely on the things that they see.
I have heard that Brakhage wanted public viewings to show the film three times before any comments were made. I can understand this. Nine seconds just seems like too short a time with all of the images stuffed into this idea.
I thought it was interesting that "Doing it" convinced Stan that he could make a myth that is only relayed in vision. Again, this may sound trite, but isn't life like that? You never know what you can accomplish or obtain until you find yourself in the middle of it, walking in faith.
-s.
QUOTE(stef @ Dec 31 2005, 02:34 AM) [snapback]96284[/snapback]
However, Eyemyth befuddled me this time around. I must've watched it six times, and each time I seemed to gain nothing compared to my first experience with it.
I just had the opposite experience, and thus attempted my first actual Brakhage
review.
QUOTE
SB spoke of the "little stories" that the eye seems to draw in -- are they there in the nine seconds of this project? I don't know. I see a man, maybe a few men, and they appear to be reaching out or up. Perhaps the myth is that one can fully comprehend vision. Or that one can rely on the things that they see.
I don't think the "myth" aspect has to do with what one can or can't see. He basis the "oxymoronic" sense of the film on the difference between eye and mouth ("myth"), and is simply trying to create a myth that has nothing to do with oracular or literary processes. Whether he accomplishes this or not is the question to ask. I am not really convinced that his conception of "myth" is the same one that literary criticism has generally accepted. So if he thinks he has been successful in creating an "Eye Myth," than he is doing so on the basis of a slightly skewed definition of myth.
On the other hand, what I do like so much about the film is that he does establish a link between the eye and the mouth in terms of discourse activity. He uses film as a medium of "myth-making." Not using film to tell stories that are mythical in nature, but actually creating an image that somehow parallels the verbal process of myth-making.
I am just trying to make sense of this as I go along. Thoughts on Kindering later.
I am finally able to watch my region 1 brakhage dvd thanks to my housemate's chipped dvd player! hoorah and huzzah!
looking forward to participating in this thread once I've worked my way through the many many films.
looking forward to participating in this thread once I've worked my way through the many many films.
Just thought I'd mention that I came across a new book on Brakhage that contains a variety of essays by many writers. It looks quite good.
"Stan Brakhage: Filmmaker contains arguments and perspectives on Brakhage's work I've not seen before. The combination of academic perspectives and those of filmmakers is an especially original and appropriate way to treat Brakhage, who always hoped his films would inspire new ways of seeing and making, and is a major strength of this fine book, which offers a variety of new and interesting ways of thinking about Brakhage's films."
—Fred Camper, independent film scholar
Contents:
Acknowledgements
1. Introduction: Stan Brakhage: The Activity of His Nature – David E. James
2. Stan Brakhage – Parker Tyler
3. Brakhage. Breer. Menken. The Pure Poets of Cinema – Jonas Mekas
4. Brakhage and Rilke – Jerome Hill
5. On The Art of Vision – Robert Kelly
6. The First Time I Heard the Word "Brakhage" – Edward Dorn
7. Camera Lucida/Camera Obscura – Annette Michelson
8. Brakhage Memoir – James Tenney
9. Amateurs in the Industry Town: Stan Brakhage and Andy Warhol in Los Angeles – David E. James
10. It Is Painting – Carolee Schneemann
11. Brakhage: Poesis – R. Bruce Elder
12. Recollections of Stan Brakhage – Jonas Mekas
13. The Roman Numeral Series – Nicky Hamlyn
14. Letter re: Stan – Bruce Baillie
15. Stan Brakhage, Agrimoniac – Craig Dworkin
16. Brakhage Package – Chick Strand
17. Brakhage's Faustian Psychodrama – P. Adams Sitney
18. Stan Brakhage: American Visionary – Willie Varela
19. Brakhage's Occasions: Figure, Subjectivity, and Avant-Garde Politics – Tyrus Miller
20. Notes on Sincerity and Irony – Abigail Child
21. Becoming Dark With Excess of Light: The Vancouver Island Films – Paul Arthur
22. As I Am Writing This Today – Phil Solomon
Contributors
Index
"Stan Brakhage: Filmmaker contains arguments and perspectives on Brakhage's work I've not seen before. The combination of academic perspectives and those of filmmakers is an especially original and appropriate way to treat Brakhage, who always hoped his films would inspire new ways of seeing and making, and is a major strength of this fine book, which offers a variety of new and interesting ways of thinking about Brakhage's films."
—Fred Camper, independent film scholar
Contents:
Acknowledgements
1. Introduction: Stan Brakhage: The Activity of His Nature – David E. James
2. Stan Brakhage – Parker Tyler
3. Brakhage. Breer. Menken. The Pure Poets of Cinema – Jonas Mekas
4. Brakhage and Rilke – Jerome Hill
5. On The Art of Vision – Robert Kelly
6. The First Time I Heard the Word "Brakhage" – Edward Dorn
7. Camera Lucida/Camera Obscura – Annette Michelson
8. Brakhage Memoir – James Tenney
9. Amateurs in the Industry Town: Stan Brakhage and Andy Warhol in Los Angeles – David E. James
10. It Is Painting – Carolee Schneemann
11. Brakhage: Poesis – R. Bruce Elder
12. Recollections of Stan Brakhage – Jonas Mekas
13. The Roman Numeral Series – Nicky Hamlyn
14. Letter re: Stan – Bruce Baillie
15. Stan Brakhage, Agrimoniac – Craig Dworkin
16. Brakhage Package – Chick Strand
17. Brakhage's Faustian Psychodrama – P. Adams Sitney
18. Stan Brakhage: American Visionary – Willie Varela
19. Brakhage's Occasions: Figure, Subjectivity, and Avant-Garde Politics – Tyrus Miller
20. Notes on Sincerity and Irony – Abigail Child
21. Becoming Dark With Excess of Light: The Vancouver Island Films – Paul Arthur
22. As I Am Writing This Today – Phil Solomon
Contributors
Index
When discussing Brakhage it seems one can only discuss form to a small degree. Brakhage created moving paintings. What is the structural form for this artistic expression? You can’t discuss form in the traditional painting sense and you can’t discuss form in the traditional filmmaking sense so it seems one is forced into perception.
