Jujube/2019-iffr-log

Agenda 2019

^ only saw on a computer screen

` did not finish watching

+ feeling touched/real/changed

0 a pleasant (aesthetic) experience, but lacking in some way

- feeling blazé/lectured/annoyed

favorites

Pájaros de Verano +++

125′

The script follows the arch of a tragedy. The stakes keep building as characters are related as families and/or close friends — to such a degree that each resulting death or broken relationship makes you outraged and, perhaps, bereft. In the age where movies can easily be filled with trite gunshots, the ones in this film are heart-sinking. Illustrations of wrath, betrayal, ruthlessness, deterioration of morals, (torn) obligations towards family.

Ritual and tradition, when fully dedicated to, evoke awe.

I cried in many moments.

Diorama No.4 : Die Fernweh Oper +++

While the other two projects used VR as a gimmick, this was a visceral experience. It was divided in two parts, thus two sets of goggles and "stage".

Part 1: the chair installation. Once I got the goggles on, the breeze from the fan became ambient

Part 2: A gothic theater house. I felt like a ghost as I went through the chairs. A star appeared and started to loom over me. I literally crouched down and stayed close to the ground until after it passed. It was sublime, evoking my appreciation for beauty and inner fear in the truest sense. (It was difficult to keep my eyes off the star, but I was very afraid.) I thought of Melancholia. I kept going to the neon blue wall grids to remind myself that I was in a virtual world.

Part 3: Inside the room. I passed by the mirrors without seeing myself. Ghost, again. I took a close look at the objects. Their expressionless faces nodded softly. I looked outside. There was the moon, and two floating objects (like small satellites) and darkness. It reminded me of a nightmare a long time ago, where I floated in space and went from one star to another, where I was also close to the moon. Fear lingered.

Part 4: I was outside the room, in space. I couldn't muster up to approach the moon. I stood still in the confines of the wall grids to stay safe. I had to lift off the goggles at times to remind myself of the reality.

Masterclass: Alfredo Jaar +++

Not knowing this man before the lecture, I was moved by his conviction. (I even saw his project in MAXXI in Rome, but I had no idea who he was.) He began with the moment that "everything changed in his life."

His early projects vocalise his anger and grief in a non-violent way, which show a clear connection to his later works dealing with public memory (through memorials and interventions). He uses icons to question the norm (quotes from revolutionaries, frequently circulated media clip, images of the dead from oppression); he recognizes and creates icons from the images of importance to him.

The memorials he designed have a sensibility towards the dead and a hopefulness for the living, especially visible in the projects in Santiago de Chile and Fukushima.

From one-person street performance to multi-million architecture project, he has a genuine belief that art can induce change. Perhaps he is able to move around the multitude of scales because of that.

A volta ao mundo quando tinhas 30 anos ++

110'

What's immediately curious about the film is the language. It has a Portugese title, yet the speech begins and continues in Japanese.

A Japanese man's 11-month journey around the world (or parts of Europe, Middle East, Northern Africa and US) in 1970. Koretzky reconstructs the journey using old photographs, journal entries and memories.

A few conversations/monologues set the tone and dimensions of the film. Early in the movie, the director asks her father to "tell me about your eyes." Her father's fading eyesight and inability to read his journals leads to the reveal of her own imperfect Japanese and decision to look for another voice. This introduces a third person in the voiceover with not only a clear transition but also a powerful metaphor on identity and origin. The father and the daughter have different relationships with Japan.

At some point the director becomes more concrete with Japanese. "I dream in Portugese now. I used to dream in Japanese. My pronunciation is getting worse."

In a scene, the camera centers on the father, who takes an instant photo, then moves to center on the developing picture. We see the emergence of the director herself, holding a camera, as she speaks more about her becoming Portugese. (I don't remember the exact thing she said, but this scene stays with me.)

The film is interesting because it is not just about the journey. Another thread is her father's relationship with the garden, which is talked about and shown in the film. The footage of the father holding different plants and naming what is in his garden is a window into this man's knowledge.

At some point the director mentions a dream about two sheep climbing over a mountain (the footage is roadside trees from a moving vehicle), and that she knows the sheep are her parents and "I want to help them." She then shows a staged scene of her parents having tea against the backdrop of a mountain range. They (mostly the father) comment on the changing wind of autumn, rather poetically. It somehow made me uneasy, as if there was an undercurrent of something...

