Selections from TIE: The International Experimental Cinema Exposition
2007 Wexner Center for the Arts - Columbus, Ohio Edition

Introduced by TIE founder/director Christopher May

Thu, May 10, 2007 | 7:00PM

Since 2000, the Colorado-based TIE festival has been a leading champion of artists still working in the medium of film, with a particular focus on new and historical avant-garde cinema. This program, specifically selected for the Wexner Center by TIE founder/director Christopher May, features an eclectic range of short films that show the continuing vitality and beauty of celluloid.

"The phrase “film festival” has become a misnomer as most contemporary festivals show some (or most) of their selections on video. The Colorado-based TIE festival is one of the last true FILM festivals in operation. Since 2000, TIE has been a leading champion of artists still working in the medium of film, with a particular focus on new and historical avant-garde cinema."
- Chris Stults, Wexner Center for the Arts

 

Official Program:


Blocking

(Pablo Marin, 2005, 2 mins., 35mm, Argentina)

"Made strictly by opposing AMIA’s “Disaster Recovery for Films in Flooded Areas” this film was kept under water until its emulsion started to melt, then removed, tightened up and finally dried directly by the sun. The result is what you see, a film trailer, reborn from its very same ashes, in which the few small portions of “images” that remain are overcome by the freed, colorful chemicals. Blocking is, thus, an homage to all the footage lost by the unpredictable dangers of nature and, at the same time, a true song to the beauty in destruction."

"Blocking brings together two of the Avant-garde’s favorite preoccupations: found footage film, and physical manipulation of the medium itself. The found footage in Blocking, comes from a theatrical trailer for a large budget feature film. Subtitles contextualize the footage as originating in a non-Spanish-speaking country. To achieve its wonderful optical quality, Marin soaked the film in water long enough for it to start breaking down. The effect is visually sublime. The image in the film is almost totally obliterated, freeing the dyes to wash over the celluloid. The effect bears a remarkable resemblance to the painting technique developed by Max Ernst known as Frottage, in its web-like formations. Inexplicably, the subtitling of the film somehow escapes total erosion. Spanish phrases flicker in and out of the ominous oozing color formations, adding elements of human structure to the nebulous articulations of form and color."
-Noah Manos, TIE

"Stunning, important, exciting, lovely."
– Christopher May, TIE

"Wonderful, very radical experimental cinema. It is beautiful to see the pigments in freedom and then a flash, a glimpse of the image where they come from."
– Claudio Caldini, Filmmaker

 


#23.2
Book of Mirrors
(Joost Rekveld, 2002, 12 mins., 35mm, Netherlands)
#23.2 Book of Mirrors deals with the multiplication of light beams through mirrors and kaleidoscopes. The structure of the film has been developed in close cooperation with composer Rozalie Hirs who wrote the music for it. The composition is based on symmetries and inversions of proportions and gestures throughout the film. At some point #23 will have grown to be a cycle of five abstract films about light, inspired by concepts found in medieval and renaissance optics. The films are made with a set-up in which I use elementary optical principles to generate images. These images are caused by the interplay of light waves directly onto the emulsion, not using lenses as they are used normally to reproduce a scene outside of the camera. In that way I try to explore alternative forms of spatiality not related to traditional pictorial perspective.

 


Black and White Trypps Number Two
(Ben Russell, 2006, 8 mins., 16mm, U.S.A.)
"A fine fine example of spaces between existing as objects themselves. A patternistic and memorializing offering to natural totems. Two kinds of reversal at play involving black and white as well as reflection and overlap. These simple elements create a hurried maze of twisting antler branches, twigs, and dissected slices of pure “space.” I can hear the crackling fires, echoing elk calls and frosty despair…"
- JT Rogstad, TIE

 


Vom Innen; von aussen

(Albert Sackl, 2006, 20 mins., 16mm, Austria)
"Von Innen, von Aussen is a wonderfully unnerving, scrutinized, study of the human body within the context of its environment. The film opens with an empty apartment set in motion, revolving around a fixed point. This introduces the kinetic fixation that Sackl explores thoroughly within the film, the revolution. Implications of the revolution within man's own self image and man's historic worldview seem to be the larger conceptual concerns of the work. The revolution is then applied to man, himself, where Sackl plays out in a score of variations on the theme. At first, we see an unidentified nude male subject revolving clockwise on his central axis in front of a black background. It is evident that the backdrop is part of the apartment, but it clear that Sackl intends it to be an empirical environment for one portion of his study. Sackl then sets the revolving man in motion back and forth across the face of the backdrop. Sackl continues his formal investigation sending the revolving man back and forth in space.

The next major development is that the image splits and we view the man in stereo. The two men's revolutions are synchronized at first, then each takes on his own timing and direction. At this point the viewer could easily define the film as simply a visual analysis of the male figure in highly ordered motion, but then Sackl presents the environment as variable. Suddenly, the black background is lifted and anonymous natural background is presented. The landscape is initially vacant, but the spinning man soon enters stage right and makes his way back and forth, revolving all the while. The film soon cuts back to the black background where more variations are played out, the most noteworthy being the superimposition of the man's front and back. The visual biomorphism is totally bizarre. Throughout the remainder of the film, the environment continues to shift between the apartment, natural landscapes and the black backdrop. In the end, the empiricism of the blackened space is beautifully tainted by rays of sunlight that are projected onto the scene from a window behind the camera.