Brakhage presents an image painted onto the strip of film and as the film feeds through the projector we see a work of painted art evolve with every passing frame. The original still painted image is moving, almost creating a living work of art or a performance piece. Our eyes do not possess the ability to observe each and every changing detail so it could very easily become a new experience with each viewing.
He does not create film in a narrative form of story telling but with an experimental notion where audience participation is required, therefore, when discussing Brakhage you almost immediately find yourself in interpretation mode and standpoint becomes quite foundational.
Eye Myth is one piece of evidence expressing why Brakhage is so amazing. He places this film before you and, like a true artist, offers little explanation just a bit of insight into his thinking, "The eyes are flaring with little stories..." This quote kind of captures the film for me, especially in regard to the word "myth". Our mouths tell the story but our eyes see the story and, often, have the desire to communicate verbally what they have seen. Brakhage, by placing no audio or vocal cues, begins to challenge the idea that verbal communication and visual communication are dependent upon one another for complete expression however necessary for shared experiences. So now I wonder, is it a necessity to possess shared meaning in a visual experience?
The comment then had me thinking about whether it is the eyes that have stories to tell or is it the eyes that long to see stories. In the end are we, the audience left to determine what the myth is or are we really to create our own?
In Eye Myth the image now becomes the text creating the constructs of meaning and truth is established through the aesthetic value. Interestingly enough, in the end, we have to use language to express what we see, what we experienced, unless this is meant to be an individual experience and not shared in a collective nature, thus we should stop talking about this.
So how do we share in such an experience? What "myth" did you see?
I also found it interesting that Stan Brakhage claims to be a frustrated poet which is why he thinks he does use some words in his films, if only in the title, and you have to admit, there it something poetic in the title Eye Myth. It is visual yet non-descript.
Brakhage presents an image painted onto the strip of film and as the film feeds through the projector we see a work of painted art evolve with every passing frame. The original still painted image is moving, almost creating a living work of art or a performance piece. Our eyes do not possess the ability to observe each and every changing detail so it could very easily become a new experience with each viewing.
He does not create film in a narrative form of story telling but with an experimental notion where audience participation is required, therefore, when discussing Brakhage you almost immediately find yourself in interpretation mode and standpoint becomes quite foundational.
Eye Myth is one piece of evidence expressing why Brakhage is so amazing. He places this film before you and, like a true artist, offers little explanation just a bit of insight into his thinking, "The eyes are flaring with little stories..." This quote kind of captures the film for me, especially in regard to the word "myth". Our mouths tell the story but our eyes see the story and, often, have the desire to communicate verbally what they have seen. Brakhage, by placing no audio or vocal cues, begins to challenge the idea that verbal communication and visual communication are dependent upon one another for complete expression however necessary for shared experiences. So now I wonder, is it a necessity to possess shared meaning in a visual experience?
The comment then had me thinking about whether it is the eyes that have stories to tell or is it the eyes that long to see stories. In the end are we, the audience left to determine what the myth is or are we really to create our own?
In Eye Myth the image now becomes the text creating the constructs of meaning and truth is established through the aesthetic value. Interestingly enough, in the end, we have to use language to express what we see, what we experienced, unless this is meant to be an individual experience and not shared in a collective nature, thus we should stop talking about this.
So how do we share in such an experience? What "myth" did you see?
I also found it interesting that Stan Brakhage claims to be a frustrated poet which is why he thinks he does use some words in his films, if only in the title, and you have to admit, there it something poetic in the title Eye Myth. It is visual yet non-descript.
"Brakhage, by placing no audio or vocal cues, begins to challenge the idea that verbal communication and visual communication are dependent upon one another for complete expression however necessary for shared experiences. So now I wonder, is it a necessity to possess shared meaning in a visual experience?"
Hm. I think I am with you on the first sentence. I think Stef and I have decided that this is what Brakhage thinks he is doing in Eye Myth but doesn't pull it off, because it is impossible. As far as the "shared experience" facet is concerned, does this actually factor in? I have always had this image of Brakhage as a solitary mind producing images for solitary viewers. If Brakhage is all about bypassing verbal, conventional, dramatic, narrative, and other assorted cues and directly targeting our mind's eye, then doesn't that imply that "shared meaning" has nothing to do with it?
And I am not suggesting that there is a relative sense to all of his films. As if you just take from them what you can and yada yada yada. Stef and I had precisely the same response to Kindering. I would articulate it differently, but whatever was encoded in the film unfolded in our brains basically the same way, and I will bet all the royalties to The Myth Trilogy that you did as well. I think his films are pointed, he gets a fairly specific idea that he is working with, and somehow gets it across to us. But that doesn't occur via the typical avenues of "shared meaning" such as dramatic convention, genre, narrative form, or even formalistic repetition.
Just musing...
Hm. I think I am with you on the first sentence. I think Stef and I have decided that this is what Brakhage thinks he is doing in Eye Myth but doesn't pull it off, because it is impossible. As far as the "shared experience" facet is concerned, does this actually factor in? I have always had this image of Brakhage as a solitary mind producing images for solitary viewers. If Brakhage is all about bypassing verbal, conventional, dramatic, narrative, and other assorted cues and directly targeting our mind's eye, then doesn't that imply that "shared meaning" has nothing to do with it?
And I am not suggesting that there is a relative sense to all of his films. As if you just take from them what you can and yada yada yada. Stef and I had precisely the same response to Kindering. I would articulate it differently, but whatever was encoded in the film unfolded in our brains basically the same way, and I will bet all the royalties to The Myth Trilogy that you did as well. I think his films are pointed, he gets a fairly specific idea that he is working with, and somehow gets it across to us. But that doesn't occur via the typical avenues of "shared meaning" such as dramatic convention, genre, narrative form, or even formalistic repetition.
Just musing...