The film ended with some mysteries: when did the father move to Portugal? What's the story of the mom? The last scene is beautiful: the dad swinging in front a sea of clouds. He says "it is not a conclusion; but it's time for me to put down the feather [pen]." A poetic reminder that we do not need to know everything. That's not the point — to have all answers wrapped up and delivered — but having moments of closeness, and understanding of humanity.

Scenes of the snail crawling over the globe and the tea set bring a smile to my face.

worth learning from

Gulyabani (short in After Images) +

34'

The short is visually divided into four chapters with a voiceover of a woman recounting her life on her hospice bed to her son. (The son could be a vision rather than an actual person, as I read from the narrative.) The overall feeling is gothic, a heavy matter expressed through calm speech.

Chapters:

1. Beautiful and dark images of water / her childhood, the abuse she suffered from, her ability to communicate with the dead
2. Astounding landscape made of blue rocks and orange vegetations (probably colored in post, but seamless) / her abuse as a teen, during the time in a rock mine
3. Washed out footage (mostly blue and white) / (I forgot what she said particularly, at that point.)
4. Back to dark images, but this time more abstract... Aesthetics: analog, scratches from film, fast edits that turn into animation. / her encounter with her son

Some footage from THE ANONYMOUS-ARCHIVE OF AMATEUR AUDIOVISUAL.[1] Worth looking into.

Tutto l'oro Che C'è +

100'

• Quite a few things stands out. First, there is very little dialogue yet a clear narrative. Four characters with their own ways of being in the environment. I prefer to not use "nature" as a description for the footage because it seems to me this film has a clear focus on human's place/interaction in their surroundings.
• The film is interspersed with a few different kinds of macro shots. First, of insects/birds, which has a classic National Geographics look. Second, of human objects. A used condom underneath the rocks, tin can for boiling crack and needles, rows of beer bottles at a party. Third, of the insects interacting with human artifacts. The most memorable ones are a caterpillar crawling over an ipad and a snail climbing to the lip of a hunting rifle. These shots brings the activities in the environment to life and poses juxtapositions (both literally and visually).
• There are five main characters. A hunter, a gold prospector, a teenager boy, a nudist, a police man. (Why all men, though?) Except for the nudist, all the other characters seem to be driven by what they do, and their actions carry the weight of the scenes and make the characters concrete. Following is a closer account:

1. Hunter scenes: he listens. He cares for his dog. He shoots, picks up the pheasant and puts it in his sack. He takes a nap.
2. Gold prospector scenes (my favorite): he rows the boat. He shovels the rocky soil from the river to the land. He lays out his tools. He sifts the soil with the shovel. He transfers the soil with a bucket. He nails a washboard to the river bank. He washes the the soil and gets rid of large debris.
3. Boy scenes (the wonder/ the ease a younger person possesses towards nature): a dragonfly lands on his shoulder. He whittles a stick. He colors a black-and-white illustration book with the colors he sees. His eyes peering at the birds.
4. Police man scenes: he investigates something in the forest. He takes photographs of what he finds suspicious. He looks through his photos.

• Beautiful images. From the fogs in the morning to the concrete slabs of the dam. There's one particular sequence where the fluff falls from the tree and lands in the river all the while with badly-performed karaoke in the background, which brings me to an important aspect of the movie:

• THE SOUND. Human sounds contrasting a seemingly peaceful landscape (constant sounds of plane over the images of vegetations). Recorded and processed crystal clear to reflect the texture/context of the scene. Well-blended during transition.

Vulnerable Histories (A Road Movie) ++

The two protagonists trace their family histories and investigate their own feelings about identity, discrimination, equality. The conversation scenes are intersected with lecture and reading.

The director staged the conversation senario, but he did not script the dialogue. It's another actor-(co)directed film (like Le silence des sirènes). In the car scene, Woohi sheds tears. Christian holds the silence and lets the moment be. I wonder if his "being with the feeling" comes from his own life or if it is part of the framework set by the director.

The first reading about the UN declaration of Human Rights is powerful. It brings out the discrepancy between human rights and violent social practices. The lecture features a teacher giving statistics and opinions on zainichi — it feels too long and dense. Thus the reading that immediately follows loses the power.

The title Vulnerable Histories suggests a conflict common in historiography. Histories are inevitably subjective, but the forms we learn about them seem cold, removed and imposing a sense of objectivity. Is it a documentary? An intimate documentary about personal identity and social inequality.

