A person I have filmed is a set of broken images: first, someone actually seen, within touch, sound, and smell; a face glimpsed in the darkness of a viewfinder; a memory, sometimes elusive, sometimes of haunting clarity; a strip of images in an editing machine; a handful of photographs; and finally the figure moving on the screen, of cinema itself. It is Mataki, Logoth, Losike, Lorang, Arwoto, Francis, Geraldine, Ian, Sunny, Jaswant, Miminu, Fran­ chiscu, Pietro. Each name lifts my spirits but also disturbs me. Film gives us the bodies of those we have filmed, yet those same bodies dissipate or are transformed before our eyes. I want to try to grasp the sense of this-if not to find the person among the phantoms, then perhaps to find some reasons for my puzzlement. If images lie, why are they so palpable of the life between us? I want to look, sometimes sidelong, at the spaces between the filmmaker and the subject: of imagery and language, of memory and feeling. These are spaces charged with ambiguity, but are they not also the spaces in which con­sciousness is created? – David MacDougall

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~ by crossmd on May 4, 2011.

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