Let's test your theory though. For this weekend I propose we watch Desisistfilm and Cat's Cradle. Each of these seems to have a narrative structure that is visually relayed; these are stories, stories that have structure, but the structure is certainly not linear nor even broken down chronologically. The stories here are felt to be understood, and that is why Brakhage remanis so incredibly emotive even in this strange, anti-mainstream genre.
And for the record, here is a question for you: When watching Desistfilm, I often think of Masculin, féminin. Certainly it can't just be the way I see it? You've got to wonder whether Godard might have seen this before he cracked the French New Wave wide open.
-s.
And for the record, here is a question for you: When watching Desistfilm, I often think of Masculin, féminin. Certainly it can't just be the way I see it? You've got to wonder whether Godard might have seen this before he cracked the French New Wave wide open.
-s.
PS Going back to Asher's last post is conjuring up images of shared experiences like Plato's Cave analogy. Whoa, time to go to bed before somebody puts old Socrates to death.
-s.
-s.
QUOTE(stef @ Jan 20 2006, 02:32 AM) [snapback]98307[/snapback]
Let's test your theory though. For this weekend I propose we watch Desisistfilm and Cat's Cradle.
Brilliant idea. Let's all post a 200 word response at the same time on Monday so that we won't be influenced by each other's perceptions
QUOTE
And for the record, here is a question for you: When watching Desistfilm, I often think of Masculin, féminin. Certainly it can't just be the way I see it? You've got to wonder whether Godard might have seen this before he cracked the French New Wave wide open.
Great Stef, you foiled the plan! Now this is what I will be thinking about! But I haven't thought of this, I look forward to seeing the connections.
The first thing about Desistfilm that catches you off guard is the droning, moaned sounds that are displayed as the short opening (drawn) credits are rolled. It is practically screaming out, especially to anyone viewing the film in the 1950s, "The old ways are dead, let's take this thing for all it is worth, let's really take Buñuel and Cocteau to the final conclusion of what they wanted to get at when they launched filmic surrealism." So you are at once caught off guard by a sound that sets you up for images that don't seem to mesh with the sound, and this is the beginning of experimentation.
This is before The French New Wave, this is before Breathless and Last Year at Marienbad, which is amazing to think about, that Brakhage had them beat. Whether they were aware of him or not I do not know but he was miles ahead of them at their own game. There are great hand held shots that as they whirl about the atmosphere do not beg for an edit. There are enough cigarettes to light a revolution, and there is this disjointed feeling brought about by tense, chaotic, just-plain-strange music that seems to not fit the scene. Any guesses as to what the music actually is, by the way? It sounds to me like two distorted trombones or vocals and some kind of a beaten dull bell. Later during the dance/party scene it is obviously a distored piano in 6/8 time, and later we return to something very distorted.
It is interesting to note that there actually is a narrative that forms after a few viewings, although I am certain it is open to interpretation. Students are studying, sitting around or bored. The announcement of a party (or maybe just wine) happens. A party is something that is supposed to bring people together, but this one does not accomplish its purpose. The people are found sitting right next to one another, but isolated -- one inspects his belly, another stacks books, another lights matches and stares off into space. Wine seems to unite the group and bring them to life.
A film can be like a party that brings social groups together, but rather than getting crazy, a film is for reform. It is no surprise then that the only time the group is united is when all of the men in the room end up watching the couple kiss, and that they are stuck in the film as the couple are brought to life. The film has brought two people together, but the innards of the film, those locked away inside, have not accomplished anything except to become another form of entertainment. They try to bust through the screen, they try to see into the movie aisles, but to no avail. Finally in the end, after running with shadows through the eerily lit woods, it seems that they somehow do break through some barrier, and they catch the couple in the process of a (drunken) dance. The dance is like a party, like wine, and like a film. It has the potential to bring people closer together. It is for this purpose that the film was originally made.
I think the reason it reminds me of early Godard is three-fold: it deals with young people who are in the process of finding themselves in their young-adult years; it is shot in black and white with heavy emphasis on experimentation; and it is unafraid to leave a mystery at the end rather than an answer. I cannot wait for The Church to catch up to this form of thinking.
Cat's Cradle was just as confusing as I'd remembered it. But I like looking at these earlier works before really trying to dive into something as heavy as Dog Star Man. The thing that I remembered most about Cat's Cradle, and it was obvious again from the first frame, is that it is the most dark red-orange film one might ever see. It is also very cut, which is mind boggling considering how much tape must have been hanging all over Brakhage's house for a short little 6-1/2 minute film. At times it is so rapidly cut that it actually made my heart leap, which is utterly cool because I had no idea why my heart was leaping other than, "Wow, did that look cool!" So style is obviously one of the top reasons we stick with Cat's Cradle until its end. The film is like an ongoing grand finale at a Fourth of July fireworks show. It pops and explodes a million times a second, and it makes you excited at the burst.
I've got to say that I didn't get the whole "Sexual witchcraft" explanation that Brakhage tries to pull off, but Jane was more beautiful than ever, and the ending was riveting. It's the kind of ending that you don't know is the ending until the credits roll, and then you're all, "Wow."
Sensual (red) stuff. I think I'd like to watch it again in the early fall.
-s.
This is before The French New Wave, this is before Breathless and Last Year at Marienbad, which is amazing to think about, that Brakhage had them beat. Whether they were aware of him or not I do not know but he was miles ahead of them at their own game. There are great hand held shots that as they whirl about the atmosphere do not beg for an edit. There are enough cigarettes to light a revolution, and there is this disjointed feeling brought about by tense, chaotic, just-plain-strange music that seems to not fit the scene. Any guesses as to what the music actually is, by the way? It sounds to me like two distorted trombones or vocals and some kind of a beaten dull bell. Later during the dance/party scene it is obviously a distored piano in 6/8 time, and later we return to something very distorted.
It is interesting to note that there actually is a narrative that forms after a few viewings, although I am certain it is open to interpretation. Students are studying, sitting around or bored. The announcement of a party (or maybe just wine) happens. A party is something that is supposed to bring people together, but this one does not accomplish its purpose. The people are found sitting right next to one another, but isolated -- one inspects his belly, another stacks books, another lights matches and stares off into space. Wine seems to unite the group and bring them to life.