Above Us Only Sky (short in The Fire Inside Us) +

What strikes me the most is how well-written the script is. The script can easily stands on its own as an essay. It has a New Yorker feeling to it... The visual images adds to the script like evidences. The images become the protagonists.

As I watch it I wonder what I would shoot if I turned The Rule of Novels (my own essay) into a film.

Artist talk: Diana Vidrascu +

As a cinematographer she maintains a distance and silence with her subjects, which she carries into her directing. She lets them be. In Le silence des sirènes she casts her main character, but uses real-world situations that the actor is involved in without a script. In her words, "only the protagonist knows the story and thus tries to steer the conversation to that direction." In the scene where the protagonist talks to her real grandmother, she "only started to film when I felt the conversation was going towards the story." She jokes about being "unethical" using this approach of creating fiction with a documentary style. An audience comments that she seems to be creating "fake news" (oh the vocabulary) and asks why (from a point of interest, not judgement, but still...) She didn't give a clean-cut answer, mentioning her "personal investigations in this in between place" and "stories" larger than life. But to me, the resulting works all seem genuine and, to a degree, quietly evoking something deeper. It's her way of connecting with the audience, or of dramatizing, a method that resonates with me.

She shoots with 16mm. Once she carries her nimble analog camera (which one?) to film the landscape in Iceland. It's a camera close to her, although it does pose danger (inconvenience) on her hikes. She also thinks the expensiveness of shooting on film is "a myth".

Her shooting process is interesting as well. In one slide she shows how she picks high-contrast negatives from the reel to create a mask for other images on an optical printer.

Masterclass: Jia Zhang-ke

Still Life came out of an urgency to document the so-to-be-flooded town. A documentary disguised by a feature. (Documentary as B-roll -- different approach from Diana, who uses documentary as a method. See her talk above.)

Jia's take on dialect is illuminating. "Dialect represents a place. I don't like Mandarin. When the actors speak mandarin in a film, I don't know where they are from."

The Gold-Laden Sheep & the Sacred Mountain 0

The movie is old-man-and-sea-esque. The set is the Himalaya. The knowledge of the landscape and of herding come from real shepherds, transporting the audience to a different life. However, the fable repeats itself in the beginning title cards and in a scene where locals tell a story. From then on the story becomes predictable... and loses its grip. I stopped feeling empathic or curious about the characters. However, I did contemplate about "the sublime" (danger + beauty) throughout the movie and one sequence was outstanding with regard to that: // close-up shot on water + sound of a creek // a farther shot but still the same sound, shepherd drinks water with his hand // pan up to reveal the waterfall + blast of waterfall

Anteu (short in Tiger Shorts Competition) ^ +

A short that somehow reminds me of Parajanov's editing. Set. Poses. Character looking into the camera. Symbolic gestures. The story is quite striking — the villagers die one by one out of different events (his mother's dies on the bed, a cheating husband dies after climbing into a barrel and unknowingly being pushed into the canyon...) leaving Anteu the last survivor. The shot indicating his mother's death: camera centers on a woman, a hand reaches from out of the frame and closes her eyes. The shot is black and white. Camera then pans to the window right above her. The outside is in color. It's raining.

The ending is full of visual poetry. Anteu constructs an elaborate mechanism, climbs to a coffin and lets it drop him into the grave he dug.

Mum, I'm Sorry (short in Inquiring Minds) ^ +

No dialogue. The quote in the beginning says something about the lack of words. The disappearance of the word. (In a very different context compared to that in Pájaros de Verano, but the word seems to be a fertile term.)

What keeps the viewer's attention? Wonder: what are these, whom do these belong to, and then, sympathy: are they dead?

Reminds me of The Things They Carried by Tim O'Brien.

• Flipping through an old and smudged address book and a similar photo album.
• Hands wearing latex gloves.
• Extreme close-up's of abstract patterns. Camera pans - cuts to another pattern - pans, so on and so forth. Not sure what they are until the camera moves to a recognizable face: they are photographs that have been submerged in water for a long time and then dried.
• Surgical environment. Plastic bags, paper towels, tweezers. Actions: opening the bag, laying out the the items, using tweezer for photos. Transferring from one paper towel to another. Are we looking at objects left by dead people (perhaps who were murdered?) Chilling.
• Interspersed with shots of dark skin. Ends with an eye. Title card reveals the origin of these objects: people in shipwrecks.