Ultimately, the film has a truly meditative quality, a meditation that encompasses our notions about our bodies and the rules that govern it, both environmental and self-imposed. The precision of the filmmaking is overwhelming, in a way that is echoed in the movements of the male model. Something within the tight order applied to the man's body brings to mind the iconic work of Leonardo de Vinci, which imposes perfect geometries atop the human form."
-Noah Manos, TIE

 


Starlings

(Karl Kels, 1991, 6 mins., 16mm, Germany)
"It is night. The moon is shining. A static camera captures a huge flock of starlings searching the sky in circular movements. It is not clear how long Kels had been standing there before he turned on his camera; the event as such can only have come as a surprise to him as well. At first the starlings are hard to identify. Having deliberately edited frames coming from different generations of the original print in a certain metrical order, without changing the actual chronology of their movement, Kels has the constantly changing shapes of the birds dissolve in the rough grain of the celluloid. Once again a technical weakness of the celluloid forms the starting point of his visual enterprise. Shot on one reel without any interruption, the birds' flight gradually forms configurations of astonishing beauty. An immense sense of depth emerges as the starlings move against the background of the distanced moon, yet cross close by electric wires. Moths cannot resist the light and drop down just in front of the lens, and finally, also the starlings seem to take a last turn reaching down closer to Kels' camera just before his reel ends."
- Millenium Film Journal, No. 30-31.

 

Upper Blue Lake
(James Otis, 1996, 12 mins., 16mm, U.S.A.)
"Coming to grips with landscape via pseudo-hyper-stereoscopy. Your eyes are two-and-a-half inches apart, giving viscerally felt depth to 25 feet. If your eyes were 400 feet apart, you'd see solid forms three miles distant and think your grasp extended a mile. I established pairs of viewpoints up to hundreds of feet apart and jogged between, at each shooting a few frames. Since usual depth perception is only to 25 feet, we see anything in stereo as within that distance; mountains are seen as close and, hence, small. Filming took days and days: time, too, is miniaturized; shadows creep and clouds boil. Experience land as diorama and time as summary. UPPER BLUE LAKE.... so enthralled me with its various qualities of light and atmosphere, I persevered, for five years jogging whenever I could, 12,000 feet high in the Colorado Rockies."

 


The General Returns from One Place to Another

(Michael Robinson, 2006, 11 mins., 16mm, U.S.A.)
"Learning to love again, with fear at its side, the film draws balance between the romantic and the horrid, shaping a simultaneously skeptical and indulgent experience of the beautiful. A Frank O'Hara monologue (from a play of the same title) attempts to undercut the sincerity of the landscape, but there are stronger forces at play."

 


Living
(Frans Zwartjes, 1971, 15 mins., 16mm, Netherlands)
Zwartjes' masterwork and his most favorite film. "Living has an uneasy, indefinable atmosphere. This strange swaying of the camera and the music that keeps going on and on…" Living demonstrates the cinematographic mastery of Zwartjes. He is the main character of the film and handles the camera himself, pointing it towards himself with his hand held out. Zwartjes: "I was as strong as a bear in these times." The film is part of the series 'Home sweet home', in which Zwartjes explores the house in The Hague he had just moved into at the time. His wife and muse Trix plays the other role. The two characters move restlessly through the house. The film was made using an extreme wide angle lens (a 5.7), which gives the image a strong sense of estrangement.

 


Fourth Watch
(Janie Geiser, 2000, 11 mins., 16mm, U.S.A.)
The ancient Greeks divided the night into four sections; the last section before morning was called the fourth watch. In these hours before dawn, an endless succession of rooms is inhabited by silent film figures occupying flickering space in a midcentury house made of printed tin. Their presence is at once inevitable and uncanny. A boy turns his head in dread, a woman’s eyes look askance, a sleepwalker reaches into a cabinet which dissolves with her touch, and hands write letters behind disappearing windows. The rooms reveal themselves and fill with impossible, shadowed light. It is not clear who is watching and who is trespassing in this nocturnal drama of lost souls.

 

Dipping Sause
(Luther Price, 2005, 10 mins., 16mm, U.S.A.)
"Epileptic static strain into grays of machancal fetish tube socks and kenetic clown S and M cascading objects caress and fondle."

 

Ingreen
(Nathaniel Dorsky, 1964, 12 mins., 16mm, U.S.A.)
Ingreen is a reflecting pool of the underwater involvement of a mother-father-son relationship. Dorsky's first film quickly gained wide notoriety and respect. Yet, it was expelled from awards consideration at the Ann Arbor Film Festival due to its highly controversial auto-erotic content while presiding judge, Gregory Markopoulos, in solidarity with the film, walked out in protest.

 


Happy-End

(Peter Tscherkassky, 1996, 12 mins., 35mm, Austria)

"A found footage film about oral rituals, about festive occasions and about a married couple who understood how to enrich and enliven their cosy togetherness. We see the pair pouring drinks, cutting cakes, making toasts... Finally the exuberant movement of the dancing woman freezes. It is a deeply ambiguous moment that, from the expression on her face, allows one to think of something close to despair. On something like a modern, alienated, baroque vanity motive, which is still present in the Austrian tradition, and whose abrasion with the sensual certainty of the moment of drinking an egg liqueur gives Happy-End a wider meaning."
- Bert Rebhandl

 

Program curated by Christopher May

 



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