A film can be like a party that brings social groups together, but rather than getting crazy, a film is for reform. It is no surprise then that the only time the group is united is when all of the men in the room end up watching the couple kiss, and that they are stuck in the film as the couple are brought to life. The film has brought two people together, but the innards of the film, those locked away inside, have not accomplished anything except to become another form of entertainment. They try to bust through the screen, they try to see into the movie aisles, but to no avail. Finally in the end, after running with shadows through the eerily lit woods, it seems that they somehow do break through some barrier, and they catch the couple in the process of a (drunken) dance. The dance is like a party, like wine, and like a film. It has the potential to bring people closer together. It is for this purpose that the film was originally made.
I think the reason it reminds me of early Godard is three-fold: it deals with young people who are in the process of finding themselves in their young-adult years; it is shot in black and white with heavy emphasis on experimentation; and it is unafraid to leave a mystery at the end rather than an answer. I cannot wait for The Church to catch up to this form of thinking.
Cat's Cradle was just as confusing as I'd remembered it. But I like looking at these earlier works before really trying to dive into something as heavy as Dog Star Man. The thing that I remembered most about Cat's Cradle, and it was obvious again from the first frame, is that it is the most dark red-orange film one might ever see. It is also very cut, which is mind boggling considering how much tape must have been hanging all over Brakhage's house for a short little 6-1/2 minute film. At times it is so rapidly cut that it actually made my heart leap, which is utterly cool because I had no idea why my heart was leaping other than, "Wow, did that look cool!" So style is obviously one of the top reasons we stick with Cat's Cradle until its end. The film is like an ongoing grand finale at a Fourth of July fireworks show. It pops and explodes a million times a second, and it makes you excited at the burst.
I've got to say that I didn't get the whole "Sexual witchcraft" explanation that Brakhage tries to pull off, but Jane was more beautiful than ever, and the ending was riveting. It's the kind of ending that you don't know is the ending until the credits roll, and then you're all, "Wow."
Sensual (red) stuff. I think I'd like to watch it again in the early fall.
-s.
Asher and I have stumbled across what will never be described as a "chance encounter," but rather, a meeting with some of Brakhage's friends from years ago -- friends who happen to also own many of his very rare films on 16 mm, and desire for the public to see them in that format. Needless to say, we leaped at the opportunity last night, heading up to the north side to meet the folks that Fred Camper has recently referred us to. Right here in Chicago, living in the same house, are two separate Brakhage friends: Bruce Cooper and his bountiful family live downstairs, and Mimi Brav and her teenage son live upstairs (names given with permission). The two have been friends with Stan at different points in his life, and each own a large number of his films. They somehow met up years after knowing him (in a church, no less) and later ended up as friends and neighbors. Their story is astounding, as is their love and admiration for Stan Brakhage's work.
My own reasoning for never describing such an event as a "chance-encounter," is that the day before this meeting, Mimi happened to find herself 30 miles southwest in my suburb, at my own church, where I lead in the Sunday morning worship service (and my wife delivered the morning sermon). Out of 9 million people in the greater metropolitan area, we unknowingly connected twice in two days, through two very similar means -- Christian Spirituality and art. Brakhage would've loved the preordained feel of this "not-by-chance" encounter.
We started out as film lovers do -- we discussed lots of different films – Bruce loves Dreyer and Bresson so there was immediate identification there. We also discussed Resnais (I’ve now seen Hiroshima mon amour several times), Cassavetes (Asher just watched Shadows),and others, but the conversation for the most part always wandered back to Brakhage. We read letters that Stan had sent over the years, we looked at a glass piece of art he had made, and were told that Mimi owns 50 films by Brakhage, and that Bruce has another ten. All on 16 mm. Not to mention all of the audio tapes and books they have, that, maybe we’d like to listen to some next time?…
What a great, special find, meeting these people in this moment when some of us have been trying to focus more clearly on the spiritual aspects of Brakhage’s artistic intent (and life).
So we brought the screen and projector upstairs and watched Tortured Dust, a 90 minute autobiographical film which is shown in four reels, the fourth of which was added on at a later time for its further completion. The films mostly center on Stan’s sons and his family, with very little of himself involved in the picture. The sons are in their teenage years, and it is a time of growing up – and possibly away – from Dad. This is also a time when Stan’s marriage to Jane is disintegrating, so we are watching very tender scenes of a family that seems close, but the tension underneath the surface is that we know that things are rapidly falling apart.
Stan’s relationship with his sons at this time isn’t where he hoped things would turn out. Mimi read his letters from this period, and one event described how the sons came to a place where they actually loathed Stan’s films and refused to watch them. He wrote about a screening where family members (and more?) had begun to watch his film, but they began to slowly filter out of the room one by one until it was only him left alone with the film still running. This naturally depressed him to the core, placing even more strain on the group.
Family and nature play into all of Brakhage’s work from the 60s to the 80s, so the themes aren’t extremely new to those who are familiar with his oeuvre. What was new to me in watching Tortured Dust was the more somber tone of the story. We are looking at real people here, people that we’ve seen before, perhaps in happier times than we see them now. Not that they all look sad – they don’t. It’s just that in retrospect we know that this is the last of Stan’s autobiographical films. So the end is near.
In one sense, it is a shame that his sons and family didn’t understand and couldn’t enter into his work. Mimi says that Stan wanted, in regard to his family, a Renaissance of sorts, a family that would have a revival of life and culture, becoming accomplished in the arts. However it is also easy to understand the family’s embarrassment at the films at times. Who wants to be photographed in their underpants or while they are sleeping? Who wants to be filmed while breast feeding or giving birth? Who wants to always be on the guard that they might be caught saying something potentially offensive or embarrassing? On the one hand, it’s a shame they couldn’t appreciate the films; on the other hand it seems a natural outcome to them.