The objects found in people’s pockets – photos, pieces of paper – tell the stories of their owners' lives, their hopes and their pasts, according to forensic scientist Dr Cristina Cattaneo. Wallets with phone numbers, school reports, university IDs and passports, boxes of medication, T-shirts of European soccer teams, rings, telephones and memories.

Pattaki (short in Soul in the Eye)^ +

Grey. Smoke. Water. Water. Water.

Reflection. Running water. The scene where a woman catches water from everywhere in buckets. She stands amongst them.

The myth of fish to man. Or man to fish.

worth the time

The Last Seven Words +

A project of seven directors, each responding to the commissioned composition The Seven Last Words of Our Saviour on the Cross (1787) by Joseph Haydn – a piece that is a special favourite around Easter and which grippingly expresses the state of the suffering Christ on the cross.

Some chapters are better than others.

Memorable scenes:

• opening: old woman jumping off the plane is striking.
• from the cellist: old woman lies on the forest floor, a hand reaches out from outside the frame (the storyline of that movie feels familiar, but nevertheless succeeds to move me)
• from Forgiveness: groups of women in hijab mourning (later in the Q&A I learned those footage were from a Muslim festival on forgiving)

The last chapter, Reunion, is based on a spiritual burial. The director is Caroline Monnet, who is decent from Outaouais with Algonquin, Québécois and French roots. In the Q&A she said her intention was to use the myth from the Algonquin nation (when someone dies, their spirit passes through a body of water) and the nation's conflicting relationship with Christianity. She worked with a choreographer, emphasizing the idea of breathing underwater (inspired by the breathing from the Quartet musicians).

Some chapters are not story-based and seem too abstract and hard to relate to.

Luciérnagas +

85'

A gay Iranian man, stuck in Mexico, is trying to save up to get back to Greece or Turkey. He is lost, homesick and lonely.

He builds friendship with the hotel owner and a crush over a day laborer he meets.

The relationships in this film is incredibly real and nuanced. Everyone is pre-occupied by their own troubles, yet has a moment to share their hope with one another.

One scene moves me very much: Ramin practices Spanish with hotel owner, Leti, who asks, que haces tú? and que vas a hacer?. He says, after a long and pained pause, I don't...know." Here, simple questions carry the weight of existence. They cheer with a shot and dance.

One scene leads to complex feelings: Guillermo comes to Ramin's room, teases him and kisses him. It is developing into a romantic scene, until Guillermo stops himself and yells at Ramin that he's not a "fucking faggot" (which he had insulted Ramin before after R kissed him earlier in the evening). It's painful to watch the break in this relationship: perhaps Guillermo is closeted — his anger comes from his own confusion, yet Ramin is being judged and hurt for that.

Memories of My Body +

The film is theatrical.

First scene: camera on current Juno, who addresses directly to the audience. "Sometimes I hear my mom calling, Juno, Juno." As he says this, the camera pans left to a boy, who responds to the name Juno. (Having two people representing the same character is very play-like for me.)

The dances are raw and beautiful.

Last Night I Saw You Smiling +

The director borrowed a camera from a friend and shot the footage for about 30 days out of a 3-month period. A project done out of urgency.

The director and the producer credited the editor for extending the "obsessive eye", accentuated by centered long takes through a corridor full of activities.

Developed at http://docsbythesea.org

Your Face ++

77'

• Surprisingly moving with genuine images of old skin and twinkles in the eyes.
• It hits me when the first face breaks the stillness (a woman in her late 60's or early 70's). She seems to be on the verge of tears while she laughs. The director's voice and the questions he asks are gentle and non-judgement, which sets the tone for the film.
• The overall flow is punctuated by seemingly mundane stories from working class people. All the women move me. One pushes down her feelings as she recalls her first love and the hardship during her youth. One keeps saying "don't laugh at me" while letting out a nervous laugh. One cries because she feels guilty about being an unfilial daughter.
• There is a lot of unease from some of the cast, none of whom are professional actors.
• I am not convinced by the last scene. It tests patience. I understand it as the place where the faces stared into during the shoot. Perhaps the director wants us to be the faces.

