darkmylight:

Woman of Fire - Kim Ki-Young, 1971.

(Source: arilou, via iwanttobelikearollingstone)

2headedsnake:

Antonione Cordet

2headedsnake:

Antonione Cordet

(Source: saatchiart.com)

speakingparts:

The Act of Seeing with One’s Own Eyes [Stan Brakhage 1971]
It is possible to state that the aesthetic experience we have with Brakhage’s films attunes us in such a way that we might be free for the possibility of embracing death in terms other than the everyday understanding of it, wherein all of our possibilities are subordinated to the uttermost possibility of death, and thus become provisional in light of our finitude and mortality. In essence, when we embrace the ontological implications of death, there is an “anticipation” of death, an authentic comportment to death, which amounts to maintaining oneself within the imminent threat of death’s “indefinite certainty” at each and every moment of our existence.
from: The Philosophical Act of Seeing With One’s Own Eyes:  The Silent Films of Stan Brakhage

speakingparts:


The Act of Seeing with One’s Own Eyes [Stan Brakhage 1971]


It is possible to state that the aesthetic experience we have with Brakhage’s films attunes us in such a way that we might be free for the possibility of embracing death in terms other than the everyday understanding of it, wherein all of our possibilities are subordinated to the uttermost possibility of death, and thus become provisional in light of our finitude and mortality. In essence, when we embrace the ontological implications of death, there is an “anticipation” of death, an authentic comportment to death, which amounts to maintaining oneself within the imminent threat of death’s “indefinite certainty” at each and every moment of our existence.

from:
The Philosophical Act of Seeing With One’s Own Eyes: 
The Silent Films of Stan Brakhage

blackpaint20:

Joseph Mallord William Turner
Death on a Pale Horse (?) c.1825-30
Although possibly incomplete, the subject can be identified as Death, the last of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse who announce the Day of Judgement (Book of Revelation). The choice may have been in response to the death of Turner’s father in 1829, suggested by the unusual treatment which is both tender and menacing. Death appears, not as a triumphant, upright figure astride his horse, but as a phantom emerging from a turbulent mist: his skeletal form, arms outstretched, and draped submissively over the horse’s pale back. Such disturbing visions were considered to embody the very concept of the Sublime.

blackpaint20:

Joseph Mallord William Turner

Death on a Pale Horse (?) c.1825-30

Although possibly incomplete, the subject can be identified as Death, the last of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse who announce the Day of Judgement (Book of Revelation). The choice may have been in response to the death of Turner’s father in 1829, suggested by the unusual treatment which is both tender and menacing. Death appears, not as a triumphant, upright figure astride his horse, but as a phantom emerging from a turbulent mist: his skeletal form, arms outstretched, and draped submissively over the horse’s pale back. Such disturbing visions were considered to embody the very concept of the Sublime.

(via speakingparts)

a-bittersweet-life:

I want to make movies, beautiful movies. I’ve pursued that goal for more than 50 years. Close to 60 years now. But I don’t think I’ve yet fully grasped what a movie is…I would like everyone to savor the beauty of cinema. What I am aiming for—rather, hoping for—is to make a wonderful, beautiful movie. I want to convey in a natural fashion what I think through the movie and have people around the world appreciate it. A movie projected on a screen allows people all over the world to share in the lives of the movie’s characters. Sharing their suffering and sadness helps people understand each other. That is a special role that movies play. I think that’s the best thing about movies. It’s through the beauty of a movie that this can be accomplished.
Akira Kurosawa

a-bittersweet-life:

I want to make movies, beautiful movies. I’ve pursued that goal for more than 50 years. Close to 60 years now. But I don’t think I’ve yet fully grasped what a movie is…I would like everyone to savor the beauty of cinema. What I am aiming for—rather, hoping for—is to make a wonderful, beautiful movie. I want to convey in a natural fashion what I think through the movie and have people around the world appreciate it. A movie projected on a screen allows people all over the world to share in the lives of the movie’s characters. Sharing their suffering and sadness helps people understand each other. That is a special role that movies play. I think that’s the best thing about movies. It’s through the beauty of a movie that this can be accomplished.