So a bit about Tortured Dust. In Reel One we are introduced to the family, particularly two sons, in their later teenage years, and they are shot in every possible kind of setting, in every way imaginable. Brakhage loves to watch them through the lens, and he loves to show them to the world. His kids are found in slow motion, in reverse, in shadows in dim light, in bright light with glare (In one of his letters he referred to “Standing on the sun-porch flashing multi-faceted light at the lens…”)… They're shown with animals, alone, together, naked, clothed, hazy, clear, distorted, superimposed with other images and filtered with colors and scorched lights. In other reels this trend continues, and they are pictured upside down, right-side up, as negatives, and with incredible flowing images around them, natural but enhanced by Brakhage’s lens. The film is silent, the pictures are of the ordinary and mundane tasks and the plain-speak conversations of life, but it seems that somehow, through editing and the use of flashes of light and color, Stan aims to make the ordinary extra-ordinary. Superimposed and staggered shots are edited to sway and leap off the screen.
These are extraordinary works on a large screen in 16mm. The depth is so much deeper than any Criterion-TV experience.
The image is deeper than the bonds though. Everyone in the Brakhage household is shot with some emotional distance. Stan seems separated from all except through the use of his camera. In Reel Two we get the most autobiographical of all the images in Tortured Dust: Brakhage, alone, aiming the camera at a mirror and capturing only himself with his camera. It is more silent in this moment than in the rest of the movie – he is showing us that he is indeed alone, in this setting, with his camera.
In Reel Three there are moments when the family seems to have a more sour, confrontational look about them when filmed. One time Jane looks surprised that Stan is filming her. At other points the facial expressions just don’t seem to generate a feeling of well being. A mosaic that Jane made is easily seen in the background near the end of the film; could it be metaphorical for the individual pieces that make up an entire body of art/us?
The fourth reel, which seems to have been added years later, begins differently than the rest. Clear frames of color shoot across the screen like a fireworks display, until finally in the middle of all of these bursts (think of something like the end of 2001: A Space Odyssey, and you are close) a breast feeding mother and her baby emerge. It is Stan’s daughter, and the fourth film, more hopeful, rests in the hands of his grandchildren, interrupted by constant, whirling, soundless lightning flashes (with color that, as Bruce aptly pointed out, are foreshadowing the painted films around the corner, after the divorce)… The final shot of Stan’s beautiful three year-old granddaughter drives home the need for hope with clarity.
I cannot emphasize enough what a joy it is to see films like these in a house setting (it felt like something Bazin would’ve pulled together for his contemporaries), with the people that knew Stan and studied film under him, people who still love and remember him all these years later.
CansafbRG, you Chicago film-lovers that we know are still lurking around, you have got to come with me and meet these people and see his work all lit up like this. We are going to meet again on a Monday night next month… MdSteves? I believe this is in your neighborhood, too.
Leary, we need you home…. Come home soon and join us!
Top 100, I am convinced more than ever that we need to include Brakhage’s work on the list somewhere. He has 26 films that Criterion has brought to DVD. Please see them soon and let’s settle on something to recognize in the Top 100. At the very least, after over 400 artistic films, films filled with themes that are easier to recognize as inherently ours, he at least deserves a harder look from everyone here.
-s.
My own reasoning for never describing such an event as a "chance-encounter," is that the day before this meeting, Mimi happened to find herself 30 miles southwest in my suburb, at my own church, where I lead in the Sunday morning worship service (and my wife delivered the morning sermon). Out of 9 million people in the greater metropolitan area, we unknowingly connected twice in two days, through two very similar means -- Christian Spirituality and art. Brakhage would've loved the preordained feel of this "not-by-chance" encounter.
We started out as film lovers do -- we discussed lots of different films – Bruce loves Dreyer and Bresson so there was immediate identification there. We also discussed Resnais (I’ve now seen Hiroshima mon amour several times), Cassavetes (Asher just watched Shadows),and others, but the conversation for the most part always wandered back to Brakhage. We read letters that Stan had sent over the years, we looked at a glass piece of art he had made, and were told that Mimi owns 50 films by Brakhage, and that Bruce has another ten. All on 16 mm. Not to mention all of the audio tapes and books they have, that, maybe we’d like to listen to some next time?…
What a great, special find, meeting these people in this moment when some of us have been trying to focus more clearly on the spiritual aspects of Brakhage’s artistic intent (and life).
So we brought the screen and projector upstairs and watched Tortured Dust, a 90 minute autobiographical film which is shown in four reels, the fourth of which was added on at a later time for its further completion. The films mostly center on Stan’s sons and his family, with very little of himself involved in the picture. The sons are in their teenage years, and it is a time of growing up – and possibly away – from Dad. This is also a time when Stan’s marriage to Jane is disintegrating, so we are watching very tender scenes of a family that seems close, but the tension underneath the surface is that we know that things are rapidly falling apart.
Stan’s relationship with his sons at this time isn’t where he hoped things would turn out. Mimi read his letters from this period, and one event described how the sons came to a place where they actually loathed Stan’s films and refused to watch them. He wrote about a screening where family members (and more?) had begun to watch his film, but they began to slowly filter out of the room one by one until it was only him left alone with the film still running. This naturally depressed him to the core, placing even more strain on the group.
Family and nature play into all of Brakhage’s work from the 60s to the 80s, so the themes aren’t extremely new to those who are familiar with his oeuvre. What was new to me in watching Tortured Dust was the more somber tone of the story. We are looking at real people here, people that we’ve seen before, perhaps in happier times than we see them now. Not that they all look sad – they don’t. It’s just that in retrospect we know that this is the last of Stan’s autobiographical films. So the end is near.
In one sense, it is a shame that his sons and family didn’t understand and couldn’t enter into his work. Mimi says that Stan wanted, in regard to his family, a Renaissance of sorts, a family that would have a revival of life and culture, becoming accomplished in the arts. However it is also easy to understand the family’s embarrassment at the films at times. Who wants to be photographed in their underpants or while they are sleeping? Who wants to be filmed while breast feeding or giving birth? Who wants to always be on the guard that they might be caught saying something potentially offensive or embarrassing? On the one hand, it’s a shame they couldn’t appreciate the films; on the other hand it seems a natural outcome to them.