Orbit (prelude for Black Mother) 0

7'

• Spinning animation with fitting music scores. The reveal of the artifact that makes the animation adds a message to the film.

phenakistiscope [2]

TROPICS (short in After Images) 0/+

13'

3D scanned images. Sound captures locals from the village recalling stories. One account about coming back from an accident (i.e. visions of ghosts and late father) was particularly captivating.

Le silence des sirènes (short in 'Tiger Shorts Competition) ^ 0/+

34'

The opening scene is beautiful. Silence from close-ups of two faces. Then a touch (about 5 seconds) from one arm to another. Mindfulness. See more above in Artist Talk: Diana Vidrascu.

Dirty God 0/+

105'

The protagonist is a burn victim in real life. The director found her early and made a lot of decisions about the film based on/in consultation with her. A rather personal way of working.

others

Aren't You Happy?^ 0

80'

Absurdist. Short episodes within the film. Highly stylized dialogues, performances and visuals.

It definitely appeals to a young audience. I see my own 20-something sarcastic self in it, but now that I have out lived it, the concerns from the film (raging war inside of a young (western) female, the unwillingness/inability to connect expressed through snarky intellectualism) no longer speak to me.

Joel 0

The director tell the audience only the adopting parents are actors — all other people play themselves.

There was no Q&A, but I want to ask: how did Joel feel about it? Does he have a home now?

The film does not make me feel much... It portrays realistic conflicts and people's real interest, but the conflict seems to pose moral questions to the audience. Somehow the film feels colder than the subject deserves.

L'inconnu de Collegno --

50'

Slow pace. Grey palette. Emotionless voiceover. I get it is trying to be enigmatic in the beginning and unveil it slowly, but I fall asleep.

The actual story could be interesting — a man who does not remember his name (sound a bit familiar to my own recent project), whose identity becomes the ground on which others write their own stories. The man seems to come from WWII Italy and could have been fascinating with high conflicts... But the director chooses to flatten everything in pursuit of an aloof style.

A Parajanov Triptych +

The way Parajanov devices the stage is inspiring. His use of Armenian architecture and layers and layers of artifacts imbued with symbolic meaning are very... scenographic. (Perhaps it's anachronistic to describe the movies with this term.) Despite having no knowledge of him or the subject in his films, I rarely feel bored when watching. His movies are well-conceived, beautiful riddles.

The symposium itself was rather esoteric — I would not have attended myself (unless I already knew Parajanov's work...)

Nuestro Tiempo ` -

173'

• The main character comes across as controlling. I understand it is the film's intention, but I don't feel sympathetic.
• The film is long (almost 3 hours), but with unexpected imageries from the ranch there is enough space to not be annoyed.
• The bull/mule fight is visceral. The steam from the body of the mule is beautiful.
• The still shot of the door — Juan goes in, pause, two ranch helpers go in, pause, Juan comes out again — with the child's narration as transition is puzzling. 1) Why so long? 2) Why is a child the narrator? (Perhaps to illustrate innocence and good-will; it feels jarring.)
• I didn't finish watching because the visuals disappeared around 2h20min. The whole theater sank into blackness. One by one, people's faces were lit up by their phone screens. Everyone tried to escape. There was murmurs as the audio went on... Perhaps it was intentional. If so it is a baffling, unjustified choice.

The Day I Lost My Shadow --

95'

• Promising metaphor and opening scenes (esp. boy in sweater and over the sink).
• Sadly, the metaphor ("shadow") turns out more symbolic than effectual. There is a lot of shots on the shadows moving across the forest, but after a while it gets old... These shots do not give new information/arise new feelings.
• The story has just enough gaps to be confusing. One main character seems to appear and die out of nowhere. The intimacy between the protagonist and him, which developed suddenly, could have carried more weight, or at least more become more convincing.
• War causes neurosis, yes, but simply displaying it alienates the audience.
• Hand-held shots = dizziness (perhaps a bit overused)

Black Mother --

77'

• There is no synchronized audio in this film. Everything is a voiceover on top of montage: some are related to the subject of speech, some are people, some, landscape. The movie (or rather, the director in his own words) asks the audience to associate freely. The result would be stunning had it been a shorter piece. Standing at 77 minutes, this technique becomes demanding and loses its momentum.

• There is a supposed structure guided by pregnancy and birth (a female voice announces: "first/second/third trimester" and "birth"), which divides the film into chapters. However, I am not sure I can perceive any progression suggested by this structure.

• (I dozed off for ten minutes.)