Akira Kurosawa

Cinema needs to be reduced to its essential poetry. It’s a cycle that happens, and we’re in it now, maybe forcibly by worldwide economics, and maybe that’s a very good thing. Already in Greece, Romania, for years now in Iran, there are these beautiful gardens of new cinema that come in places where you would think, “How can they be making films in places the crisis is so severe?” But it’s happening. I’m not a predictor, but I embrace people finding their own way to express themselves. I have a lot of hope for it. You cannot kill these beautiful forms, but you just can’t help them with a lot of money.

You can say that a lot of Lost Highway is internal. It’s Fred’s story. It’s not a dream: It’s realistic, though according to Fred’s logic. But I don’t want to say too much. The reason is: I love mysteries. To fall into a mystery and its danger… everything becomes so intense in those moments. When most mysteries are solved, I feel tremendously let down. So I want things to feel solved up to a point, but there’s got to be a certain percentage left over to keep the dream going. It’s like at the end of Chinatown: The guy says, ‘Forget it, Jake, it’s Chinatown.’ You understand it, but you don’t understand it, and it keeps that mystery alive. That’s the most beautiful thing. For me, a film exists somewhere before you do it. It’s sitting in some abstract world, complete, and you’re just listening to it talk to you, telling you the way it’s supposed to be. But not until all the sound and music and editing has been done do you truly know what it is. Then it’s finished. It feels right, the way it’s supposed to be, or as right as it can. And when it’s finished, you’re back in a world where you don’t control anything. You just do the best you can, then say farewell.

Rolling Stone, March 6, 1997 Lost Highway Lynch Interview (via roadmovies)

(via thenightlymirror)

Our memories are like a city: we tear some structures down, and we use rubble of the old to raise up new ones. Some memories are bright glass, blindingly beautiful when they catch the sun, but then there are the darker days, when they reflect only the crumbling walls of their derelict neighbours. Some memories are buried under years of patient construction; their echoing halls may never again be seen or walked down, but still they are the foundations for everything that stands above them.

"Glas told me once that that’s what people are, mostly: memories, the memories in their own heads, and the memories of them in other people’s. And if memories are like a city, and we are our memories, then we are like cities too. I’ve always taken comfort in that.

eat-the-schoolgirl:

" I’m 87 years old…I only eat so I can smoke and stay alive.. The only fear I have is how long consciousness is gonna hang on after my body goes. I just hope there’s nothing. Like there was before I was born. I’m not really into religion, they’re all macrocosms of the ego. When man began to think he was a separate person with a separate soul, it created a violent situation.
The void, the concept of nothingness, is terrifying to most people on the planet. And I get anxiety attacks myself. I know the fear of that void. You have to learn to die before you die. You give up, surrender to the void, to nothingness.
Anybody else you’ve interviewed bring these things up? Hang on, I gotta take this call….. Hey, brother. That’s great, man. Yeah, I’m being interviewed… We’re talking about nothing. I’ve got him well-steeped in nothing right now. He’s stopped asking questions.”
- HARRY DEAN STANTON

eat-the-schoolgirl:

" I’m 87 years old…I only eat so I can smoke and stay alive.. The only fear I have is how long consciousness is gonna hang on after my body goes. I just hope there’s nothing. Like there was before I was born. I’m not really into religion, they’re all macrocosms of the ego. When man began to think he was a separate person with a separate soul, it created a violent situation.

The void, the concept of nothingness, is terrifying to most people on the planet. And I get anxiety attacks myself. I know the fear of that void. You have to learn to die before you die. You give up, surrender to the void, to nothingness.

Anybody else you’ve interviewed bring these things up? Hang on, I gotta take this call….. Hey, brother. That’s great, man. Yeah, I’m being interviewed… We’re talking about nothing. I’ve got him well-steeped in nothing right now. He’s stopped asking questions.”

- HARRY DEAN STANTON

(Source: ciaobellatarr, via thenightlymirror)

13monden:

I always believe that any learning comes through concentration and patience, and that you have to train yourself to have that patience and to perceive. That isn’t slow to me, that’s hard work. It may be slow in the movement of things but it isn’t slow in the stuff that’s going on in your mind when you watch something for a long time and you see very minimal changes: you start to learn from that. So time is a function of becoming more intelligent, I think; you need to take time. The word ‘slow’ seems to belittle that process. How can you rush that?

James Benning, asked what he thinks about the term ‘slow cinema.’ [x]