So a bit about Tortured Dust. In Reel One we are introduced to the family, particularly two sons, in their later teenage years, and they are shot in every possible kind of setting, in every way imaginable. Brakhage loves to watch them through the lens, and he loves to show them to the world. His kids are found in slow motion, in reverse, in shadows in dim light, in bright light with glare (In one of his letters he referred to “Standing on the sun-porch flashing multi-faceted light at the lens…”)… They're shown with animals, alone, together, naked, clothed, hazy, clear, distorted, superimposed with other images and filtered with colors and scorched lights. In other reels this trend continues, and they are pictured upside down, right-side up, as negatives, and with incredible flowing images around them, natural but enhanced by Brakhage’s lens. The film is silent, the pictures are of the ordinary and mundane tasks and the plain-speak conversations of life, but it seems that somehow, through editing and the use of flashes of light and color, Stan aims to make the ordinary extra-ordinary. Superimposed and staggered shots are edited to sway and leap off the screen.
These are extraordinary works on a large screen in 16mm. The depth is so much deeper than any Criterion-TV experience.
The image is deeper than the bonds though. Everyone in the Brakhage household is shot with some emotional distance. Stan seems separated from all except through the use of his camera. In Reel Two we get the most autobiographical of all the images in Tortured Dust: Brakhage, alone, aiming the camera at a mirror and capturing only himself with his camera. It is more silent in this moment than in the rest of the movie – he is showing us that he is indeed alone, in this setting, with his camera.
In Reel Three there are moments when the family seems to have a more sour, confrontational look about them when filmed. One time Jane looks surprised that Stan is filming her. At other points the facial expressions just don’t seem to generate a feeling of well being. A mosaic that Jane made is easily seen in the background near the end of the film; could it be metaphorical for the individual pieces that make up an entire body of art/us?
The fourth reel, which seems to have been added years later, begins differently than the rest. Clear frames of color shoot across the screen like a fireworks display, until finally in the middle of all of these bursts (think of something like the end of 2001: A Space Odyssey, and you are close) a breast feeding mother and her baby emerge. It is Stan’s daughter, and the fourth film, more hopeful, rests in the hands of his grandchildren, interrupted by constant, whirling, soundless lightning flashes (with color that, as Bruce aptly pointed out, are foreshadowing the painted films around the corner, after the divorce)… The final shot of Stan’s beautiful three year-old granddaughter drives home the need for hope with clarity.
I cannot emphasize enough what a joy it is to see films like these in a house setting (it felt like something Bazin would’ve pulled together for his contemporaries), with the people that knew Stan and studied film under him, people who still love and remember him all these years later.
CansafbRG, you Chicago film-lovers that we know are still lurking around, you have got to come with me and meet these people and see his work all lit up like this. We are going to meet again on a Monday night next month… MdSteves? I believe this is in your neighborhood, too.
Leary, we need you home…. Come home soon and join us!
Top 100, I am convinced more than ever that we need to include Brakhage’s work on the list somewhere. He has 26 films that Criterion has brought to DVD. Please see them soon and let’s settle on something to recognize in the Top 100. At the very least, after over 400 artistic films, films filled with themes that are easier to recognize as inherently ours, he at least deserves a harder look from everyone here.
-s.
Wow Stef, you have encapsulated the evening with the utmost perfection. There is nothing really to add to Stef’s comments expect to maybe discuss the more technical aspect of Tortured Dust, which I hope to attempt in the next few days, however, I fear I would not bring this work of art any justice.
The admiration that Bruce and Mimi expressed and so willing shared with us was, at times, overwhelming. Their love for Stan’s art is only surpassed by their admiration for his person. And it is the knowledge of this person that truly completes the experience of his art. Last night I learned that Stan is the final dimension to his work and a necessary one at that; my missing piece.
It was a joy to be welcomed into such a respectful atmosphere.
The admiration that Bruce and Mimi expressed and so willing shared with us was, at times, overwhelming. Their love for Stan’s art is only surpassed by their admiration for his person. And it is the knowledge of this person that truly completes the experience of his art. Last night I learned that Stan is the final dimension to his work and a necessary one at that; my missing piece.
It was a joy to be welcomed into such a respectful atmosphere.
Wow. Just-- wow.
Harumph.
QUOTE
Stan’s relationship with his sons at this time isn’t where he hoped things would turn out. Mimi read his letters from this period, and one event described how the sons came to a place where they actually loathed Stan’s films and refused to watch them. He wrote about a screening where family members (and more?) had begun to watch his film, but they began to slowly filter out of the room one by one until it was only him left alone with the film still running. This naturally depressed him to the core, placing even more strain on the group.
In one sense, it is a shame that his sons and family didn’t understand and couldn’t enter into his work. Mimi says that Stan wanted, in regard to his family, a Renaissance of sorts, a family that would have a revival of life and culture, becoming accomplished in the arts. However it is also easy to understand the family’s embarrassment at the films at times. Who wants to be photographed in their underpants or while they are sleeping? Who wants to be filmed while breast feeding or giving birth? Who wants to always be on the guard that they might be caught saying something potentially offensive or embarrassing? On the one hand, it’s a shame they couldn’t appreciate the films; on the other hand it seems a natural outcome to them.
In Reel Three there are moments when the family seems to have a more sour, confrontational look about them when filmed. One time Jane looks surprised that Stan is filming her. At other points the facial expressions just don’t seem to generate a feeling of well being. A mosaic that Jane made is easily seen in the background near the end of the film; could it be metaphorical for the individual pieces that make up an entire body of art/us?
In one sense, it is a shame that his sons and family didn’t understand and couldn’t enter into his work. Mimi says that Stan wanted, in regard to his family, a Renaissance of sorts, a family that would have a revival of life and culture, becoming accomplished in the arts. However it is also easy to understand the family’s embarrassment at the films at times. Who wants to be photographed in their underpants or while they are sleeping? Who wants to be filmed while breast feeding or giving birth? Who wants to always be on the guard that they might be caught saying something potentially offensive or embarrassing? On the one hand, it’s a shame they couldn’t appreciate the films; on the other hand it seems a natural outcome to them.
