I’d originally intended to write this post on Jim Jarmusch’s Dead Man. A movie that follows Johnny Depp as William Blake on the run from vicious killers after having been set up for murder in the town of Machine. A western; there are shoot outs and taverns and Indians. Symbolic; setting as a vehicle for meaningful and suggestive imagery of hell, poetic dialogue orbiting the spirit's journey into death. Visually stunning sepia, wonderful performances, and enough depth to warrant meditated exploration of the snippets of truth and beauty in one man’s arduous journey into some next life. A great bad guy, and a great side kick; funny in the right places, violent when it needs to be; a great watch. You should watch it.
I was going to write about that for this post. I had begun writing about it for this post at my internship at a production company, but my boss interpreted my scribbling in a notebook as idleness and kindly suggested I research the directors with which the company often does business. “It is essential” she said, “that they feel like everyone in the office knows them, they need to feel like celebrities when they come here.” I will not pretend to remember her exact wording, but that was the message as I understood it, and I found it to be humorous.
While wading through portfolio upon portfolio of ad work and music videos, I stumbled upon work by a French director by the name of Francois Vogel. His website caught my eye. He used my favorite font. I decided it was my favorite when I saw it. I wish I knew its name. I went to his “about” section, where I intended to learn more “about” him.
Francois is a scientist and an artist. He builds cameras, and he makes images. Details are on his website, but that's what I understood from it all. The level of expression this man enjoys is enviable, and the products of his labor are spellbinding. Working in distorted perspectives; surrealist manipulations of light and time, and wielding it to deconstruct experience and interpretation allows for Francois to invite the viewer to question the consistency of his own reality. How much of our own truths are made up of how we stitch the world together? And so on. One of his projects is images in which statues look to be taking selfies. I laughed at the images in that project loudly with my mouth. I thought about one of those images later that day, and laughed less loudly as I tried to explain the image to a friend. I laughed less loudly so that my friend could have an easier time understanding the words I was using to describe the image.
Eventually I just showed it to him. The link for said image will be in this post. In the future I may include a little audio snippet of reactions like the laughter I enjoyed. Little video snippets too. While watching Francois’ Trois Petits Chat, I noticed myself leaning in closer to the screen, mouth agape. I’m sure my eyes were reflective of the machinations going on right behind them as I found new meaning in moments playing outside linearity, my mouth adjusting itself into a smirk as I became accustomed to the visual aesthetic, once again opening slightly as the moment then folds on itself. A video of that could perhaps been of some use. Next time, perhaps. His videos are short; the technical prowess of his imagery is astounding especially in the context of his building his own equipment. It’s inspirational. The poetry in his editing, and at times the poetry of language as expressed is playful (as experienced by me) and haunting. Portraits for moments in motions. Portraits restructured. Watch his stuff. Visit his website. Should I email him? I would like to meet his cameras.
Links as promised:
Only one link is really needed. The statues pictures are in Pinhole Photography section. Trois Petits Chat is in the Short Films section. I’d like to meet him too. Maybe I should email him.
I also watched Kuroneko, a Japanese horror film. I don’t think I should write about it, but it’s probably the best movie I saw this week. You should watch it too.