• The portraits, shots of water and praying become repetitive after a while. Repeating for emphasis is exhausting and stops being poetic.

• There is a scene of a boy holding a film camera. My thoughts when seeing it: perhaps the movie is made with a combination of the director's and amateur footage? But in the credits it shows that the director did everything. So why this shot?

• The key take-aways from the film: a place filled with natural beauty and abundance, and at the same time, prostitution, machoism, and hardship. Religion dominates and one voice in particular talks about the colonial influence (christ along with the slavery trade). Spirituality is deeply tied to religion, but in some cases splits off from it.

• It's described as an artistic documentary. However, the individual images are more interesting than the collective montage. Putting them together distracts me. The film might be better off as a multiscreen installation or something equivalent that allows the audience to process the complexity on their own time.

Minor History ` --

I was in this film for a very short time. The synopsis was promising: Minor History is a portrait of Wahid, the 90-year-old uncle of the artist. This true storyteller was born in India in the 1920s, fled to Pakistan, joined the army there and came to the US in the 1980s. He now lives in a cold, snowy city and is a well-known eccentric in the pool halls. The film tries to map out the radical changes in consciousness that the world has gone through in one human life. Shots of Wahid in his everyday life are juxtaposed with footage in which he tells the camera about his past.

However interesting the old man was, the shots were majorly him talking... When he tells story after story, I was no longer able to pay attention just through his words. This type of documentary needs other footage to be fuller. (It reminds me of my own project, Ambacht, where I also focused mainly on the talking and not enough action, nor space.)

No More Reality Whereabouts ` --

I saw the first 60 minutes of this film (the last 10 minutes I fell asleep and then, waking up and finding no change in pace, left).

It started with a performance (Intro and singing by an Indonisian D..? -- Puppeteer.) There was live piano scores. Some parts were 3D.

I did not like this cerebral feature-length film. It referred to aesthetics and concepts invented within and for the cinema. But sitting through 89 minutes of that would not be my preferred way of experiencing it. It was exhausting.

From the synopisis: This feature-length film combines 20 years of existing and re-edited footage to generate a 'film of films'; a hybrid that is both a non-exhaustive retrospective and the creation of a new persona through the symbiosis of its constituent parts... For the first time, Parreno presents a retrospective of his film works in the diegetic space of the cinema instead of the museum space. Screened in the commercial Pathé multiplex in the centre of Rotterdam, Parreno proposes a 'seance of cinema’ reintroducing in this traditional setting the magic and live rituals that lie at the basis of this art form...

Shorts in History Deletes Itself ` --

When analog film is used in conjunction with archeology by new makers, it feels like a cliche. The first few movies all feature grainy shots of a broken ancient column. I am numbed by these images of ruins.

The last one, portraying the fall of a former drug lord in Columbia, is the most interesting of all.

Shorts in Calling Planet Earth ` -

I misunderstood the context and found my self out of place... Apparently this program centers around Cauleen Smith, whom I did not research about.

Hub

Drinks

• Had a brief but nice chat with a programmer from the Belfast FF (Rose) I spoke about the importance of empathy in my work and how I found cinema a good form to explore. "Yes, cinema is extremely empathetic," she said. She recommended Heart of the dogs.

Panel: Make the most of the film festival

• IFFR: good for starting filmmakers. Cosier than Berlin/Venice/Cannes.

• The best way to interact with people: do homework (who's who) after getting selected for screening.

• Smaller festivals can provide better chances to actually foster relationships. Large FF's are about sales.

• Don't talk to a sales agent when the project is still in development.

Panel: The Perfect Match - The Director-Producer Relationship

Three director-producer pairs talked about their experience. The pair for Dreissig were directing students (who became a couple) and produced the student project film with 5000 euros (no pay for the actors, according to them). Everyone hinted that there was a large gap between this kind of frugality and the real co-producing. But what's real like?? No one said anything concrete about bridging the gap, and it felt that all director-producer relationships could start differently. The only consensus is that the director and the producer meet at a festival where the director's film has been selected.

At this stage I need to focus on making work and collaborations based on the resources I have. All seeds start with real work.

Blackout (exhibition at Kunsthal)

Memorable:

blinker animation as an interaction technique and visual product

archive from newspapers --> scanned digitally --> film --> slideshow (reflecting the subject: the past is over)

hundreds of tiny photos only viewable with magnifying glasses. The artist: "I want to express that every human is dust."