In Reel Three there are moments when the family seems to have a more sour, confrontational look about them when filmed. One time Jane looks surprised that Stan is filming her. At other points the facial expressions just don’t seem to generate a feeling of well being. A mosaic that Jane made is easily seen in the background near the end of the film; could it be metaphorical for the individual pieces that make up an entire body of art/us?
I've always been disturbed at people who film their lives (and the lives of their intimates) obsessively. No matter how much I like or admire Brakhage or Ross McElwee as artists, I still see their acts of filming as extremely (passive) aggressive. (the whole "point and shoot" thing) Apparently, Brakhage was a fairly volatile, angry person, and this film may have been some attempt to deal with his effect on his family. Do you think that Brakhage really came to terms with the power disparity that using a camera gives you? It's interesting that his second wife refused to let him film her or her (their?) children. Which required a whole different approach to film.
QUOTE(goneganesh @ Feb 8 2006, 09:05 AM) [snapback]100040[/snapback]
I've always been disturbed at people who film their lives (and the lives of their intimates) obsessively. No matter how much I like or admire Brakhage or Ross McElwee as artists, I still see their acts of filming as extremely (passive) aggressive. (the whole "point and shoot" thing) Apparently, Brakhage was a fairly volatile, angry person, and this film may have been some attempt to deal with his effect on his family. Do you think that Brakhage really came to terms with the power disparity that using a camera gives you? It's interesting that his second wife refused to let him film her or her (their?) children. Which required a whole different approach to film.
I'm interested why you think he was a "volatile, angry person." His interviews, films, books and letters don't suggest he was volatile or angry. I'm sure we all have angry phases, but overall I don't see this. I do see, around the time he made Tortured Dust, a lonely and depressed man.
I'm not familiar with Ross McElwee outside of Sherman's March, which I was too young for when I saw it and have realized twenty years later that I must have missed the point, so I can't really comment on his work. I think a better point of comparison stylistically would be Jonathan Caouette and his Tarnation, in which we have an artist using heavy personal technique and an emphasis on very rapid edits, bringing out the psychology of a tortured soul and his family. However there is a huge difference between anything Jonathan Caouette has done and what I've seen in Brakhage, and that is the restraint of Brakhage, which differs from Caouette's showing of more than a few unrestrained emotional outbursts displaying an entire family on the edge. It seems that Brakhage is still trying to capture the beauty in his kids and wife while someone like Caouette is aiming to grate against the soul. If Stan wanted opportunity to bring out the Whole Bloody Truth ala something like Tarnation, he failed miserably, shown in the fact that he generally makes silent films based on the aesthetic nature of his own personal approach. In other words, Brakhage goes through this family crisis filming all along the way in good taste and with respect toward his subjects; I am not sure I would say the same thing for Caouette.
And like you said, we need to keep in mind that this is only the middle era of Brakhage's work. He didn't start out with these docu-dramas regarding him and his clan, and the film paintings from his last 15 years are nothing like the docu-dramas either. But according to the people that knew him, the reason he changed course in the latter part of his life had less to do with his new wife not wanting to be filmed (which is true), but more to do with the dreams he had before he met Jane in the first place. For instance, the Faust films were ideas that he had in the fifties. After the divorce, he began to work on these older ideas. And of course, the painting, which he had toyed with throughout the years, just kind of consumed him in his latter years. So I see it as having less to do with Marilyn and more to do with new drives and ideas kicking in.
-s.
QUOTE
I'm interested why you think he was a "volatile, angry person." His interviews, films, books and letters don't suggest he was volatile or angry. I'm sure we all have angry phases, but overall I don't see this. I do see, around the time he made Tortured Dust, a lonely and depressed man.
First of all, I'm not at all saying this as some kind of meta-criticism. It's not at all unusual to have artists who are driven by rage over humiliations, rejections and privations that they have endured. Also, Depressives tend to be rageful people. And I guess it's a combination of remarks that friends and collaborators made about his volatility, and a certain spider-sense i get watching his filmed interviews. He does specifically address rage and the creative process in this interview...
"Brahkage: Other things that came in relationship to that, very close kin, were Night Music and Rage Net. Rage Net comes out of the terrible awful feelings when I was divorcing. Just rage beyond anything I could possibly have imagined. Fortunately not very much at Jane, but just at the world itself. I mean, little did I know I was going to enter a whole new realm in which my...which Marilyn and I would make song way beyond anything I had been enabled to imagine before. I just found myself stuck with the awful rage of betrayal and a sense of loss and so on. So what to do? I mean, you start...you can feel pretty silly to just start carving on a piece of film at some point like that. Like why not just slit your throat instead, you know? I mean, there I am poking away and out comes some beauty. It’s so amazing. You say, well, you take a knife or a scraper and a little paint, and out squeezes a world of great beauty out of rage.
And it is still rage. It’s still rage, but it’s a beautiful rage. Every one of these, yes, I think that is right. They’re attempts to paint something that’s rising, that’s integral with the brain. It’s its own backfiring. Not just the optic system itself but the whole brain’s backfiring. And people say, well, what other way is there to do it? I’ve tried so many different ways to represent that in my making, go all the way back twenty, thirty years. Oh, herding brine shrimp into a tight corner and so they are shimmering like... they’re all kind of orange-ish and you put the light through them just right, and you can get something that looks a little bit like when you close your eyelids and the sun is coming through the lid, and so on.
Or shimmying bits and pieces of metal under a magnet, creating the rows of the iron filings... You can create all these shapes that are just...that tremble because of physical laws in the universe in relationship to the way one can see with one’s eyes closed.
So, I’m looking, for instance, at things also that help me just to survive...because music is always a desperate matter. Music to me is never just something [sings] ta da ta da [sings]. Music is desperate always in some sense. Why else would one break into song? I slipped once and went down, bang, on black ice. It cost me two cataracts. Both of my eyes now have plastic sewn in where once there was a flesh pupil. Then after two or three years, I make a film called Black Ice in which I plummet to the greatest depth I possibly can with little bits of paint painted onto film, something of this dreadful experience that, of course, I’ll never recover from in some sense."
QUOTE
If Stan wanted opportunity to bring out the Whole Bloody Truth ala something like Tarnation, he failed miserably, shown in the fact that he generally makes silent films based on the aesthetic nature of his own personal approach. In other words, Brakhage goes through this family crisis filming all along the way in good taste and with respect toward his subjects; I am not sure I would say the same thing for Caouette.
To clarify: I don't mean that these films are in conventional way "exposés", but that the act of filming itself, particularly in relation to ambivalent or hostile subjects, is aggressive without regard to content or the result. Turning your family into "subjects" and "objects" is definitely fraught with many dangers. By making them subjects, you are essentially making yourself the king of the castle. I'm punning here, but these power relations really do exist in film.
A closer analogy for me would be the songs of Loudon Wainwright III, infamous for his brutal autobiographical explorations of self and kin.
On Ross McElwee -- there the new box set, so there's no excuse not to get to know those films.
Thank you for transcribing all of the Brakhage quotes on rage, Goneganesh. Interesting comments indeed, and only about half of them are on the Criterion disc. For what it is worth, on the DVD there's also this quote, in which Stan speaks about rage in the introduction of Rage Net, "Much of what has been said about this film could be repeated here, except that Rage Net arises from meditation upon, rather than being trapped psychologically by, rage."
I think that it is worth stressing that the remarks you quoted came at a very specific point in time. They aren't the remarks of a volatile or angry person; rather, they are the remarks of an artist struck dumbfounded at the thought that the weight of his marriage is crashing down. He is filled with doubt, feeling that he has lost (perhaps wasted) entire decades of his life. I think that in that moment, rage is the proper human response.
It is also noteworthy that only a few films like this were made -- he did move on, and what he moved on to eventually became his most plainly spoken spiritual films.
Due to your thoughts I did watch both Night Music and Rage Net tonight. They are purely painted films, there is nothing else there but the flowing form of a painting. They are short, under a minute each, but look like they would have taken years to make. In Night Music Brakhage is trying to capture the beauty of sadness; in Rage Net, a meditation on rage. The rage has more jagged edges to it and is more convincing of the emotion it is trying to express. Both films are edited very similarly, which may work as a disadvantage in trying to differentiate them from each other. Nonetheless, for only a minute-or-so each, they are alternative filmmaking at its finest. It is a shame that it took sadness and rage to help shape and develop the form, but these passions have undoubtedly shaped more art than we will ever know.
-s.
PS Stan Brakhage update: Sonic Youth has put out a new live recording entitled SYR 6: Koncertas Stan Brakhage Prisiminimui, which Paste has given 4-1/2 out of Five stars to, in which The Youth improvise for a full length CD to Brakhage stills or shorts behind them. I haven't heard it but would certainly like to, and wonder if we will get a chance to actually see it.
I think that it is worth stressing that the remarks you quoted came at a very specific point in time. They aren't the remarks of a volatile or angry person; rather, they are the remarks of an artist struck dumbfounded at the thought that the weight of his marriage is crashing down. He is filled with doubt, feeling that he has lost (perhaps wasted) entire decades of his life. I think that in that moment, rage is the proper human response.
It is also noteworthy that only a few films like this were made -- he did move on, and what he moved on to eventually became his most plainly spoken spiritual films.
Due to your thoughts I did watch both Night Music and Rage Net tonight. They are purely painted films, there is nothing else there but the flowing form of a painting. They are short, under a minute each, but look like they would have taken years to make. In Night Music Brakhage is trying to capture the beauty of sadness; in Rage Net, a meditation on rage. The rage has more jagged edges to it and is more convincing of the emotion it is trying to express. Both films are edited very similarly, which may work as a disadvantage in trying to differentiate them from each other. Nonetheless, for only a minute-or-so each, they are alternative filmmaking at its finest. It is a shame that it took sadness and rage to help shape and develop the form, but these passions have undoubtedly shaped more art than we will ever know.
-s.
PS Stan Brakhage update: Sonic Youth has put out a new live recording entitled SYR 6: Koncertas Stan Brakhage Prisiminimui, which Paste has given 4-1/2 out of Five stars to, in which The Youth improvise for a full length CD to Brakhage stills or shorts behind them. I haven't heard it but would certainly like to, and wonder if we will get a chance to actually see it.
QUOTE
I think that it is worth stressing that the remarks you quoted came at a very specific point in time. They aren't the remarks of a volatile or angry person; rather, they are the remarks of an artist struck dumbfounded at the thought that the weight of his marriage is crashing down. He is filled with doubt, feeling that he has lost (perhaps wasted) entire decades of his life. I think that in that moment, rage is the proper human response.
I guess if Brakhage was truly dumbfounded (which I'm not at all sure is the case) then it seems he was truly naive about the costs of filming his family constantly. Marriages and families don't fall apart overnight. It takes years of mutual neglect and carelessness. Obviously by the time Brahkage made Tortured Dust, he was more aware of the hostility his cinematic gaze was returning. He may, as you say, not have noticed it before, and only saw this stuff in retrospect. When did he make that (Tortured Dust) film..?
I'm also pretty confident that Brakhage's anger wasn't just a phase. It seems like the dominant impulse of his art. The arc of his artistic trajectory is from 1) The OUTSIDE WORLD -- semi-conventional photographed "social" filmmaking, mixed with humiliating commercial work, to THE FAMILY CIRCLE and NATURE (autobiographical and personal poems) to METAPHYSICAL SOLIPSISM AND HERMITAGE (the painted films) I think we don't have to look far to sense a reinforcing pattern of mutual rejection and withdrawal.
I'm mostly speculating, of course. We'll have to wait for the definitive biography....
Again, I don't see this as a problem. Artists are under no obligation to be the buddha. Contentment rarely squares with art.
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